Horns and Glamour

The beat was smooth and heady. I let it flow around me, through me, and out of me. I stepped and spun and swept low before coming up again and slapping the taut skin of my tambourine. The thump of the impact and jingle of the small metal plates fit perfectly into the medley coming from behind me.

Thall plucked a staccato of full-throated notes from his citar that wove delicately through the high notes of Renée's flute as they hung in the air.

We three made music, made beauty, and everyone sat in stunned silence. I swept my hands as I spun again, tapping the beat as I moved. The gold chains and small jewels hanging from my horns and wrists and tail would catch the light with each movement, and I knew that I looked like a glittering goddess to these people. That or a terrifying demon. In this low light my dark red hair would look almost black, and it flared out behind me as my body twisted with the song.

At this moment, I lived up to my name: Cadence. A measured beat of movement, or the flow of poetry.

The music reached a high crescendo, not fast but certainly tense and eager, until it finally came down and slid away. I stopped moving finally, head bowed, as the last few notes faded out.

There was scattered applause from the two-dozen or so patrons in the Scarred Dog. Having played for high priests and dukes, the small inn and pub was hardly what I would consider a glamorous set. Still, a girl's gotta eat, and sometimes that means playing a few nights in shitty little towns while moving between real gigs.

Renée got up from her stool to make the rounds, accepting what few tips this town could squeeze out for us while Thall settled in to play something a little more relaxed.

I set my tambourine on my stool on the small stage, and sashayed towards the bar. I knew without looking that all eyes would be following my every move. My red skin made me stand out in even the most cosmopolitan towns, and the smattering of jewellry on my fingers, neck, tail and horns only helped to increase the glamour. The piercings in my long ears, in my nose, and on the diamond-shaped tip of my tail made me seem even more exotic, and maybe a little dangerous. My appearance was carefully cultivated to draw attention, interest, lust, and even a little thrill of the unknown. It was wasted on these small towns we were stuck riding through.

I slid into a chair in a far corner of the main room. It was a perfect spot, just a bit out of the way but nestled between two lamps so I was in enough light for people to get a good look at me. And look they did.

The proprietor sauntered up, a big grin on his face. Thall, Renée, and I were staying here on what I've come to understand as the standard arrangement: we play every night, and in return our food, drink, and beds are on the house. The owner gets a nice little bump in traffic when everyone comes to see the performers, and we get paid in tips. It was a much better deal for him than for us, but the alternative was trying to convince someone to pay us to play, and then getting ripped off and overcharged by innkeepers who were not-so-keen on having "demon-touched" stinking up their little lobbies. At least this way we wouldn't be losing money.

"A fellow over there bought you a drink," the man said, beaming as he proffered a cup of wine. "And one over there, too."

"How many is that tonight, now?" I asked, accepting the smooth metal cup.

"Ah, that's five cups of wine, two beers, and a shot of the good stuff."

This was the part of the arrangement many people didn't realise: when someone asks the bartender to send a drink my way, most of the time I just take a cup of water, if anything. If a dozen guys slide a coin to their waiter to get me something nice and I only drink one or two of those drinks, the owners split the money with us at the end of the night.

Every night a handful of guys and even a woman or two will "buy me a drink", and maybe one or two will do the same for Renée. At the end of the night when the innkeeper splits the money with us, it's usually worth as much as the tips we earned that night. The patrons think they're wooing me, the owner gets paid to serve a drink he never pours, and I get some free coin at the end of the night. Win-win-win.

"Who is this drink from?" I asked, waving the cup of wine for emphasis before taking a delicate sip. The owner pointed a thumb over his shoulder at a couple of guys sitting at a table across the room, and I gave them a little nod and a wink. "Any for Renée tonight?"

"Just one, miss, but she drank it."

That figured. Renée was beautiful and all, every inch the willowy, lean, fair-skinned elf one might hope for. But she was quiet, shy, and usually perfectly happy standing behind me and letting me have all the attention. That arrangement worked well for the both of us.

No one ever buys Thall a drink, but I doubt he minded very much. Like the music he was playing now, Thall was good at staying in the background and being overlooked.

