A walk about Camp

You'll have a woman tonight. You know yourself very well. Mastering your desires was a simple lesson, if not an easy one, but those same desires were multiplied a thousand fold after a battle. Occasionally you denied yourself in the past, simply to reassure that doubtful part of your mind that you were still in control. But tonight you weren't interested in restraint. You'd come so close to ****, you could still feel the bite of that goblin's rusty steel.

And so you walk among the tents of your camp, your feet take you to Rozanna's where a man calls out to a small crowd of soldiers. He's finely dressed, as all Roz's workers are, pretty too. You wonder if he works between the sheets as well. Beside him, a woman stands on a small platform wrapped in veils and little else.

“Come now. Come and see, m'lords. Rozanna's Royal Harem ne'er disappoints, and ne'er declines, so long as you've the gold to spare.” The caller speaks with the well practiced confidence of an orator. “Our latest treasure. From the deserts of Al-Anashab, a beauty unlike any you've seen in the south, or elsewhere in the world. A princess, by birth, made common by circumstance.”

The men let out a long chuckle at that. Everyone wanted to fuck a princess. Amazing how many worked at brothels after being stripped of their birthright by some nefarious uncle or conquering warlord.

“Yours is a delight to be seen, not heard. Lower your hood fine maiden, so they may gaze upon your beauty.” He peddles his wares well, you'll give the caller that. You are about to turn away when the hood drops.

Caramel skin lightly freckled over her high cheekbones. Warm, enticing eyes, half hidden under hair cinnamon hair cut boyishly short.

“I give you Layla! Lost treasure of Al-Anashab, now found. Princess, let them see your full majesty.”

The girl, Layla shot the caller a look of irritation tightens her arms around herself.

“Now, wench.” The caller's face flashes darkly and Layla recoils. Her veils drop, catch briefly on the fullness of her waist, before puddling at her feet.

She is a vision. Her breasts are nicely shaped to her slender frame, a narrow waist tapers into wide hips in a perfect hourglass. As she turns you see the fullness of her rump, a pair of rounded peaches. Her skin is smooth and blemish free, dark as her face everywhere but her sex, where she pinkens like ripe fruit. The fire in your loins intensifies. But you pause.

Ever since you woke, you've felt more in tune with your body. Your vision feels sharper and with it you notice something. An oddness... in Layla's form. You've met plenty of whores, and you've seen highborn ladies in a similar position. It is said that the elves of Elileithel can read the language of a man's body and probe a mind merely by watching his gait. You are no elf, but you feel as though you are on the edge of something. As if you are on the very tipping points of understanding. Something about this girl- aside from the obvious- rings false.

“Hello, Sir Duke.”

A handsome woman approached; her stout figure wrapped in modest white dress, her red hair was pulled back in a simple strand, a few traitorous gray streaks did little to diminish its luster. Her face showed few lines, but spoke of a classic beauty just on the wrong side of middle age, still her full lips and dark eyes aroused even now. Around her neck, pillowed upon her generous bosom was an ornate necklace, large to the point of being garish, silver and gold wrought together to form a naked woman, whose modesty was preserved by a serpent wrapped sensuously around her form. Most Madam's had their talisman cast from bronze, but then most Madam's weren't Rozanna.

Decades ago Rozanna had been a runaway ****. She'd been on a dozen campaigns before Magus was even born, working in the cookfires all day and on her back all night. She had a reputation for an iron will long before she took over the brothel where she sold herself every night. Afterwards she quickly gained a reputation for shrewd business, edging out competition.

“Roz, a pleasure as always.”

Full lips gave way to a pleased smirk. “The pleasure is mine, your Dukeliness. Congratulations upon your noble victory. My girls and I are so grateful, you've saved the Kingdom, yet again.”

He found her insolence charming, truthfully he always had a soft spot for Roz, she was discreet and professional, she would have made a good Frost Knight. And those lips looked almost- He crushed the thought.

“I see you have a new attraction.”

“Hmm? Oh, Layla. Of course. Exquisite, isn't she? Worth keeping your eye on." Rozanna's brow arched inquisitively. "She'll buy me a third house before this campaign is through.”

The caller holds out two small sacks, one already bulging with coin, another that men were drawing odd leather tags from. Each stiff tag was marked with a number. “Who'll be the first man to show her the ways of love? Who wants a chance at desire? A chance at legend? No Kings or Dukes in this draw, all men are evens before the fates. Only a half ducat for a chance."

"A lottery? Why would they throw away their gold for a chance at a woman, when there are plenty to be bought for a night."

"I've known many men, your Grace." You don't doubt it. "They are wonderfully capricious creatures. Some play because love the risk. Others play because their friends do. And a few sad men play because they simply can't help themselves. I suppose the real question is, why do you play?"

You don't give her the satisfaction of answering, pretending instead to study the crowd. Her musical laugh tells you how much she is fooled.

"She is something though. A mind as tight as her quim. And that is a true gift for any woman." Roz studies the girl with a well traveled eye. "She'll replace me soon enough. Ha! If I were twenty years younger, I'd give her a run for her money."

"As a competitor, or a customer?" The words slip out. Natural, but not yours. You feel yourself hardening at the thought of the two women together.

"Both."

"Perhaps you retired too early?" Your stare into her eyes with intensity, not bothering to hide your lust.

"Flatterer." She laughs, hiding a flush in her cheeks. "You need a woman. May I show you my wares?"

"No. I know what I want Roz."