GOING BOSTAL
3. Chasing Butterflies (part b)
"Uh... Uhh! Yeah... Yeah, that's it. Uhh..."
The sailor's grunts were low and harsh in Gretchen's ears as he lay on top of her, the weight of his body pressing on her chest as he drove himself deeper inside her. His rhythm was getting faster now, his gasps more urgent and driven. Good. That meant it would be over soon.
Her halter was shoved up around her neck, baring her ample, freckled bosom. Likewise, her short skirt – all the better for enticing the customers – was bunched up at her waist, while her panties dangled from her right ankle. The crude cot was narrow and hard, but it wasn't as if a lot of sleeping got done on it. Gretchen closed her eyes, hating the feeling of the stranger inside her, and waited for him to expend himself.
"Yeaahhh..." he groaned, clutching her breasts, kneading them greedily as his hips jerked spasmodically and muscles contracted in his groin. And then he pulled out, spurting sticky fluid all over her belly and breasts. "Yeah," he muttered, looking down at her half-naked body, then reaching out roughly to smear the gunk into her white skin. "Yeah."
Then, without another word, he climbed off her, refastening his breeches, and ambled out the door, heading back to the taproom. Gretchen sighed, letting her head fall back to the lumpy pallet as her fingers tentatively stroked her stomach. It already felt tacky, and the smell made her want to gag.
Oh, Lambult's blood, she hated it when they did that.
Heaving another deep sigh, not even bothering to tug her halter back down, she climbed off the cot and stumbled over to the small table in the corner. Taking the damp washcloth, she began swabbing herself down. Trying to erase the smudges that his semen and his touch had left on her body.
She leaned forward, resting her head against the wall. No, she never seemed to get cleaner. It was already too late for that.
A few minutes later, with her clothes pulled back into place, she walked out again. Shannah was still behind the bar, filling tankards. The taproom was alive with rowdy sailors – one reason Gretchen preferred to work the day shift, despite the proportional drop in tips and ‘patronage'. The wage she earned as a serving wench was a pittance, scarcely enough to keep her in food and board. It was the extra services she provided that would, at least theoretically, get her home eventually.
"Notch up another one for Gretch," Shannah remarked, her dark eyes fixing on Gretchen, then flickering back out onto the floor, where the two evening girls were flirting with the customers – bending over to retrieve tankards, leaning forward to give generous tippers a better view of their assets, squealing in mock indignation when parts of their anatomy were pinched, and occasionally even seeing that the customers got their drinks. "Ya know, you'd earn more if ya worked the night shift, Gretch. Those two ain't quite yer quality."
"I know," Gretchen said. She'd serviced three patrons today. Shannah took more than half the fee as ‘agent's commission'. That made another two-and-five she could contribute to her ‘going home' fund, provided that the debt collectors didn't drop by any time soon. But they would. The bloodsuckers could seemingly smell when she had coin on her. "I'll be heading home now. See you tomorrow."
"Look out fer yerself," Shannah said, slamming another two tankards of grog onto the counter. "Hey, Alix, ya worthless bitch! Order up!" she barked.
Wearily, Gretchen wove her way across the taproom towards the front door, doing her best to ignore the groping hands and the crude remarks masquerading as wit that greeted her passing. This wasn't the sort of life a merchant's daughter was supposed to lead. Where had it all gone wrong?
The drizzle earlier in the evening had given way to a gentle drifting rain, though the low rumble of thunder in the distance let Gretchen know that the mild conditions weren't likely to last much longer. Besides, she'd lived in Port Bostal long enough now to know that things seldom stayed amenable here for any length of time.
She hadn't brought her cloak, tattered and threadbare though it was. It had been sunny this afternoon when she'd come in to work, so she'd left it at the boarding house. Ah well, nothing for it but to walk as quickly as she could and hope not to get caught in a sudden downpour. That was if she didn't get accosted on the streets by drunk sailors, or militiamen looking for protection money. She'd been shaken down enough times to know the rule of life down here on the Docks – every man, or woman, for themselves.
Still, maybe the rain would keep the undesirable elements indoors for the night. It wasn't likely, but it was something she could hope for as she—
Gretchen paused, squinting down the street. The rain seemed to coalesce around the streetlamps as if coveting their radiance, which made it a lot harder to see, but she was sure that someone was there, just down the street a bit. Maybe if she hid in a doorway, whoever it was might pass by without noticing her.
The figure became a bit clearer as it shuffled forward, its staggering gait seeming to indicate a drunk. Well, that was a bit better, Gretchen supposed. Granted, she might have to wait a bit before the drunk managed to make his way down the street past her, but he'd probably be quite oblivious to—
But then, with a muffled groan, the drunk collapsed in the street. Gretchen hesitated. It could just be a ruse – bait for soft-hearted marks. But he was pretty far away, and Gretchen was standing in the shadows. He couldn't possibly have seen her from over there.