The old man hustled off to serve another table, leaving me to my drink and my thoughts. People had bought us eight drinks, minus the one in my hand. I'd have to keep that number in mind, lest the guy try and rip us off at the end of the night when it comes to splitting the profit. Lots of guys got distracted by all the glittering gems on my skin and the low cut on the front of my dress, and assumed I wasn't clever enough to keep count. That, or they just figured I'd hesitate to call them out on their bullshit for fear of getting run out of town. Again. So I had learned to keep a close eye on anyone who could rip us off.

One of the serving ladies buzzed around the room like a bee in an orchard, stopping briefly in front of me to lay down a plate I hadn't asked for. I'd already eaten supper, but the delicately sliced fruits were appetising enough that I picked at them anyway.

I was just lifting a berry to my mouth when a man sidled up to the table and sat himself beside me. He was half a head taller than me, broad both in shoulders and gut, the way that someone looks after years of real, honest work - the kind of work I did my best to avoid, whenever possible.

"Can I help you, hon?" I asked, then bit slowly into the fruit. His eyes were locked on the little berry as my teeth pierced its skin, a drop of dark juice sliding down my lip.

"Wasn't sure what kind of food you ate," he commented, chatting familiarly as if we'd known each other for ages. "Fruit seemed like a safe bet. Even a demon-blooded lady's gotta have a sweet tooth."

I paused, my fingers fork poised over a segment of orange, and raised an eyebrow. I was sure he wasn't here to discuss the eating habits of the fiend-touched, even if it was a question that had been posed to me many, many times over. The truth was that most people were right in their assumptions that we can eat many things that a human would never consider to be food, and we can draw nutrients from almost anything. Memories of a childhood spent scavenging for scraps with my brother, eating handfuls of dust and charcoal still warm from the fire, flashed through my mind.

I lifted the small piece of orange up to my lips without breaking eye contact, biting into it just as slowly as I had the berry. It was tart, out of season, but sweet compared to the phantom taste of ash in my mouth.

"It seemed a shame to leave you all by your lonesome over here," he went on. Here was a guy who liked the sound of his own voice.

His eyes lingered on the fruit in my hand, the juice on my lips, then swept up to my eyes. Most people had a hard time looking me directly in the eyes, the combination of gold colour and horizontally-slit eyes tended to make humans pretty uncomfortable. But he held my gaze with such causal confidence that I felt my tail start swaying slightly of its own accord.

"Did you send the wine over as well?" I asked, waving a hand at the tankard of overly-sweet alcohol.

"Nah, that was from some chump over there. The kind who thinks he can buy a lady for the cost of a cheap drink."

"Right," I answered, a sarcastic smile tugging at the sides of my lips. "As opposed to trying to buy a lady for the cost of a few pieces of fruit?"

He chuckled, and nodded as if to concede a point. "The fruit isn't about buying. You were up there, dancing, swaying, and I thought you might need a pick-me-up. Wouldn't want you running out of stamina."

I raised my eyebrow even higher. This was one impertinent guy. "And what do you think I need to save my stamina for?"

"Simple. You're going to finish that drink, then we're going to walk up to your room and fuck like there's no tomorrow."

I laughed then, and he laughed with me like we were sharing a joke. "Why would I want to do that?"

"Because you've been travelling with those two for a long time," he turned and gave a nod towards my two cohorts, "and I'm pretty sure neither of them is giving you what you need. And I know the limp-dick old men and young blowhards who buy you drinks aren't up to the task either."

As he spoke, he laid his hand down on my knee, then idly traced the back of a fingernail up the exposed flesh... and with the high slit on my dress, there was a lot of exposed flesh.

"The way you move," he continued, his voice dropping to barely more than a whisper, "you're full of need. Passion. Like there's a fire in you begging to come out. Begging to be fed."

I felt my heart start beating faster. I wanted to tell this guy to fuck off, but it had been a bit too long since I'd let a guy get this far. And he was right about the need, the passion.

"What's your name?" he asked, his hand slowly sliding up the outside of my thigh, towards my hip. I felt my blood heat in response.

"Cadence."

"Drink your drink, Cadence," he told me, and I did. I tipped it back in one pull, then set the empty mug down. "Why don't you lead me to your room?"

