Maxine

Maxine awoke with a bitching headache. She threw the blankets over her head to block out the sunlight that was pouring in through the open window before a sudden wave of nausea hit her.
Where the hell was she? Her memory was fuzzy, but the evidence was clear. She had gotten smashed and fucked some guy. She could still smell the sex in the air,but the guy probably left hours ago.
She wondered what he’d given her... Maxine believed in the adage “Nothing in life is free” and sex was no exception. She hoped he hadn’t given her any info, because she sure as hell couldn’t remember it.

She slipped out of the bed as naked as the day she was born, the cool air caressed her body and her nipples hardened in responce. Her body was still highly sensative from the rough administrations she had received the previous night, but she ignored it, and proceeded to the grimy mirror hanging on the wall.
She peered at her reflection, and her brilliant brown eyes peered back at her with distate. She was sporting a very ugly hicky, and her hair was a mess. She went to her bag and pulled out a hair brush. Heading back to the mirror she began the task of detangling her raven hair. Normally her hair fell to the middle of her back, but she liked to keep it up and out of the way. When she was finished she tied her hair up in to a loose ponytail, and went back to her bag to fetch some clean clothes. Not bothering with underwear, she pulled out her pale red, light weight leather armour. The outfit was fairly plain, but suited its purpose. The top had a v-neck, which showed off a small amoutn of her cleavage. The shirt had long sleeves, and the bottom was cut high, showing of her taut midriff. The pants were almost skin tight. They hung low on her hips and fell to just above her knees. She slipped in to the tight outfit, and then, last, but not least, she went to the bed side table to fetch her belt and dagger. The belt itself was somewhat decorative, and wrapped around her waist twice before clasping shut. The dagger was one of many things she never left home without.

Just to be safe, she checked her bag to make sure nothing was stolen, and headed out of the room. The noise wafting up from downstairs confirmed her suspisions; She was at an inn, The Stag, if she wasn’t mistaken. It was her prefered choice for food and sleeping arrangments. She headed down to the pub, and as she descended the stairs, she caught the eye of the bartender, Darren. He gave her a sly, knowing grin, and she realized at once that it had been him she had slept with the previous night. A wave of relief washed over her. She hadn’t forgotten any info. Darren’s talk was cheap. It was the food and bed that cost you, but Maxine and Darren had an “arrangment”. It wasn’t that Maxine couldn’t afford to stay or eat. It was that it takes money to make money and she wasn’t about to waste her gold on something like a meal, if it could be gotten by “other methods”. It was a win-win situation for her either way. Darren was a hunk. He was almost 7’ tall, and had broad shoulders and well developed muscles. He had to have had a different profession before buying the inn. Maxine guessed it was something extremely masculine, like a mettlesmith. Darren may have looked like a wet dream, but he had his downsides too. He was a charmer, but he was fairly dull-witted and boring.

Maxine sauntered up to the bar and dropped her bag infront of it, and then waved to Darren. He was busy cleaning mugs with a white rag, but grinned at her in acknowledgement.
“Was it good for you too, babe?” He asked with a laugh.
“Don’t know. Can’t remember.” Maxine smirked evily as she shrugged her shoulders.
“You wound me, babe!” Darren feigned pain, before laughing it off and asking, “You want the usual breakfast ‘special’?”