Figleaf Leatherworks Ch. 06

Chapter 6

Emory stalled at the cross section of Quartz street and some nameless alley, backlit by the hanging lanterns that surrounded a natural end point to the street. The outside of the Hung Buzzard looked as if it'd been slopped together with tar and planks more paint than wood any more. He easily imagined the whole place swaying if the breeze hit it right.

Why would a daemon- or anyone as rich as Glysless want to hang out in a place like this?

The inn was nestled among the other rot like so much garbage, the light spewing through the double doors cast a thick sickly orange tint over a terrace ringed by wrought iron the color and smell of wet rust. As Emory got closer he swore he heard the tortured metal groaning warning of its impending death-- whether by the machinations of a daemon or structural failure, he wasn't quite sure.

But as soon as he stepped through the door all that faded away; the inn had a surprisingly pleasant atmosphere with big wood pillars shod in iron bands and brightly glowing lamps who's flames danced over all kinds of hunting trophies and paintings of people with massive creatures. Some fought them toe to toe, some stood or knelt in front of them like proud captors. The place even had a mezzanine with the skeleton of a monstrous bird of some kind dangling from the ceiling-- full and complete as if in the act of landing with its wings spread from one side of the building to the other. Its eyeless skull stared at the open doorway contemptuously, daring its presence to be ignored or its majesty to be tarnished by the rot of Quartz Street.

In some twisted way it was starting to make a lot more sense why Glysless liked the place. What did it say about her, though? Emory adjusted the bag at his waist and went looking for his client. He half expected her to be at the bar among a half dozen other patrons, but she'd found a corner to nest in with her back to the wall and a stool too big for the table she was at. An impressive spread of meats were arrayed on the table around a pitcher of beer and a bottle of wine- both half empty. She glanced up at his approach with bleary eyes and a toothy smile.

His breath caught when he saw the dress she was wearing.

He'd been thinking about what he was going to say from the moment he'd left the corsetiere's. He'd planned out this elaborate song and dance to give her money back, but now?

Seeing her there draped in thick bands of satin that started around her throat and swept down her breasts leaving plenty of cleavage tucked between them, he lost his nerve. The fabric outlined her form with slavish devotion to every twist and turn of her powerful musculature until it could do no more and pooled helplessly around her waist and over the stool in a tumbling fall of glimmering dusk.

Her wings were spread so that the muscles of her back threatened to stretch the dress beyond its means to contain her; it was a statement: at any moment and with the merest flick of her body she could be free of all that confined her-- she was contained by choice. She'd removed the gold paint from her horns giving them the same crow's feather shades as her dress and for just a moment- just one, Emory swore to himself, he imagined her blonde locks tangled up around those horns and his hand playing among them.

Glysless gave him this wry, knowing smile backed by the ageless wisdom he'd only ever seen in Lindress's face. Was Emory staring? Had he committed some kind of daemonic transgression? Maybe there was a way to save this. He rifled through every compliment he could think of. Non offensive, not too suggestive and not too familiar...

In his infinite wisdom, his brain shat out a specific kind of brilliance: "Sorry, I don't mean to stare, but when you told me I should only believe half of what goes into your mouth, I wasn't expecting so much of it would be meat."

They stared at each other.

"Uh....c- can I try that again?"

"Probably for the best." Glysless poured a beer for him. Was she smiling?

Emory cleared his throat. "I get tongue tied around staggering beauty."

"That's more like it," the daemon woman said as she slid the beer over and invited him to sit. "Help yourself to whatever you like."

"With all due respe--"

"Ah, ah, ah. You're my guest, let's assume you're sitting at my table presupposes mutual respect and we..." She motioned as if grasping for the word. "You got here before I was entirely drunk, I'll take that as a sign you're willing and able to keep my respect. So we can speak plainly, hm?"

"Ah- s- sure." Emory fidgeted a little. This was just a business transaction, there was no reason for his heart to palpitate! He had this under control. "You look incredible..."

Glysless sipped her own beer. "And you played that card already."

"I'm trying to find that point where I want to bite off my own tongue to avoid further embarrassment-- I'm still in the nibbling stages, but I think I'm getting there pretty quickly."