I stood smoothly, even though my legs felt like they should be shaking. I walked without hurry even as my pounding heart commanded me to move faster, faster. I passed Thall on my way to the stairs and we exchanged a look, a nod. He wasn't surprised, but then he'd been with me long enough to get used to this.

Every so often, once every few cities, I would grab a random guy or let some random fellow charm me, and repeat the same pattern. Hot sex, panting, moaning, then leaving town. I wasn't the type to stick around, but I still had needs. And tonight my needs would be met by...

"You never told me your name," I whispered as we reached one of the doors upstairs.

"Does it make a difference?"

I thought about it for a moment, then shook my head. Anonymous was fine with me. It's not like Cadence was my real name anyway, so I supposed we were on even footing.

I pushed the door open with a foot, and stepped backwards into the room while holding the guy's gaze. He was so intense it made me want to shudder. There was a small part of me that asked why I was doing this again, climbing on some stranger instead of trying to find real, true love. But I had learned to silence her long ago.

He kicked the door closed and swept forward, one hand moving behind my head and the other around my shoulders as we kissed. My hands were on his sides, gripping the thick fabric of his shirt. I pulled at it, lifting it up, and he let go of me long enough to shuck the shirt off and throw it over his shoulder. Then his lips were on mine again, his breath hot in my mouth as he walked forward, moving us step-by-step until my legs bumped into the small table in the corner of the room.

"You taste like cinnamon," he breathed, then moved his mouth from mine and onto my neck. I dragged my nails lightly down his back as his lips moved along my jaw and throat.

Both of his hands moved up to the shoulders of my dress, pulling them over my own shoulders and pulling so the dress slid and bunched around my waist, baring my breasts to the air. For all of his bluster, he was taken by surprise for a moment as he looked down at my naked chest.

Maybe he had expected me to be wearing some kind of bra under the dress, even though there was no way I could have done so without it showing. Maybe he was stunned by the plum-dark colouring of my nipples against my bright red skin. Or maybe he was just surprised to see the shining gold hoop hanging from each nipple.

"Gods above," he whispered, then his lips were on mine again as one hand settled on my hip and the other on one of my breasts.

His palms were calloused and rough against the sensitive skin of my breasts. He squeezed, not hard enough to be painful but certainly not gently, and I felt that heat spread further in me. I wanted rough, dirty, passionate. My tail swished faster, the tip cutting through the air like a knife and thumping against the leg of the table pressing into the back of my thighs.

I slid my hands down the front of his chest, muscled and hairy, down to the front of his pants. I traced the line of his growing erection through the thick fabric and he grunted in appreciation. With deft fingers I undid the laces at the front of the pants, then pulled back to make direct eye contact with him as I sunk down to my knees in front of him. His gaze was still intense, still direct, boring into my eyes as I hooked my fingers in the band of his pants and pulled everything down.

His cock sprang out, swaying inches from my face. It was still only half hard, but I planned on fixing that.

I held his eyes as I took hold of his member, and I felt it twitch in my hand as blood rushed to fill it. It grew stiffer as I slowly fondled it and he grunted again. Then I leaned forward until my plum-colored lips rested against the pink-red tip.

I turned my attention fully to the... task at hand, and placed a gentle kiss on the tip of him. I glazed up again and saw impatience and need on his face, and couldn't help but grin. I wasn't planning on keeping him waiting, I just wanted to reassert who was in control here.

Opening my mouth just a little I leaned forward, and the tip of him pushed past my lips and onto my tongue. The flavour of too-much salt hit me immediately, but I didn't have time to complain.

His hands settled on the sides of my head, grabbing both of the horns that come up and out from my temples before curling into a loop. They did make a convenient handhold. He pulled forward on my horns, jerking my head towards his crotch and forcing his cock deeper into my mouth.

I could have said I didn't like him grabbing me by the horns. I could have said I didn't like him pushing his cock into my mouth. I could have said I didn't like being treated like an object.

But that would have been a lie.

I moaned reflexively at the rough treatment, the sound muffled by the member in my mouth. Then I relaxed my throat and pushed forward, needing no more encouragement. He groaned, probably enjoying the vibrations against his cock, not to mention the feeling of his cock sliding into the back of my throat. This was not the first cock I'd sucked, nor the second, nor even the tenth. I knew what I was about.

