Chess - Opening Moves

Jon Chess opened his eyes, and immediately regretted his hasty decision; daylight was far too bright. His head felt like a minotaur has performed a hat dance on his cranium. A moan reached his slightly-pointed ears, and he recognized it as his own voice.

"Ah, the young hero awakens!" spoke a voice, characterized by both excessive cheer and excessive volume.

"Have you no respect for the dead?" Chess complained in a whiney voice. He winced - he hated how pathetic he sounded when he whined.

"Oh, hardly dead - what kind of a healer would I be if I lost patients with such slight injuries?" chuckled the voice. "You have suffered some violence to the back of the head, but hardly life-threatening - the most danger you are in is if you don't pay my bill... and Mother Freona has pledged to pay for your treatment in any case, so you should be quite safe."

Chess gathered the facts he had just learned; first, he had been injured. Second, he was in a clean bed. Third, someone - this "Mother Freona", whoever that was - had engaged a healer to attend to his injuries. Fourth, his injuries were not considered serious by the healer. Fifth, he felt like a cow whose carcass had been violently rejected from a dragon's stomach. He weighed all the information, and went back to sleep.

* * *

When Chess woke again, the sun had gone down and he was no longer afflicted by its insufferable brightness. His head ached, but at a tolerable level, as if he had merely tried to match Dwarven mercenaries ale-for-ale. Chess sat up in the bed. The movement inspired a wave of nausea - perhaps he HAD engaged some dwarves in a drinking contest... but no. The pain of a hangover was a generalized pain, and this headache seemed localized to the back of his skull. Chess gently explored his cranium with his fingers, wincing as he found the swollen, tender area from which the pain emanated.

He was in a bedroom, with a door on one side of the bed, and a window with frilly lace curtains on the wall opposite. Under the window was a writing desk. Next to the bed was a small table with porcelain basin, ewer, and a small folded towel.

Under the bedding, he was quite naked. Ordinarily, that might have alarmed him, but he saw that his weapons harness, containing his brace of knives and the baldric holding his longsword were hung with care from a hook at the back of the door.

Rising naked from the bed, he washed his face, and drank some of the water. Crossing to the window, he looked out upon the dark street. The street was cobbled, but the side street and alleyways leading from it were muddy dirt.

"Well, I don't seem to be a prisoner, at any rate..." he muttered. He considered this a step up from other times he had found himself awake in similar circumstances.

He thought back to the last thing he remembered. He had arrived at the gates of the city Phlan after dark. Phlan was a study in contrast - technically over a thousand years old, the city itself had been razed and destroyed several times, but the prime location on the north bank of the Moonsea ensured that there was always a financial reason to rebuild, time and time again. The city had itself been destroyed by dragons, and recovered by the Zhentarim lord Cvaal Daoran, who had begun the most attempt at rebuilding. Cvaal Daoran's grandson Anivar Daoran died without issue, and the commander of the corrupt Black Fists, the city guard, had declared martial law. In short, Phlan was a dangerous and chaotic place to live, and justice only for those who could afford to purchase it. It had sounded like the perfect place for someone like Jon Chess, who made his living as a private investigator and privy agent.

Chess had bribed the guards at the gate to allow him entry after dark, but they hadn't taken his silver until they had first checked to make sure he had his left ear. It had struck Chess as rather strange.

He had started hunting for an inexpensive inn in which to spend the evening, preferably one where he could get an evening meal. He had not gone far into the city before a hastily-cut off scream had caught his attention. He had followed the noise to an alleyway where three human ruffians were manhandling an older Halfling woman. The Halfling had struggled like a champion, but was clearly out of her weight class. Chess had not hesitated - he had drawn his longsword, and struck the nearest of her assailants dead before they even knew he was there. The remaining two thugs had turned and drawn their own weapons - one of them had brandished an iron-capped club and shortsword, and the other an axe and wavy-bladed dagger.

The dance had begun. The Halfling woman, freed from the grasp of the footpad with the club and shortsword, had backed away deeper into the alleyway while Chess had taken a few steps back, drawing his opponents forward. His opponents quickly separated trying to get on either side of him, but the alleyway was not quite wide enough to allow them to encircle Chess. Chess' longsword danced lightly; it was of Elvin make, and perfectly balanced. Its extra length gave Chess would have given him an advantage over either of the enemy if he had been fighting them singly, but as it was he was able to hold his own. As he fought, Chess noticed that both of his foemen were missing their left ears, and he was willing to wager that the dead man would conform to the pattern. It seemed like a particularly stupid affectation, especially for those who engaged (he assumed) in criminal activities; the general idea was to avoid identifying characteristics. The Halfling woman has still hiding at the other end of the alley, which apparently was something of a dead-end. Chess was, on the one hand, grateful that in their surprise they had released her and not thought to make her a hostage. On the other hand, since she could not escape, and they stood between Chess and the Halfling, they might think of taking her hostage at any moment.

