Ciri heads to a tavern

The inn was small, but bustling, matching the tiny village it belonged too. The only populated area between Karlik's estate and the camp where she had left a dozen dead bandits for the centipedes to feast on.

Ciri could hear the music from inside, see the glow of lantern light through the muddy glass windows. She fiddled with the vial in her hand, rolling the glass between her fingers. She had to make sure.

She pulled the small cork stopper off with her thumb, gave a final glance to the clear liquid inside that had **** her to do so much and downed it all.

The warmth on her tongue was a familiar unwelcomed comfort, and she let out a heavy sigh. She wore her normal hunting clothes, leather pants and corset, a jeweled belt and a thin blouse. She had hidden her weapons and supplies at her camp just outside of town. They would not be needed here. She prepared herself and unbuttoned more of her top, making sure her breasts were on display to anyone that looked. She licked her lips then entered the tavern.

The music kept playing, a two-man band, one on a harp the other singing a tavern song. Ciri could feel eyes on her.

She approached the bar and but and was met there by a lanky man with yellowed teeth and a grin on his face.

“Whatever the lady likes,” he said slamming down a coin on the bar.

She looked at him, he was three heads taller than she, stringy and thin with a nose to large for his head and large hands.

Hands that could easily wrap around her throat, her thighs. Long fingers that could touch places she could only dream. Ciri bit her lip and groaned feeling a familiar need wash over her.

“Thanks,” she muttered,

“Join us,” the man offered motioning towards the table.

Three men sat waiting and watching, leering at her. She turned back to the man, his eyes focusing in on her ample cleavage.

A week ago she would have agreed to his request without a second thought, she would have agreed to any request. A week ago she would have thrown herself at them. Been on her hands and knees within the hour begging to be fucked. But this wasn’t a week ago.

If the potion had worked, saying no would be as simple as breathing. Ciri glanced over to the group of men at the table. If the potion didn't work, well it was going to be another long night