I set about bobbing my head, sliding his cock deep into my throat. I looked up into his eyes and saw him grinning.

That was all the warning I had before he pulled vigorously on my horns, pulling my face flush against his pubes. His cock was suddenly lodged in my throat, and I couldn't breathe around it. I held on a moment, then two, before I felt my eyes start watering as my lungs begged for air. I dimly heard myself making choking noises, mostly muffled by his cock.

Then he pulled my head back all at once, and I took a deep breath. A long string of saliva connected my lips to his cock for a moment longer before I wiped my mouth off. I kneeled there panting for a second longer. My breath came fast and my heart was pumping even faster than that, but it wasn't just from the lack of air. Heat burned my lungs, but also spread in a slick line down from my core.

He grinned down at me, and I knew he could see how turned on I was. "You're fucking hot. You love that, don't you?"

I didn't answer - I didn't need to. He grabbed one of my hands and pulled, standing me up in front of him. Then he grabbed the sides of my dress and yanked down, the silky fabric sliding easily over the swell of my hips and pooling on the ground. I kicked the expensive dress aside like it was cheap burlap, and was left wearing nothing but lacy black panties. Why had I chosen something so sexy? Maybe I really had been planning on letting someone talk their way up here tonight.

He stepped forward, pressing his lips into mine and pushing me back until the edge of the table dug into the back of my thigh. One of his hands moved down, pressing between my legs. His finger snaked along the fabric, moving lower to trace the outline of my lips through the thin fabric.

"Mm," I moaned into his mouth as he pushed the fabric aside and pressed his fingers against me more forcefully.

The guy whose name I still didn't know moved his fingers insistently, pressing one against my entrance and meeting little resistance. He slid a finger into me and I moaned again. He paused for a second, as if unsure.

"Fuck, you're really fucking hot," he grunted, and I knew he didn't just mean sexy. My body was burning with lust, and for a demonspawn like me the word burning is a bit more literal. It always took guys aback for a moment when they first felt how hot my skin burned when I was turned on. Or angry. Or scared. It wasn't enough to actually burn someone, but I run way hotter than a human.

But he was not to be deterred. He pulled his finger back, then pushed his first two fingers into me as he kissed me again. I made another noise of appreciation as he mashed his lips against mine and pushed his fingers into me. He slid them in and out a few times, slicking himself with my juices.

He was not gentle, but that was good because I didn't want him to be.

I pushed his pants the rest of the way down so they dropped about his ankles, then seized his cock. It was still wet from my mouth, and I started tugging insistently on it as he curled his fingers inside of me. The motion dragged their tips along a sensitive spot inside of me, and made my knees feel watery.

He suddenly jerked his hand off of me. Before I could even blink, both of his hands were on my hips, pulling and turning. I knew exactly what he wanted, because it was what I needed right then.

I let him turn me around and bent over, bracing my hands on the table.

One of his hands stayed on my ass and pulled my panties off to the side, exposing my pussy to him. He took himself eagerly in hand with the other. When I lifted my tail into the air to give him access to me, he shuffled forward slightly, pants still around his ankles, and pressed the tip of his cock against my pelvis.

He slid it down enough to brush against my clit, then back up along my lip. He overshot and dragged the tip high enough to brush against my asshole. We had no extra lube, but I was so damn horny that if he had started pushing into my ass I probably would've let him. But then he moved his cock again, dragging it down until it lined up with my wet entrance.

He pushed forward, and I felt my lips eagerly spread around the tip of his cock. I was wet and ready, and he'd already had his fingers there. He stopped for a second with just the tip inside, maybe adjusting to the unexpected heat.

Then he thrust hard, shoving himself into me. I winced and hissed slightly at the sudden sting as my body adjusted to having his whole cock shoved inside of me. He paused again for another breath or two, which was almost enough time for me to get used to the sudden discomfort. But then he was moving again, pulling back about halfway before slamming forward again.

I couldn't help but cry out in both discomfort and pleasure as his cock drove into me a second time. I wondered if someone else would hear us, but just didn't care.