I'm going to regret this, she figured, but she picked up her courage and hurried forward to where the drunk was lying sprawled on the cobbles. He was fairly short – shorter than Gretchen, who wasn't considered ‘tall' by anyone's standards – and dressed almost entirely in black. He wasn't wearing a scarf, which didn't necessarily mean he wasn't a sailor, although members of the maritime union seemed to take pride in their status, wearing their scarves even when off-duty. And he...
The right side of his head was streaked with dried blood, his dark hair thickly matted with it.
Oh, for Lambult's sake... she groaned to herself, inwardly. Why did I have to find you? Anyone else would just have left you here and gone on their way... but noooo! Not Gretchen! Gretchen's too stupid to be that callous! You probably are just some sort of ruse, aren't you? A pack of Blood Mongrels is going to jump out any second...
"Hey!" she hissed, crouching down at the stranger's side. "Excuse me? Are you... Can you hear me?"
No response.
"Excuse me?" Gretchen persisted, reaching out tentatively to touch his shoulder. "Are you all right?" What a remarkably clever thing to say, Gretchen, she rebuked herself. ‘Are you all right?' Sure, he's just fine. The side of his head looks like it could be caved in, but he's perfectly all right...
"Uhh..." the stranger moaned.
"Come on," Gretchen said, grabbing his arm and pulling it over her shoulder, then heaving him to his feet. The boarding house was still a long way off and, short as the stranger was, he was surprisingly heavy. Solidly built. The tavern was the only choice, then. "Come on," Gretchen repeated, gently, looking across at the face so close to hers. "We'll go get you cleaned up."
Sake seemed to be good for Oukami-sama. He'd looked a bit funny all day, with a kind of worried expression on his face whenever Anna had looked at him, but now he seemed a lot more relaxed. And, to be honest, Anna was feeling pretty good too. The sake's warmth had started in the pit of her stomach and spread through her arms and legs, making them feel loose and a bit wobbly. Her head was buzzing a little as well, making her want to laugh and giggle and sing. Drinking was fun. No wonder adults liked it so much.
She sidestepped lightly along the street, enjoying the sensation of the light drizzle on her face. The sky overhead was brooding with clouds, and Oukami-sama thought it was going to storm later. Well, then, there was no better place to be than back in their room at the inn! She was looking forward to starting her music lessons as soon as they got there.
Or maybe she and Oukami-sama could play a bit, first. That sounded like more fun, actually. They could play a bit tonight, and have the music lesson sometime tomorrow. Not while he was out singing, obviously, but maybe in the afternoon. Or tomorrow night. Definitely tomorrow night.
She'd missed him this morning. Kurai-sama was interesting and everything, and he knew a lot, but he just wasn't the same. Grumbly, for one thing, especially the past few days. Just not as much fun to be around – not like Oukami-sama, who was cool and strong and good-looking. Poor Kana-chan. Imagine being stuck with a master like that, who wouldn't even do it with her!
Anna giggled as she remembered Kana-chan's embarrassed confession. They'd done it once. Once! Anna couldn't see how that was any kind of fun. But still, Kana-chan was different. She was a lot slower and didn't seem to understand about having fun.
"It's easy!" Anna had told her, dozens of times. "If you want him, just go up and start doing things to him! You're pretty, Kana-chan. He's a man. It's not like he's going to say, ‘No, thank you'! That's all you have to do."
But Kana-chan had just blushed. "But I... I... What sort of ‘things' do I do? How can I be sure he'll like them? What if he thinks I'm... too brazen?"
"You just rub his thing," Anna told her, patiently. "Guys like it when you touch their thing. And then you rub up against him. Make sure he gets a good feel of your boobs. And when you kiss him, flick your tongue around all over the place."
"My... my tongue?" Kana asked, sounding surprised.
"Like this." Anna demonstrated, poking her tongue out and waggling it in the air. Kana just covered her mouth with one hand and stared at her, wide-eyed.
No wonder Kurai-sama always looked so frustrated. Anna was sure he'd start feeling less grumpy if Kana-chan would just look after him better. It was so obvious. Why couldn't they see it too?
She glanced back down the street at Oukami-sama, who was strolling along a few paces back, humming quietly to himself. He was definitely feeling more laid-back; he hadn't even put her on the leash. The leash was a lot better than that heavy chain, Anna had to admit. That thing had dragged at her neck all the time, making her collar pull sideways and keeping her slightly off balance, like the ground was sloped in the direction of the chain.
Maybe the ground is sloping, and we're all walking tilted sideways? Anna pondered. So maybe the chain was actually pulling me back in the right— Oh?
There was something small and bright fluttering around her head, glimmering in the light from a nearby streetlamp. It was... it looked like... a butterfly.
"Ohh!" Anna gasped, as another blue-and-green butterfly started its dance around her head. "So pretty! Oukami-sama, look!"
"Huh?" Oukami-sama asked, drawing closer and peering at the butterflies curiously. "Chiisai-chan, aren't those from your hairclips?"
Still watching the butterflies as they wove and darted around her, Anna reached up to feel her left hairclip. The wide end of the clip was blank and smooth; these butterflies were definitely the ones.
