Dark, gloomy and raining. Perfect night for someone in my line of work. Everybody will be packed inside The Grey Wolf Pub tonight, all nice and tight like. A bump here or there with an "excuse me" apology and just like that they'll be a few coins lighter. All with none any the wiser. A few drinks, many stories, lots of laughter and maybe even bed a wench or two with any luck. And luck is what I was born with.
I'm what you'd call a wanderer. I travel from town to town, picking up odd jobs here and there from the guild or from anyone in need of someone with my particular skills. A thief if you will. Although, I prefer to be called an artist of procured goods. You need it, I can procure it like an artist. Thieves are greedy and tend to get caught because of it. I however, am an artist. To be able to pick a pocket while having a drink with my mark and never being given a second glance is the work of the true artist. A mark is the one I'm procuring from. In and out like a shadow without a sound and all the while I drink, sing, tell stories and occasionally dance with the ones I take from. A thief isn't what someone is, it is what they do. I am not a thief. I am a procurer. It is what I am, not what I do. I am an artist that nobody will ever know, but they will never forget what I am.
I have traveled here to this small hamlet in search of a new canvas on which to paint to show off my artistry. Scouting out the place from afar, soaked from my boots to my cowl, I decide I've let the place fill up enough to make my move. Besides, I just spotted a pair of beautiful aforementioned wenches enter said premises already wet for me. Now the problem is which wench first? Perchance both? Maybe. The blonde one was wearing a very tight red bodice that revealed her rather large assets, a black dress with a white cowl and I'm a sucker for large assets.
However, the other delectable wench is equally lovely. Her black hair is covered by a red cowel. Her white corset pales in comparison to her milky skin. Her assets may not be quite as voluptuous as her friends, but they're still ample enough. And that red dress fits her just right. First, it's time to go procure, then play later.
The ruddy street is a mud pit. Slippery as a greased up hog running away from a festival feast. I wipe my feet on the mud scrapper next to the entrance before entering the honey hole of picking pockets. The place is a typical pub along with rooms upstairs for travelers such as myself or for those in need of a quick service if you know what I mean.
It's a bit run down, but that gives it character. The fire place lights up the side where everyone is packed tighter than a virgin on a wedding night. While the rest of the place is sparsely lit, more for privacy than lack of candles. Behind the counter, the owner is a rather round fellow, but with arms of a man you don't want to mess with. I love traveling to places like this. The food, the drink, the stories and the lasses a plenty all make me feel alive. That, plus not a stinking guard in sight.
Taking an empty seat at the bar, I order a drink and sit back, enjoy the ale and people watch. My eyes dart to the serving wench bending over a table, smiling at the male customers as she places down some food, clearly trying to get a decent tip. If she bends any lower her cups might pour out. That would be a sight to see indeed. I'll have to order me some of that.
I wave her to me just to talk to her, but the gentleman next to me has other ideas in mind. He grabs her by the arm and begins to try and woo her with his drunken charm. She's clearly disgusted by his lack of manners when he tries to put her hand by his privates. "Wench! I need some service right here." His words are slurred, clearly drunk , so I take the opportunity to start procuring.
I put my arm on his shoulder and one in his pocket. "Hey bud, leave the wench alone." I wink at her. "Besides, there are plenty of other wenches here tonight for a fella such as yourself. There's no need to get yourself kicked out all ready is there? Here, let me buy you a drink." He glares at me then at her and let's go of her arm. He grumbles incoherently and goes back to his drink. I wave the owner over to get him a drink. I noticed him watching this go down, looking ready to tear him apart if it went any further.
Relief shows on both his face and in her beautiful green eyes that I just now noticed. I feel drawn to her in some way. Compelled by her aura of sex she exudes to find out how she tastes in bed. I've had my fair share of women, but there is something different about her.
Leaning in close enough to smell her sweat, which by the by is like a flower in bloom, I whisper in her ear and put a few coins in her hand discreetly.
"Thanks for the distraction. This should cover for his lack of dameanor." Her eyes shine as she notices the silver. I steal a look down her partly open blouse, enjoying her ample cleavage. "And mine as well." With that last statement I grab her firm behind. She jumps a bit with a startled oh sound and large smile on her face.
"My pleasure sir." Her eyes lock with mine, a predator stalking prey. Which of us is which is still debatable as we both try to leverage control. "Anything else you need," Her finger points into my chest and travels downward along with her stare and backup again. With just her fingertip I find myself losing the battle.
"Just follow me upstairs for our... full service." She walks away glancing back with a grin. Her firey red hair almost burning my wits away. Procuring can wait, but this girl won't. I gotta have her. Perhaps she can even be my apprentice. No woman has been able to capture my full attention as she has.
"I'll be back in a bit." She tells the owner who glances and nods his approval. There's something between those two beyond a working relationship. The way he looks at her, greed in his eyes, they have done this before. It's a trap. I'll bite.
Gulping down my drink for extra courage, I leave my payment on the bar. I begin to follow her up the stairs, right into her trap. I'm an artist of procured goods after all and danger is half the fun. Let the games begin and find out if she has what it takes to become a procurer or if she's just a common thief.
I see her enter the first room on the right, leaving the door open behind her. It's dark and clearly a trap. So I watch for signs of an attack. My senses are on high alert. The old lure in the mark with the beautiful girl routine and rob him blind trick. Been there, done that. Could already be another person in there waiting or me or just her. let's find out.
The moment I enter I'm attacked. The attacker is aggresive,
pinning me up against the wall and slamming the door shut. Pinning my arms up on the wall, I feel her sweet lips pressing against mine. Damn! She's strong.
Of course it's her. Did you think I'd let myself be taken by like that by anyone else?
Lips locked in pitched battle as our hands combat each others clothes into submission on the floor in a heap. In the little light penetrating through the window, her curvaceous body shines bright as a summers day. My eagerness is standing at full attention. We part from our heated lust to take in our true naked beauty. Moonlight silhouettes her every curve, accentuating her beauty. Her hair looks like a wild fire, both on her head and the little trail guiding me just above her special place. Her snow white skin is aglow. Her pink nipples are already hard in the chilly air.
Is she going to bed me, then steal from me or is there more to all this? I'm rather aroused by all the intrigue. The game itself is erotic. Who's stalking who. Who's the predator and who's the prey. Honestly, I'm really aroused by her sexy body. The rest is just fuel on the fire.
Taking control first, she seizes the opportunity and aggressively attacks my neck. Kissing me down slowly over my body until she drops onto her knees. Her hands control my body as her nails seek to touch ever muscle on her way down and I'm frozen in place, realizing I'm the prey. I lose, willingly.
My hands run through her hair as I peer down into her deep green eyes, staring right into my soul. I glimpse her dark desires and they are beautiful. She allows me to control her head and I give her my full trust pulling her into me. I gasp and my toes curl. She must be a sorceress cause her mouth is magic. Her tongue teases me while her hands stroke my shaft and play with my two bits. Wether she still robs me or not I almost don't care.
Bobbing her head back and forth gently and slow, stopping just before I climax like an artist. She knows what she is doing and what I am. That is why we're here playing this game. The game to take control. I've seen and have been with enough pub wenches to know she is much more than an ordinary wench. She is no thief either. If she was she would have had at least a knife and had robbed me already. No, this is something more than just robbery or sex or both. Great sex so far to be perfectly honest. Maybe the best head I've ever had. Damn! She's good.
