Your Room at the Grimalkin and Rooster

{if Time of Day = 3} The common room at the Grimalkin & Rooster is well frequented. You walk past traders and Mariners, burghers and prostitutes, past bowls of stew and past meat sizzling in dark sauce. Root Beer and thin wine flow from the tap, filling tin mugs and smaller glasses.

You take your own evening meal upstairs in your room. {if Dice 2 = 1} The Innkeeper’s Eldest slips into your room, carrying a tray filled with red-dark meat and surprisingly delicious wine, but fades away before you can even thank her.{elseif Dice 2 = 3} A Haggard Waitress brings you a loaf of chitinous bread, a half-hearted apology and some grog. {elseif Dice 2 = 4} A Haggard Waitress brings you a bowl of spongy stew, a loaf of chitinous bread, and a tankard filled with foamy ale. {elseif Dice 2 = 5} A Haggard Waitress brings you your bowl, a loaf of fresh, white bread and some grog. {elseif Dice 2 = 6} A Haggard Waitress brings you your bowl of fishy stew, a loaf of chitinous bread, and some sour wine. {else} A Haggard Waitress brings you your bowl, a loaf of chitinous bread, and some grog.{endif} The sounds of merriment, of songs and moans, rise through the rafters, reminding you of distant ports and absent friends. You finish eating, {if Dice 2 = 3} swallowing down the dry bread, {endif} ready for whatever the night may hold.

{elseif Time of Day = 2} You step into the Grimalkin & Rooster for a quick midday meal inside the deserted taproom. The Innkeeper’s Eldest serves you thick stew and thin wine. She stays for a quick chat and for the offered drink.

The two of you talk weather and politics, and about the price of fish. You make some innocent jokes and she, laughing, moves close and closer. The one other customer, {if Dice 1 = 1} a bearded accoucheur, {elseif Dice 1 = 2} a dour domestic, {elseif Dice 1 = 3} a dubious anchorite, {elseif Dice 1 = 4} a dubious anchoress, {elseif Dice 1 = 4} a retired coastermonger, {else} a retired costermonger, {endif} takes her away for a moment, but she soon returns with a bottle of Rum and two glasses.

You leave the Grimalkin & Rooster smiling and a little tipsy.

{elseif Time of Day = 4}

You climb down to the deserted taproom for an early midday meal. The Innkeeper’s Eldest serves you thick stew and thin wine with exaggerated disinterest. But she soon returns for a quick chat and for the offered drink.

The two of you talk weather and politics, and about the price of fish. You make some innocent jokes and she, giddy with laughter, takes care to keep a chaste distance. The one other customer, {if Connected: The Innkeeper’s Eldest = 3} a retired prostitute, {elseif Connected: The Innkeeper’s Eldest = 2} a blind priest, {else} a retired harbour pilot, {endif} takes her away for a moment, but she soon returns with a bottle of Rum and two glasses.

You leave the Grimalkin & Rooster smiling and a little tipsy.

{elseif Time of Day = 15}

Your room inside the Grimalkin & Rooster is stuffy with the smell of night sweat and sex. The street outside brings fresh air, mixed with the stench of burning Tar and the nearby pig market.

The Innkeeper’s Eldest brings breakfast, entering your room without a knock and smiling all the while. She slams the toasted bread and shark roe down on your desk, spilling some coffee over the gilded rim of a bone-white cup and bending low to unfurl your newspaper. Her eyes linger on your naked body, a subtle blush spreading all over her adorable face.

”Sir.” She curtsies and turns to leave.

{elseif Time of Day = 16} Your room inside the Grimalkin & Rooster is stuffy with the smell of night-sweat and sex. The Younger Dustwell’s perfume lingers, mixed with **** and arousal. You open a window, and the street outside brings the stench of burning Tar and the nearby pig market.

The Innkeeper’s Eldest brings breakfast, entering your room without a knock and smiling all the while. She slams the toasted bread and shark roe down on your desk, spilling some coffee over the gilded rim of a bone-white cup and bending low to unfurl your newspaper. Her eyes linger on your naked body, a subtle blush spreading all over her adorable face.

”Sir.” She curtsies and turns to leave.

{elseif Time of Day = 21} You wake, drenched in sweat and unable to remember. {if Sanity < 4} Your heart races from forgotten terror, and your waking mind conjures vague memories, the distorted remnants of naked shapes, Fey and alluring. {endif} Morning wood tents the sweat-soaked blanket, and your room inside the Grimalkin & Rooster is stuffy with the smell of sex. Beside you, the Perpetual Virgin stirs, close to waking.

She leaves – usually – in the dark of night, and she does pride herself on her professionalism. Usually.

You open a window, and the street outside brings the stench of burning Tar and the nearby pig market. The morning air is bracing cold on your naked erection, and the thin blanket on the bed has exposed the Perpetual Virgin’s alabaster breast and stiff nipple. Your cock twitches, already close to bursting.

”My dearest friend...” The Perpetual Virgin has turned her head to face you and regards you with her watercolour eyes. ”I must apologize. I must be in a state.”

She is not. Every inch of her body looks perfect, flawless and clean. Even your dried cum on her thighs and smooth sex looks elegant, like an expensive powder ground from rare earth to enhance the beauty of a Society Lady’s legs.

”You certainly are.” She licks her lips and beckons you closer. ”Allow me. A token of my inconsolable despondence. A gesture of my goodwill, however incommensurate to my myriad failings.” She lowers her voice to a whisper and smiles at you through down-cast lashes. ”I’ll suck your cock and let you fuck my throat. My treat.”

You do not hesitate long. Her joyous expression is an irresistible invitation, and her open mouth begs to be filled. Precum glistens on your tip and she, moaning, envelops it with her full lips. You feel her tongue swirl along your shaft, and a muffled moan makes you caress her hair. She sucks you in, ready for you to thrust into her.