"There are more constructive things you can do if you're so bent on nibbling, mister Emory." Glysless leaned forward casually so her cleavage plumped against her sculpted biceps. She caught his glance, smiled languidly as her eyes flickered orange. "Are you always this coy?"

"Ah- coy. Not really. You uh....you have a presence that most don't? It can be a bit much."

She sipped from her beer, watching him patiently. Expectant but casual.

"Sorry, I don't speak to many daemons; I mean no offense, but it's not often I get the privilege- honor."

Another sip. More time dragged by.

Emory's gaze drifted to his own beer for several quiet moments. Distantly he could feel parts of himself becoming more aware of the woman's presence as if she was a heavy mist on a warm day-- something primal in him wanted to meet her gaze confidently and smile. Lay out all the plans he'd made and show off just how damn capable he was. He and Keline had put so much time and effort into their designs, why shouldn't he have been confident that their client would like their work? He wasn't wrong to be proud of that!

He took a deep breath, a sip of bravery and pulled the designs from his satchel. "Speaking of privileges, we've been working to create some designs I hope you'll enjoy. It's been a real treat working on--"

Emory's voice died on his lips when he saw her looking at him with sharp orange eyes. That beautiful icy blue had given way to the searing heat of a dying sun melting his soul. She was smiling faintly as she plucked the designs from his hand.

"You know," she said in a purr. "You are very attractive when you're pleased with yourself."

Emory downed more beer as his client looked over the stack of designs. "You've given me a lot to think about today."

She glanced up at that. Winked.

"I uh, I don't mean to pry-"

"Emory," Glysless said in warning. "Don't go from sugar to sap. Speak plainly." She squinted at the design while she sipped her drink.

"I was wondering who this is meant for. If I knew more about them, I could customize some of the tooling and design to match their personality if that's what you're going for."

"Ohh, that sounds exotic."

"Some of them, like this one here? These cutouts we can do with a backing material to give it a layered appearance, we can do lettering and script, too if you ah..." How much did he dare push? All the way. "If you wanted to write your name on their clothing- or something else....we can do it in elven, almost no one in the city will know what it means."

Glysless's eyes flicked up from the artwork. "You know Runics?"

"Spoken, too."

"So it was the elf girl!" She laughed melodically. "Why didn't you say so?"

"Ah- no, no. She's a good friend, my best friend, but we're not involved."

"Ohhh, is that regret I hear?" Glysless teased. Then, in pitch perfect elven she added: "Or maybe you're involved with her brother?"

"You have a strange fascination with the idea of me with a man."

Glysless smiled playfully, studied him for a long moment. "She must be about your age--"

Then it clicked. Like a bolt of lightning her eyes turned blue and she perked- her brow arched. "There are three elves in this city, did you know that?"

Emory blushed furiously. He wasn't about to admit he didn't, anything he could do to keep her off the scent was probably a universal good.

"My, my, my....now that is a mystery."

In a vain effort to keep things on track Emory picked up one of the design sheets. "We were uh- p- particularly proud of this one."

She humored him, pulling the drawing up close. "Oh, that is nice. It looks very fitting and comfortable....can you-" her gaze flicked to him. "Can you make the side parts out of heavier leather?"

"Yes, of course, it's how we'd get the shape you wanted for it. Oil tanned leather forms to the body, but vegetable tanned will need time to form around it, it'll have a more distinct outline by comparison- so less 'following the lines' and more 'defining them'. And we can tool those panels with designs and anything else you'd want.

"We did some planning on these, we'd have to skive it thin so we can really get what you want. Otherwise it'll be too heavy to wear without a lot of breaking in."

Glysless pushed the rest of the stack aside, she ran a delicate finger over the design. "So oil to caress and vegetable to constrict, hm?

"Ah, that's not a bad way of thinking about it....we can thin it out in places and add a backing of vegetable tanned if you wanted to erhm, 'tighten up' certain places."

"Mmm. That sounds lovely, doesn't it?"

A brief image sprang to Emory's mind of Glysless in the corset he and Keline had designed- it'd have followed her strong outline tight and close, caressing her stomach even as its strength supported the arch of her back and swells of her hips. Though he wasn't positive how he'd do it, he imagined being able to slide up between her shoulder blades and cradle the muscles between her wings before delicately winding down around her breasts, perking them up a bit and cradling them--

And then she was looking at him with a wry smile.

