Arn would like some company

“I might,” Arn replied, pulling his lips back to form a friendly grin as he tried to remain non-committal for just long enough that he could scan the barroom to make sure that no one was looking at him. He was aware of the fact that the ordeal that he’d been through over the last few months had probably made him a lot more cautious than he’d used to, quite possibly overly so, but he still felt the need to try and make sure that the redhead wasn’t a part of some scam to first get him blind-drunk and then rob him blind.

“You might?” The wench asked with a naughty wink, once more catching Arn’s attention just as he’d decided that no one was spying on him, drawing his eyes to how she wrapped her slender fingers round the long, thin neck of the bottle of brandy and leaned towards it ever so slightly, thus causing her tits to almost jostle free of the low neckline of her blouse.

“It’s a good thing I’m not easily offended,” the wench continued on, all the while making sure to captivate Arn with the slow ascent of her fingers up the bottle’s neck, even going so far as to pump her fist downwards a few times to further reinforce the suggestiveness of what she was doing.

“Have a seat,” Arn offered the wench, his grin deepening into a full-blown smile as his cock grew harder and he noticed how the thin, white fabric of the blouse that she had on meant that he could make out her nipples.

“Where?” The wench’s voice grew sultrier as she made no attempt to hide how she was admiring the features of Arn’s face, her teeth bared in a naughty smile, “In this chair, or on your lap?”

“You can start with the empty chair,” Arn replied, maintaining his smile and liking the wench’s boldness, even if he didn’t quite understand the reason for it. Normally, if a wench also worked as a prostitute, she’d simply proposition her prospective customers as quickly and as clearly as possible, in accordance with the adage that time equalled money. And with her looks and figure, the redhead should have been able to get a spot in some place much more upscale than this particular tavern if she choose to work as a whore.

“It’s a start, I guess,” the redhead replied in a playful enough tone, seating herself in the other chair and uncorking the bottle of brandy, “So, what’s your name anyway?”

“Arn, and you?”

“Milla,” the redhead introduced herself, pouring Arn a drink.

“And you’re sure I’m not just some pauper?” Arn asked, trying out the brandy as Milla filled up her own mug.

“I hope not,” Milla replied, raising the mug to her lips and waving it at Arn, “Because if you are, I’ll have to pay for the drinks and food.”

“I’d best eat up then,” Arn decided, trying out the stew while Milla sampled the brandy.

“So, what do you think of the stew?” Milla asked once Arn had swallowed the first spoonful of it.

“It’s alright,” Arn said, and feeling quite charitable about it.

“The food’s not the best thing about this place,” Milla helpfully explained, pushing her ample chest out at Arn.

“Anyone can see that.”

“Oh, you’re a smooth-talker, aren’t you?” Milla jumped at the opportunity to tease Arn a little, reacting to the soft chuckle that he let out at her doing so by having her voice turn sultry and seductive, “Want to know something about this tavern?”

“What?” Arn asked, liking Milla more and more with each new word that she said.

“It’s really close to my place…” Having said that, Milla curled her lips up into her naughtiest smile yet.