Apparently.

“Innkeeper,” Shairi said, “Get me a cloth and a wash-basin.” The man hurriedly obeyed, clearly nervous of her after what he’d just seen. Once it arrived she quickly began cleaning the drying cum off her. She noted out of the corner of her eye the way the innkeeper’s teenage son tried to hide his fascination with the sight of her washing her breasts. Once she was finished, and had rebuttoned her shirt, he tried to avoid looking at the way the cloth clung translucently to her curves. His sister, meanwhile, stared at Shairi with open curiosity.

The half-elf gathered up the mercenaries purses, and took one of their daggers, too. “You can have the rest of this stuff,” she told the innkeeper, “In exchange for twenty silver and the cost of my room, drinks and meals.” He frowned, but nodded, knowing it was a good deal.

As Shairi ate her supper, the bard came and sat beside her. “Thank you for saving me,” she said. “If it wasn’t for you, those men would have…”

“Spent all night **** you.” Shairi finished, taking a malicious delight in the other woman’s prudish discomfort.

The girl blushed, but nodded. “I’m Maeran, by the way. I just qualified as a full bard this year.”

“I’m Shairi. I’m heading to the capital.”

“Really? Me too. Do you, um, want a travelling companion?”

Shairi considered. She couldn’t see what harm it could do, and who knows? The girl might be useful. She shrugged. “Alright.”

Shairi lay back in her bed in the inn, with Queiss curled up at her feet. The day had not been bad, all told. She had money, now, and better prospects than she’d had yesterday. Of course, she’d been **** to taste someone’s cock against her will – that was something she’d been hoping to avoid. But, generally, a good day.

Suddenly, she tensed. Someone was knocking on her door.