"She must be pretty special, to want this for her." Emory said tentatively.

Glysless traced her finger over the paper, musing. "Sometimes I wonder." She looked to him. Lingered. Her gaze gently peeled away every part of his being down to the rawest nerve that was Emory and she smiled the most serene and welcoming expression possible with fangs as large as hers. "I like this."

Emory found himself smiling too, maybe not as serene or casual, but more relaxed than he had been since meeting this woman. "Well, if I may say so, I think it's going to be you who makes it look as beautiful as it does in my mind's eye."

"Oh?"

"Any mirror can reflect beauty, but it takes someone's appreciation it to make it beauty."

Glysless smiled faintly, chin on her hand. Her eyes were a little glazed with alcohol but some part of her still peeked out from the fog. "A leather worker's philosophy, hm? Tell me more."

"Uh, let's see. Don't attempt one cut to make a curved edge when many smaller ones will get you a cleaner result."

"Profound," she said tonelessly. She downed the rest of the beer and picked up the design once more. "What will you make the slip out of?"

"We'd been thinking hemp....it'll be strong but still light against the skin."

A small nod. "Mmmm, and the blouse, too?"

"Ah, cotton. It's going-" shit, why hadn't he thought of how he was going to present this earlier? "We- I think it'd be easier to get sweat stains out of."

"Have much experience getting sweat stains out of cotton, do you?"

"I do, actually..."

Her gaze lingered, she smirked. "You'll have to show me some time. Mmm, yes. I think this will do nicely. You implied you'd like to know more about the person this is meant for, perhaps I will paint you a picture, hm? On the corner of Libsen is this charming young lady that wears a short black dress- now normally? Normally you'd overlook her, but she has this tattoo on the back of her thigh that shows just so much of the mindset of who this is meant for." Gylsless smiled teasingly. "It's a surprise, though, so I can't just show you. But, maybe you get a glimpse of it on the way home tonight. She's often out there at night..."

Emory took that in as he polished off his own beer.

"Where are the designs for the other items?"

"I uh- I'm sorry, we didn't have enough time to give them the detail they deserve. But I can bring those tomorrow?"

"Or..."

"Or?"

"Mm, maybe you would do me the kindness of helping me to my room? Once I stand up, I'm going to need a hand. Perhaps two if you're very good about it."

He didn't even think about it, he got up as if it was the most normal thing in the world and offered his arm to the woman half a head taller than he was. She took it and leveraged herself up- wobbled a little. Leaned against him.

Her skin was warm to the point of being hot against his own, but Emory held his ground against her. He took her weight without complaint, subconsciously daring to sample the tang of her natural spicy scent. They walked up the stairs with the bar flies following them with greedy eyes and thirsting smiles. No wonder she'd wanted him to help her, daemon or not she probably wasn't a physical match for four men drunk on booze and courage.

When they got to her door she slipped the lock deftly and eased in, Glysless started to open the door wider for Emory when she realized he wasn't following. She turned, braced on the doorway. Her eyes were still a bit hazy and wary, yet strangely welcoming. Honest and open, like there was no reason to hide her true self. Maybe she'd drunk enough before he'd showed up for the alcohol to melt away her mask.

"There we are," he said softly. She opened the door wider, started to move aside in invitation. He wasn't taking the bait. "Can I get you anything else? Maybe some water? Hangovers are a bastard."

"You're a good person, you know that?" Glysless said in a sultry purr that made Emory's heart flutter.

"Uh, thanks?"

"Why don't you come in?"

Emory swallowed. "Ah....if I've learned nothing else from my father, it's that you don't become someone else's morning after regret. And, I still haven't talked to my uh--" What was Lindress, exactly?- "person about anything." Great job. Very smooth.

Glysless emphasized the height difference between them subtly, leaning forward. She spread her wings just a little so that her dress tightened against her hard nipples. "Do I look too drunk to make good choices, Emory?" She said in a husky voice. "Or are you suggesting you're a bad choice?"

"W- well....no, but that other thing still stands."

She deflated some, glancing aside. "You're a good person, Emory. I hate that about you."

