She doesn't stop kissing me

My world has shrunk to only the person in front of me, Mia, and I can only imagine that she is experiencing a similar phenomenon. But slowly, almost reluctantly, the world around me slowly begins to saturate with noise. The murmur of a tavern full of people, mugs clunking together filled and settling onto tables empty, moans both high and low and some muffled plap plap plap’s as well.

Glancing around, I notice some barmaids circulating around the tables. In the time I’ve been gone, the place has really filled up. Sets of doors on either side of the main room have been opened and I spy numerous patrons in those spaces as well. I can only imagine it’ll remain this busy until closing time tonight.

And those barmaids are really less circulating as they are being…passed around. I focus on one and find that these lovely ladies have titles under their names, denoting what job they are currently working: Tavern Wench. I assumed that was the derogatory term and avoided using it but these busty bimbos wore the title like a crown.

The girls went to tables with food and drink and usually got a tip as they dropped off their loads. The ‘tip’ varied from patron to patron but it usually fell into a couple categories: receiving a different kind of load to carry around, a slap on the ass, a sip from a mug, or a kiss somewhere on their bodies.

They practically slosh around the rooms while their entire asses hang out from under their frilly miniskirts and their unsupported chests bounce and jiggle as they lean over tables to deliver drinks or pleasure. One or two of them have forgone the white frilly undershirt and have their bare breasts on display resting on top of the tight fabric bodice of the uniform. This city really is the best.

My attention is brought back to Mia Momma as she stirs from her micro-nap and fiddles with her bracelet, reading words that only she can see. A few turns and taps and a piping hot meal appears on an empty plate in the vicinity, a faint puff of purple mist rises from it and dissipates.

She pushes it to the outside edge of the bar and yells, “Boblin!”

I hear some grunts and the pitter patter of small bare feet on the floorboards and soon enough, two three-fingered hands shoot up to grasp the edge of the plate and hoist it up over his head. He scuttles his way back to his table and starts devouring his meal.

I look to Mia and find her staring at me. She gives me a kiss. And then another kiss. And then a third kiss.

“I don’t know why, my darling,” she whispers, her lips hovering just barely touching yours, “But…kissing you is just so right.”

She pulls away after one more quick peck and returns back to the disposition of a jovial but firm tavern owner soon after. I think I saw the real Mia briefly. She _showed _it to me.

This is getting dangerous. I met her just a little while ago, but my heart can’t help but skip a beat when she gives me that tender look full of affection.

Is she playing with me? Is she acting all lovey dovey just to get on my good side? Apparently I’m a pretty big deal to this city, the first ambassador from a foreign entity outside their city. And judging by these crowds she must get hundreds of customers every day. She must be this close to at least a couple of them, right? Her specialty is service, right? And the best feeling is coming home to a wife or lover or partner that loves you. Roleplay? Is that what this is?

Is she just…no. It’s too real. I saw a glimpse into what she is like when she gets angry or frustrated and she turned to ME for help. I pulled her out of that downward spiral and she was so relieved and grateful that I was there to do that. Right?

Right?

Mia Momma had walked away to tend to other customers at the bar but quickly made her way back to me and took my hands in hers, wrapping them around a mug of warm ale.

“It’s on the house,” she says, but doesn't remove her hands from holding yours and looks straight into my eyes.

“Are you sure you got enough rest, darling? You weren’t gone for very long at all. Don’t push yourself on my first day in the city, okay? It's not even three o’clock yet,” she puts a warm, soft hand on the side of her face much like I did to her minutes ago and she kisses me tenderly.

IT’S REEEEEEEEEEEAALL!!!

She pulls back to see shock in my eyes and blushes gently, looking away.

“I’m sorry, Adler. It seems I got…carried away.” She removes her hands from mine and fidgets with her skirt, embarrassed, “You’re just so, you know, kind and-and-and handsome and…and don’t make me say it again. You make me feel respected and-and safe and…ugh…shit.”

She puts a hand on her face covering her one eye and half of her forehead. She apologizes again and her face becomes noticeably redder. She yells out to a tavern wench named Annabelle that she’s going to go in the kitchen to finish up some orders and bustles off.

I’m now sitting there on a bar stool, mind reeling, heartbeat resonating loudly in my head. My butt seems glued to the seat and I look down to stare at my hands, wrapped around the mug of ale. A pale brown reflection of me stares solemnly back, small bubbles rising underneath my superimposed face. Some stray locks of my hair swing into vision, but my mind is elsewhere.

This feeling is new to me. I’ve cared about people before, sure. They always seem to grow on me, eventually. My parents I love, of course, the girls at the temple, they’re important to me too. And every time I think that these feelings might be something more, I blow my load and my mind resets itself. I was in lust, not in love.

My ale reflection chews on its lips and moves its jaw around, deep in thought until it becomes closer and closer and I take an absentminded sip. It’s the same ale from earlier today. A bittersweet apple-tinged ale. A warm bubbly concoction.

It’s fucking delicious

My instincts kick in and tell me somebody has their eyes on me. I check my peripheries before spinning around on my stool and meeting an intense stare from across the bar. It’s coming from someone who I noticed before, the petite elf that was here when I walked in for the first time. Her eyes are a very pale gray and large in proportion to the rest of her face. Her ears are way longer than my average elves’ pair of knife ears.

A moon elf.

She beckons me over with a tilt of her head. The emotion on her face is difficult to discern.