Chess was a skilled swordsman, but he had not survived on the streets and alleys of Waterdeep by fighting fair. His free hand ducked under his cloak to the small of his back, where he sought a small packet of powder encased in stiff parchment. He crushed the packet in his free hand, holding the powder in his closed fist. Feigning an attack on the enemy with the shortsword and club, he spun swiftly to the other and lunged, parrying the axe and launching the crushed power into the eyes of his other foe. For a split second, nothing happened, and then the fellow screamed in agony. The thug dropped his dagger, and tried to clear his eyes from the ground pepper seeds. Chess barely had time to pink the fellow's shoulder and run past before the other enemy pursued.

Chess always carried small packets of finely-ground spicy pepper seeds; ordinary road food was so bland and tasteless that the powder had made many an evening meal more something to be savored than endured, and while expensive, a little of the powder went a long way. That it also had a tactical benefit was also not to be despised at need.

Now, standing between the remaining thug and his Halfling victim. he had felt much more sanguine. Slowly he forced the thug back onto the defensive, pushing him nearly to the mouth of the alley. Chess managed to cut his arm when he didn't recover fast enough. The other enemy had deserted his comrade, seeking a remedy for the burning of his eyes. Things were going well... when something had struck him on the back of the head, and he had collapsed.

"So much for the mystery of why my head hurts" Chess mumbled. The real question was not "Why does my head hurt", but rather "Why am I still alive to feel the pain?" To that, he had no answer.

Chess yawned. Clearly, the answer was beyond his limited cognitive abilities at the moment. Chess crawled back into bed, pausing only long enough to relocate one of his throwing knives from his weapon harness to underneath his pillow.

* * *

Chess awoke to a pleasurable sensation emanating from... well, from below his belt line. He opened his eyes and looked down at the shock of curly, deep red hair. His blanket had been pulled down to mid-thigh, and his legs were pinned by the weight of the woman whose lips were teasing the hard shaft of his cock. Chess lay there for a moment, of two minds; he was not entirely sure that allowing someone he didn't know (and was not a paid professional) that close to portions of anatomy that he felt very strongly about keeping intact. On the other hand, it was wisely said that only a fool examined the teeth of a gifted horse. He cleared his throat. The head did not cease its movement, but a charming giggle came from the otherwise-occupied lips.

"Whooooooooo" Chess started to say when the lips captured the head of his cock and took it fully inside her mouth, making Chess sound like a demented owl.

On some occasions, idle conversation was more trouble that it was worth.

Whoever she was, this was clearly not her first time. Her lips and tongue swirled up and down the length and head of his cock. Thought become secondary - clearly, if rational thought or prudent judgement was needed, her victory was complete. Chess' hands reached down and gently stroked the red curls, petting his fellatrix gently. She let his cock slide from her lips with a lewd plopping sound. She reached up and stroked his cock with her fingers, wrapping a fist around its length. She looked up, and Chess was gifted with a view of a very winsome Halfling face.

"Good morrow, my good fellow" she said, punctuating her conversation with licks to his cock.

"Good morrow indeed, mistress...?" Chess choked out, trying to focus enough to not appear of limited wit.

"...oh, my name?" She paused, taking the length of his cock deep into her mouth. "My name," she purred sexily, "is Reese."

"I am pleased to make your acquaintance, Miss Reese," Chess replied. "My nay nay..." he stuttered as his cock again plunged into her mouth, "name is Chess. Jonathan Chess". The last part of his name came out as a hiss. Reese seemed to make an extra effort to make his speaking as incoherent as possible.

"A pleasure to meet you, Master Chess," she said, stressing the word 'pleasure'.

"Oh no... the pleasure is all mine" he managed to get out before moaning at her ministrations.

"That is how it should be!" she said, nipping him ever so lightly with her teeth. She allowed his cock to slide out until all but the head of his cock was free of her, and then proceeded to suck and swirl her tongue around the sensitive flesh while her hand fisted his wet cockshaft. Chess could feel himself move in rhythm with her touch, and knew he wouldn't last much longer. "I am close..." he said in a low voice, giving her fair warning of his impending eruption.

"Thank Yondalla it is so!" she replied, laughing. "Too much more, and my jaw would hurt all night." Chess thought about that for a fleeting second; while his cock was not of extraordinary length nor girth, he supposed it must be rather more impressive to a Halfling lass, given proportion and scale. "Release when it pleases you, and it will please me to have had an early Second Breakfast!" She increased the pace of her exertions, and before too long was rewarded with a geyser of half-Elvin seed. She pulled away from Chess, smiling and her mouth closed, and ten tipped her head back, clearly enjoying herself.

"That was amazing, Reese. Thank you" Chess said.

"You are quite welcome, Master Chess," she said, her face split by an impish grin. "And now that I've had Second Breakfast, let me pop down to the kitchen and see if there is something I might get you to eat - after two days, I bet you are quite hungry!"

"Two days? I've been asleep for two days?"

"Oh yes - Master Alcibiedes healing draughts always make a person sleep" she answered, slipping through the door.