You each try your best.

(This one's for xgkf, glad you like Salara as much as I do.)

Locking a girl like her back into the room of horrors where she had been held for the past few days was not an option, and there was no way you'd trust her alone on the roof top. Besides, in spite of all the benefits of her upbringing, you had to admire this girl - she might just make it.

"OK, princess." You tell her firmly. "You're with me for now." Before you could stop her she throws her arms around you and presses her soft body against your side.

"You'll help me find Airlia?" She breaths softly against your cheek. Her excitement is as evident as the warmth of her soft breast pressing against your arm; the shear silk tunic that she's wearing is so thin she may as well be wearing nothing at all. As you try to push Iola away, your hand slips through a shockingly immodest gap in her tunic and presses firmly against a warm mound of flesh that is even softer than her thighs had been. For just a second you cup the soft breast before pulling your hand away, as good as it feels, you aren't really into girls - certainly not a spoiled chit like this. Irritated as much by your reaction to her closeness as you are by her assumption that you are there to help her, your next words are a little sharper than you intended.

"Let's get out of this shit hole." You whisper a little too loudly, glad for the veil of darkness that keeps you from seeing her reaction to being groped. Orestes had almost certainly been much rougher with her than that one fleeting caress - you can still remember the way his bony fingers had clawed at you years before - but that doesn't make it OK for you to continue what he started. You lead the young woman out into the stairwell and down the twisting steps to the next set of rooms. Unlike to top room, the door to this room is unlocked and the door opens stiffly when you push against it. Keeping a firm grip on the slender bicep, you push her into this room and close the door silently behind you so you have as much privacy as possible.

"Listen carefully girl." You swing her around in the blackness until your hands rest on her shoulders. "I am not here to help you; I'm here to kill Orestes, I don't give a rat's ass about you and your stupid sister." She tries once to pull away but realizes immediately that she is no match for your strength and size. Then to your surprise she changes her approach.

"Are you sure you won't help me?" Her voice is soft and breathy. "I can get you money from my father, and anything else you want." Her soft hands find one of yours and drags it down to the gap in her tunic. "I've heard you plebeian women will take pleasure with other women if there are no men around..." You should be either annoyed or amused at Iola's dismissive assessment of your status in the city, but instead all you can think about is how good her breast feels cupped in your hand as she continues softly. "I'm not skilled as a lover, the only ones who have ever touched me like this have been Quintus and Or..Orestes," you can hardly blame her for stumbling over that bastard's name after what he did to her, "but you can show me what to do."

"Wait just a damn minute!" You back away from her, "Let me get a lamp lit." From a small belt pouch you pull a miniature bronze oil lamp, the lamp has a wick no larger than a candle's and the oil only lasts for a small part of the night but it is perfect for sneaking about in the darkness, and you've had so much practice with it that you can light it in absolute darkness without much trouble. After hours of stumbling through near blackness, even this one little flame seems as bright as the noonday sun.

In the light you finally get to see what your companion looks like. You can now see that her tunic had been crudely modified; the once modest neckline had been sliced open past her breasts explaining how your hand had slipped so easily under the tunic and the expensive embroidered fabric ends high on her thighs in a ragged hem. Beneath the short skirt of her tunic Iola's legs look even longer then they probably were and her bare feet are as delicate and soft as they felt. Her light brown hair is darker than you had predicted, but her large doe-eyes and small mouth gave her a look of innocence and naivete that you doubt you've ever had.

"Please Mistress Salara," The sheltered young lady's lips trembled but she persisted in her attempts to convince you, "It's my fault that Airlia's in trouble, I'll do whatever I have to to help her." She steps forward shyly and places her hand on the black silk of your sleeve, squeezing the lean muscles of your arm. "You can have whatever you like of me," she glances at the bed against the wall, "nothing you do could be as awful as how Orestes would have used me." She pulls open the top of her tunic showing you the pair of plump little breasts that you had held in your hand just minutes ago. "F-f-fuck me," she pleads with a glistening of a tear in her right eye, "fuck me now, but do it quickly before it's too late."

Your mind whirls at the unexpected offer, a half-dozen times before you've held women in your hands, but neither of them had been as sweet as this tasty little treat, and you weren't all that tempted to seek out more women. Not all that tempted that is, until now. On the other hand, time was short and the last thing you needed in your quest of vengeance against Orestes was to have an inexperienced chit like this tagging along and slowing you down.