You have her impaled, her nose buried in your pubic hair, when the Innkeeper’s Eldest enters without knocking and with your breakfast tray in hand. The young woman’s guileless smile turns to surprise, then shock. Her grip slackens. Dark wood and brittle, bone-white porcelain fall to the floor, the cup and plate shattering into a thousand pieces.

Toasted bread and shark roe explode all the way to the bed. A coffee current surges, dammed by the tray and today’s newspaper. The Innkeeper’s Eldest screams but cannot tear her eyes from your naked bodies, from the Perpetual Virgin’s slobbering kisses and from your rock-hard cock. A subtle blush spreads all over her adorable face.

”Forgive me, Sir, Ma’am,” she says, remembering. She runs to the exit and turns in the turn, again eyeing the two of you. ”I’ll get a... A... Just let me...” And she is gone, the door left ajar.

The Perpetual Virgin answers your obvious question with renewed vigour. She trails her tongue along the underside of your shaft, taking your balls into her mouth. ”Do it!” she says and kisses your tip. ”Fuck my throat! Hurry! Spray me with cum and – uhhh – ahh!”

Both her hands were touching you, caressing your chest or rubbing along your length. She stole away a few moments to tease her tits, to **** your gaze down to her stiff nipples, but she soon favoured your back and knee with her ministrations again. Her face showed saintly bliss. Lust, carefully curated, and the regal look of benevolent judgement.

Now hunger burns in her eyes, deep and dark. ”Ahh!” A shiver runs, like a herd of gazelles, along her majestic legs. ”Unghh!” She presses skin on skin and forces pressure against her quivering slit. ”Such a – ahhh – state.”

You tear your eyes from the dewy opening and shut her up. Her vise-like throat constricts around your cock and she, gagging, touches herself outright. A second orgasm seizes her, even wilder than the first. Uncontrollable shivers move her tongue and pull you deeper.

You are close.

”I should like to feel you.” The Perpetual Virgin has stopped your thrusting with a tap of her palm against your chest. ”I would like to feel you on my skin. Would you do that for me, my dear friend?” she says, beaming up at you, and slinks from the bed and down to the floor. ”Would you like to cum on me? Cum on my face, First Officer, cum and shoot your load over my tits.”

You pull back and, jerking yourself, aim the tip at her. She, licking her lips in anticipation, watches the movement of your hand. Then you flood her.

The Innkeeper’s Eldest returns just as your second spurt hits your lover along the nose, crossing the first. The rag in her hand tumbles to the ground and she follows it down. Her hands search blindly, finding nothing, as her face is of a height with your cock.

You cover the Perpetual Virgin’s breasts and, unable to stop yourself, feed her your cock again. She, always the consummate professional, takes the thinning spurts and then shows them to you, swirling your cum in her open mouth, before she swallows it down. Your softening member twitches and she cleans it with considerate kisses and wet slurps.

The Innkeeper’s Eldest has found her rag and moves it, and herself, ever closer to the bed. She marvels up at you, her cleaning efforts forgotten.

”I beg your forgiveness,” says the Perpetual Virgin. She wears her dress again, the fabric uncreased and fitting to her form. ”The both of you. Such a state,” she pauses. ”And such a shameless display. First Officer. Miss.”

You watch her leave, realizing your state of undress as soon as the door closes behind her.

”Sir.” The Innkeeper’s Eldest has deserted her rag again and holds your pants in her hands instead. ”Allow me.” She crosses the coffee sea to find your shirt and shoes. ”Anything else you need? Breakfast is served in the common room if you’re so inclined.” Her prim outfit clings to her body, a stiff peak visible against {if Connected: The Innkeeper’s Eldest > 0} her silk-thin blouse. {else} the starched lined. {endif} ”I’ll get right on cleaning up the mess, Sir. Are you not hungry, Sir?”

You pull up your pants.

{elseif Time of Day = 9} The dreams are different at land{if Sanity < 3}, but no better{endif}. You wake drenched in sweat and unable to remember. {if Sanity < 3} Your heart races from forgotten terror, and your waking mind conjures vague memories, the distorted remnants of hazy nightmares. {else} You feel refreshed if hot. The floor underneath is strange and firm, and the noisy City is unlike the terrific sound of the ravenous waves. {endif}

The Innkeeper’s Eldest brings breakfast, entering your room without a knock and smiling all the while. She slams the toasted bread and shark roe down on your desk, spilling some coffee over the gilded rim of a bone-white cup and bending low to unfurl your newspaper.

”Sir.” She curtsies and turns to leave.

{elseif Time of Day = 10} The sound of the Innkeeper’s Eldest slamming your breakfast, toasted bread and runny eggs, down on your desk breaks you from your reverie. She has entered the room without knocking, and small smile plays on her lips. You blink, not quite sure if you’re dreaming. Your fingers are claws, cold and stiff, clutching the graphene pen as if your life depended on it. A tear rolls from your aching eye and you clear your throat.

"Sir? Are you alright, Sir?" Genuine concern chokes her voice.

You are not. But you are done. And you find the words to calm her.

”Sir.” She curtsies and turns to leave.

{else}Your room inside the Grimalkin & Rooster is stuffy with night sweat and forgotten dreams. You open a window, and the street outside brings the smell of burning Tar and the pig market. You wash and dress yourself, your back turned towards the open window and bracing air.

The Innkeeper’s Eldest finds you in a presentable state when she, without knocking, enters the room. A warm smile on her lips and the breakfast tray in her hand brighten your mood. She slams the toasted bread and shark roe down on your desk, spilling some coffee over the gilded rim of a bone-white cup and bending low to unfurl your newspaper.

”Sir,” she says, already closing the door behind her. {endif}