The nearby brothel

Luckily for you, some clever entrepreneurs had realized that pirates like you who may have gone weeks without even seeing land—much less a woman—were a group with an untapped need. The brothels that had popped up around the island of Tortuga meant that a pirate never had to worry about getting laid when returning to port.

You head toward your favorite tavern, still a little tipsy from your night of carousing. The building is nondescript—the brothel doesn't even have a name—but most pirates know the place well. You rap your knuckles twice on the solid wood door, and are ushered into a waiting room with a madam. A stern looking woman probably into her 50s, she looks you up and down before asking, "You have gold coins?"

"Aye," you reply, jingling the coins in your pocket. "I have plenty for one night. Who do you have today?"

She pulls aside a screen door and ushers in two girls. One is curvier and shorter, with brown hair and ample breasts. The other is taller and dark-skinned, slender and supple with a firm apple-bottom ass.