Emory wasn't sure what else he could add, the scent of alcohol on her breath and her sloppy attempts to seduce him somehow hadn't ruined her luster and Emory could feel the strange pull of her personal aura tugging at him like a primal power; they could've done so much together if he was just that little braver. That little less scrupulous-- right? Emory blinked against the sudden rush of desire swelling in his heart. He needed to get out.

"So how about that water?"

Gysless stared at him like he was stupid. Then she slammed the door shut.

"Guess that's a no," Emory said quietly. He could feel her pull weaken like a splash of cold water slamming into him at full force. He wasn't sure he liked it. On his way past the bar he heard someone call him a fucking idiot.

*

The alley behind Lindress's apothecary was affectionately known by many as 'Blind Alley' because it ran parallel to the main thoroughfare and stopped abruptly before the curve of her building, resulting in geography that looked like a fork with a bent prong. Emory agreed with the concept of calling it Blind Alley, even if his reasons for doing so where vastly different; the secrets of it were all in plain sight and nobody had discovered a single one of them.

It was one of those secrets he was playing with now, knotting one of the emerald carnations he'd bought into a piece of twine along the building opposite Lindress's window. He ran it up the winch for the bakery behind her place to signal his arrival.

He and Keline had spent most of their evening finishing up work orders and then another hour or so tinkering with corset designs, all the while he sat there with a raging hard on rubbing against the under side of his work table.

Visiting Glys had only made it worse...

Emory had toiled for hours with thoughts of Lindress on the back stroke of every heartbeat, and now? At the very edge of showing her all the new ways he'd thought about worshiping her? His heart was pounding and a tremble wandered through him to make his muscles weak and shaky with fear and anticipation. In that moment he felt like a virgin all over again. All the books he'd read insisted that elven men served their lovers, he'd been faithful to that after he discovered it.

He'd been restrained.

Lindress had rewarded him, too, so many times and in so many ways. The first time they'd found themselves touching each other, he had been too wrapped up what was going on to consider their differences, but she'd been such a good teacher. Such a firm hand when it was needed that he'd learned and dedicated himself to her. But tonight, he wanted to go up that plank and ravage her. The selfish monkey parts of him wanted to conquer her; hold her down, grip a hand full of her hair and growl in her ear as he thrust into her until...

He tightened his grip on the flowers. Exhaled.

"No. Bad," he whispered.

A solid half hour or more passed with him pacing out the alley while his cock throbbed painfully against his trousers and images of her voluptuous form danced in his head. Eventually the tell tale flicker of a lantern glided behind the curtains of Lindress's room, they parted briefly and the board on which various herbs grew dropped down on one side to form a ramp from the stacked empty crates. The pots had been nailed to the board ages ago when they'd started this, but even so Emory had a brief panic and moved to catch them like an idiot.

When he got up to her room, Lindress was gone, the lantern on her bed side table flickered and rolled with the gust of air from the outside. He slipped in as silently as he could and removed his shoes. Her room was narrow and long with just enough room for a plush circular bed, a couch, a dresser and the trunk at the foot of her bed. It was all undercut by a carpet that did a lot to muffle his footfalls.

Emory drew up to the mirror near the door, braced the carnations before him like a shield and raised his chin with an exhale. He could do this, all he had to do was stay calm. In the mirror's reflection he caught sight of the ancient war bow hanging on the wall- reminding him of the things she bore on her shoulders silently. What she carried would have crushed him utterly.

The knob turned.

Emory ducked into the shadow of the door as Lindress glided in. One smell of her orchid bath oil and his heart punched into his throat, his loins tightened. The sight of her flowing chestnut mane made him weak. She was in mid step as graceful as any creature the world had seen, a languid and confident stride that showed she was mistress of all she surveyed here. She glanced up at him out of the corner of her eye. Her glasses caught the light.

She turned to close the door, ignoring him. Or maybe he hadn't seen--

"You silly git," she breathed. Then she was on him.

She was gently passionate, a warm splash of water that molded him to the wall and engulfed him utterly. Her fingers raked across his back to cup his head as she stole his breath and she maneuvered to pinch his leg between her own. Her other hand braced the wall beside him as she took what she desired, her meaty thigh massaged his balls- she pulled his head back to hold his gaze while she purred in her whiskey warm voice: "Keline tells me she got you hard today."