Off to the docks!

The prospect of a little adventure appeals to you at the moment, so you decide to make your way toward the docks. There’s bound to be some excitement at the Sailor’s Delight, your favorite tavern. Situated practically at the edge of the piers, the tavern is the first stop for many sailors fresh off the ship, and the prospects of good food and sex always make the sailors ready to fight.

Once out of sight of the entrance to the Institute, you duck into an alley to change your clothes, so you aren’t recognized as a student as soon as you near the docks. Being pick-pocketed and stabbed is not what you had in mind for the evening.

You situate yourself between some old rotted crates and a discarded wagon loaded with forgotten sacks and boxes, where you hope no one will see you changing. The crates are stacked as high as you are tall, so you should be well shielded from casual eyes well enough in one direction at least. You hope the wagon and its load will be enough to obscure you from the other end of the alley. You set your bag down on one of the crates, and strip your robe off.

You have already replaced your shirt and breeches when your foot taps against something soft. Grimacing at the thought of what must be now staining your school-issue shoes and cursing yourself for not changing them sooner (you didn’t want to be standing barefoot on the dirty water running down the alley so you had slipped the pants on over your slipper-like shoes); you peer down to find out what it is, almost afraid to know. You crouch down for a better look under the wagon.

To your surprise, it’s a young woman, a few years younger than yourself, lying on the cobblestones with a bottle of cheap liquor wrapped in her fingers. She is dressed in a provocative, form-fitting white shift, stained from lying in the alley. By the muddy water stains on the dress, you suppose that she probably slept outside last night and went under the wagon to avoid the rain. You see a small, fresh smudge on her ass, and realize that you must have given her a light kick while you were changing. The shift is pushed up a bit, revealing a bare and very enticing ass, wearing no underclothes.

While still deciding what to do, you hear a moan come from the woman. She stirs, looking around slowly for what disturbed her. From under the mess of the tangled brown hair, you see her eyes rove over to you. She is lovely, despite the grime on her face.

“Lemme wake up before you get started, there swee’art,” she mumbles. Her words come out in slurs; she must have been sleeping off quite a lot of drink under this cart. You stare at her, a puzzled look on your face, until you realize that she’s looking at the front of your breeches, which you had not yet laced up.

You then realize what she’s intending. “Uh, wait, I didn’t mean--” You stand up, starting to say how you didn’t mean to wake her, but she waves off your remarks.

“Is nuthin’, darlin’,” she drawls. “But we aught ta talk business first, don’t you think?” She has now managed to push herself into a kneeling position, looking up at you with a drunken coquettish gaze.

“Well, you see, I was just meaning to--”

“Pay me after, right?” she says, cutting you off again. “Well, that’s not how Carly does business. You got to gimme the coins up front, then we can get to it. Now, since I have recently become an independent contractor,” she pauses to make a wobbling gesture toward herself, “I am offering a special deal so that I can make some regular clients. I am offering a new-client fee of only three silvers, for whatever you want. Whaddaya say, love?” To emphasize her eagerness to complete the deal, she inches forward, and her hands snake up your legs and grab the laces of your breeches. She begins to tug playfully at them while she looks up at you, waiting for your response.

Now you understand. She must have been thrown out of one of the brothels for some reason, and is now whoring herself on the street. You know that a girl goes for at least five silvers at even the lowest of the taverns, and after the establishment has taken its cut, the girls rarely see more than a fraction of it.