The morning after

Arn awoke with a start. It was way past sunrise, and the surface under him felt strangely soft. Where in the nine hells was he? He instinctively reached to his left side where he always kept his sword, but his hand only found the soft featherbed.

”Where is it?” he grunted.

”Don't worry, darling; it's right where I left it last night... between your legs.”

Milla's laugh brought him back, and Arn peered around the room. Now he remembered. Milla sat at a table over in a modest kitchen at the opposite corner of her chambers. She was draped in a silk robe and studied him with that mischievous but warm smile that he recalled from last night.

”Good morning,” she purred. ”I tried to wake you earlier, but you were so deep asleep that I figured you needed the rest.”

She was right. Arn couldn't even remember the last time he had slept in a proper bed. But his good night's sleep did nothing to ease the feeling of guilt that now struck him. He got up and immediately began gathering his belongings. He found the trousers he bought yesterday and clumsily started putting them on.

”Uhm, I have to get going,” he murmured.

Milla raised an eyebrow. ”So soon? Darling, have some breakfast first at least", she said and gestured to an empty chair opposite hers. ”I went to the market and picked up some fresh bread and cheese while you were asleep and I can't eat it all by myself.”

Arn realized that it would have been rude to just run out of there, and he had to admit that the scent of fresh bread was very tempting. He joined Milla at the breakfast table.

”So what are you so eager to run off to?” Milla asked between mouthfuls.

”My business,” Arn said curtly.

”Ah, of course, the kind that is none of mine," she said teasingly and gave Arn a curious look. ”But are they by any chance – Larissa's?”

Arn jumped at the mention of her name, and he grabbed Milla's arm, ”What do you know about her?” he hissed. ”Speak, wench!”

”Well, I guess you don't remember, but that is what you called me at least twice when you orgasmed last night,” she said calmly. ”Then you said it a few more times in your sleep. I figured the name must mean a lot.”

Arn let go of her arm. ”I... I'm sorry”, he grunted.

”It's me who should be sorry,” she said while rubbing her arm. ”I shouldn't have poked you like that, darling, but I was just curious,” she sighed, ”I had a great time last night, but I have been around long enough to know when I play second fiddle. I might be able to help you though.”

Arn sat in silence for a few moments, then decided to follow his gut to trust this girl, ”You might,” he said. ”Do you know someone named Igren? An old soldier from up north. Large bastard with a scar on his left cheek.”

Milla bit her lip, ”Hmm, that sounds familiar actually. I know of a fellow like that. He owns a run-down tavern over in the Muddle. I was there once. The wine was horrible and the guests even worse.”

That was all Arn needed. He got up from the table and gathered his stuff. He had work to do and no more time to waste.

Milla got up too. ”Oh, leaving already?” she said and opened her silk robe, letting it fall to the floor, once again exposing her curvaceous body. ”I was just about to take a bath, and I could use some help washing my back,” she cooed.