"Isn't it cool, Oukami-sama?" she asked, turning to him. "You bought me a pair of magic hairclips, and you didn't even know! I wonder why they started flying? Maybe it was the rain. Or maybe they just do it at this time of night. I— No, wait! Butterflies! Butterflies, come back!"
"Chiisai-ch—" Oukami-sama made a grab for her arm, too late, as the butterflies fluttered off down the street and she gave willing chase.
"Come on, Oukami-sama!" she laughed, struggling to keep her footing on the slick wet paving stones. "Maybe they'll lead us somewhere good!"
"No!" Oukami-sama yelled. "Don't just— damn it!"
The butterflies led them a merry chase for about fifteen yards down the street, before turning and flying down a side alley. Without letting up her pace, Anna darted sideways and kept running after them, dodging around a red-scarfed man who was just emerging from the alleyway.
A few moments later, she heard Oukami-sama grunt as he collided with the stranger. "Oof!"
"Hey," the stranger barked, aggressively. "Why don't ya watch where yer goin'?"
"Sorry, I didn't mean to run into you. Now, if you'll excuse me—"
"What if I don't excuse ya?"
"Well, then... Ah, hell. Chiisai-chan! Wait!"
But Anna was deeper into the maze of alleys by then, Oukami-sama's voice growing fainter behind her. The butterflies were harder to see now, dancing up and down on the breeze just a few yards ahead of her. They flitted down another lane to the left, and Anna rounded the corner to—
"Gotcha!"
A strong hand latched around her waist, its partner clamping itself over Anna's mouth, silencing her loud squeals of protest. She twisted her head, eyes wide, as the butterflies came to rest on the outstretched finger of a familiar-looking man.
"Welcome home, my beauties," the hawker said, moving over to Anna and deftly pulling the two blank hairclips from her hair. "And a good evening to you, precious flower."
Anna chomped her teeth down on her captor's finger hard enough to make him yowl in pain and curse, reflexively pulling his hand away.
"Give those back!" Anna snapped, fiercely. "Oukami-sama bought them for me! They're mine!"
"I don't think you understand the nature of your situation," the merchant said, as the butterflies landed on the hairclips in his palm and merged with the metal once more. "The issue is not one of your property – not that slaves are allowed to own property anyway," he added, almost offhandedly. "You see, beautiful one, you are property. Property that has just changed hands."
"Yeah, and thanks for yer help," Anna's captor said as he covered Anna's mouth again, positioning his hand a bit more carefully this time. "Couldn't have kept following them out in the open like that fer much longer. This one's master was gettin' suspicious. You and yer bugs made it a lot easier to track the two of ‘em. One thing, though, Kassim – how'd ya know she was goin' to choose those clips?"
"A simple spell of mesmerism," Kassim said. "Enough to garner her attention. And then a subtle mental suggestion that these precious objects were the ones she wanted."
"Clever little ruse." Anna felt her captor's attention shift as the sound of footsteps approached from further down the lane. "That you, Lou?"
"Yeah," the other said, jogging up to them. "Saw the girl's master runnin' off in the wrong direction. We're in the clear, I reckon."
Anna glared indignantly as she recognised him as the man who'd bumped into Oukami-sama, distracting him. Just you wait! she thought, vindictively. Oukami-sama's going to kick your butt!
"That's fer the best. One mother of a tough-looking bastard, that one. Wouldn't fancy tryin' to take him down, not like his pal."
"I trust my portion of the deal is complete, then?" Kassim asked, tucking the butterfly clips into an inner pocket of his robe.
"Yeah, don't you worry," Lou said. "Mister Clancy'll be gettin' back to ya soon enough. You'll get yer share."
"I would most certainly hope so," the hawker said, bowing slightly. "Parting with such valuable merchandise for a mere twelve pence has damaged my reputation considerably. My cousin Abul, in particular, will never let me live it down..."
"Yeah, yeah," Lou said. "C'mon, Ollie. We'd best get goin'. We'll take her back ta our joint and sit on her till... What the—?"
"Thunder Slash!"
A burst of elemental energy tore through the drizzly night like a divine comet, flashing down the narrow laneway to catch Lou squarely in the chest, catapulting his twitching body to the dirty cobblestones.
"Oukami-sama!" Anna cheered, somewhat muffled by the hand over her mouth. Ollie turned, alarmed to see Oukami-sama charging down the lane towards them, his heavy longsword unsheathed and crackling with residual electrical energy.
"Ah, hell!" Ollie squeaked, throwing Anna across his shoulder and lunging desperately in the direction of the main alleyway.
"Uh, m–mighty lord!" Anna heard Kassim protest, half-heartedly, as Ollie turned left and sprinted deeper into the rat's nest of back alleys. "Might I venture to say that—"
A loud gurgling scream was the last she heard of the erstwhile merchant.
"Chiisai-chan!" Oukami-sama howled, as Ollie fled with her into the night.
Next: A selfless act