Flaunt it

Never waste a good pigtail, that’s what they used to say in the backalley neighbourhoods. You grab the sides of the front of her skirt and apron, take some string, begin tying them to the ends of her braided pigtails, making it look like she’s flashing everyone her undies - or like the drawbridge is always up, to put it in medieval fantasy parlance.

You depart the scene of the crime and walk back to the booth where Vanessa’s watching, frozen like everybody else in the tavern. You’re tempted to give her rack a bit of a grope too but decide against it. Maybe later. At your insistence, time crawls forward again. There’s a loud splashing of liquid as the ale that was suspended in midair plummets downwards and spatters across the barmaid’s upper torso, soaking her hair and the top of her bodice. She interrupts her hearty laughter with a surprised scream, and tries to shake off the liquid thats running in rivulets down her hair and face, coughing and spitting away the beer running down her mouth and chin. She finds she has trouble shaking her head though, as her hair’s tied to her skirt! What’s more, her clothes are now drenched in beer, causing an impromptu wet t-shirt look in between the pigtails, her nipples and the contours of her breasts very plainly visible through the fabric.

The barmaid yelps and grunts as she tries to get her braids loose, as attention is slightly (but far from entirely) starting to turn away from Evellyn and towards the wench. A nearby patron reaches out and pinches her butt through her panties, and she hollers and spins, simply turning the front of her exposed undies right at his face. A few more gropes and ass slaps are drawn to this seeming invitation. “What a look, love! Is this the latest fashion?!” someone comments from afar. The wench starts blushing, beats away some of the reaching hands, and quickly rushes past the bar to the backroom to get herself sorted, her breasts visibly bounding through the soggy bodice.