Life and Times of a Priestess Ch. 21 Pt. 02

Chapter 21 : Danella On The Streets

Part 2 : Danella's Adventures On The Streets

She went out to look for a man. She was not due to be working this evening. She walked some distance around the 'red light district' of Dumis, having in mind that she might join with the local whores and find a man that way, the easiest way. She saw some women who were obviously whores standing at the roadside, but felt her intervention on their pavements would not be looked upon kindly by them.

She found a bar and attempted to enter it. The noise from inside suggested that it was very busy and mainly with men. She was however barred from entering by the burley doorkeeper.

"Sorry ma'am, but we don't allow no women in here except for the barmaids of course," he said forcefully.

Surprised, of course she remembered that Hugo's bar held a similar policy, but mostly women had been welcomed at the society places her wealthier consorts had taken her to. Was there nowhere in this cold part of the city where a woman could pick up a man. She judged that it would be pointless to chat to the doorkeeper while he was on duty and neither did his looks particularly tempt her.

She felt the desire to sample an attractive man tonight to ease her. If she found any she particularly liked the look of she would not try to charge them as a true prostitute would. She needed the sex more than she needed the money. She began to rue her decision not to introduce herself to one of the men in Hugo's bar. If the first one she would have liked to pick had not been interested in what she offered, one of the others surely would have been, but that might have caused Hugo's disfavour and she wanted to keep her room.

Annoyed with her pointless venture she made her way back towards Hugo's bar. As the evening developed the streets became deserted as working men came out of offices and workshops, making their way home to their wives and families if they had them, otherwise many went to the bars on the way home. Many of them married men whose possessive wives might be annoyed if they stayed out too long, and particularly if they drank too much. They grasped what freedom from the daily toil they had and spent it in a way designed to make them relax and to forget the day as quickly as possible.

Presently she walked along a street near her hotel. She stopped as she passed a bar and looked in through the open door, inquisitive towards the life and camaraderie which she could hear within. There were men inside. She wished she could join with them, but knowing that she was not allowed to do that, she stayed outside and waited a while. She felt no strong impulse to return to her room so soon. She might just as well wait and prolong her adventure, despite her dissatisfaction. One man came, flat capped from his work, an ordinary man. He looked strangely at her as he saw her waiting. Perhaps he thought she waited for her husband inside. Or maybe he thought she was a whore although whores seemed unknown in this particular street or neighbourhood. Whether he would approve or not of such a woman who could know? In Prancir men kept their true thoughts silent unless it was over a drink with a trusted friend.

"Hello," she said simply, surveying his handsome face. Yes, he would have done. But the man was too quick for her. He seemed unready to be welcomed in such a way by a woman in such a place, where he so little expected to find one. He nodded and uttered a 'hello', coolly in a typical Prancirian male way, noncommittal and wary. Into the bar he quickly disappeared. Other men did much the same. One was more of a business man. He wore a suit, which denoted his position as at the least a clerk, but he had the air of self confidence about him. Perhaps in his own small world he was quite important. She would have liked this man also, but he was too determined on his route to be drawn into conversation.

The next man to come out, closely followed by a friend of his, was however far more communicative. Red-faced with the drink he slurred his words a little and looked at her twice as if to focus on her. "Hello, 'ello, look what we got 'ere Jean. You waiting for your husband then you pretty thing. Pretty thing isn't she Jean."

"Yeah," acknowledged his friend, perhaps a little more reticent to admit such an impolite thought before a woman he did not know, and in a place where he least expected her. Yet he too had been drinking and the suggestion of his friend was more easily taken in such circumstances. They talked to her for a while. She asked them about their wives. Jean was unmarried. George was married to a dull wife who nagged him and did not like him drinking. She would be annoyed with him, he said. He would not go straight home.

"And what are you doing here, if you have no husband inside," asked George.

"I am just curious to see what's inside these bars you men go to," she said.

"I thought you might be a whore," he said, "if you're waiting outside here and have no one in particular to wait for." George was willing to say things she judged his friend would not have.

"Well you're right, I have no one to wait for. I have a room nearby for this night."

"You are a whore aren't you," chuckled George in his direct way. He was very like some of the soldiers she had known. He was joking, he didn't necessarily believe what he said.

"No, but if you want some company you're welcome to come back with me.....to my room," she added when they looked as if without comprehension to her. "I want someone to talk to, and be with tonight." They both seemed to draw away from her slightly as if there was a sudden barrier between them now she had admitted her wanton nature, not the lady they had first thought she was. "Both of you are welcome."

That seemed to re-establish normality for them somewhat. George felt able to speak again now that he felt he knew what she suggested. "Oh you mean you want us both to come with you, for a cuppa tea, like?" he said.

"Yes," she said, "if you will." She knew that the idea of both of them going back to her room was safe for them. If she had been a whore she would have wanted one only to return with her.

"Well I'm game if you are Jean. What do you reckon Jean? How about a little adventure?"

"Why not. I haven't got anything better to do right now," said Jean. There was a glint in his eye which told Danella he was aware of the possibility of something sexual. At the least she could tell he was already stimulated by her appearance, a little shy of a woman despite the drink. She had handled many soldiers like this. George was even less sure, but he was quite prepared to stay out for longer.

"My wife will kill me if I don't go back soon. But I don't feel like going home. What's your name then missis? I certainly won't be telling her I'm going back to a woman's house for a cup of tea or something stronger."

"Have you ever been married?" she asked Jean.

"No," the more sober man replied. He was quite quiet but his eyes told her all she needed to know. He surely felt lust towards her, and was faintly embarrassed by this meeting with a desirable woman who was still a stranger to him. She guessed he hardly had the confidence to get a woman these days, despite his slim good looks. 'Probably spends too much time working,' she thought, 'and doesn't get to meet many women.' She felt sorry for the man, but she hardly knew him. Perhaps her judgement was incorrect. Maybe he had just not warmed to this conversation yet. As he grew to trust her he might shine a bit more.

"And what do you do here, if you're not married and you're not a whore," joked George, enjoying the light-hearted banter. This woman was certainly more fun than his wife so far. Danella did not feel that she should mention that she came from the Empire of Pirion. She would play this night as another experiment. She would get to know these men, hopefully seduce them and see how they reacted to what they thought was a Prancirian, or at least Vanmarian woman taking the lead in sexual matters. She did not wish to spoil her evening by taking the risk of scaring these men. They would soon realise she was foreign, if they did not already know, but they had not mentioned it. Her grasp of the Prancirian language had improved dramatically since she had arrived in Dumis, and now she could often convincingly pretend to be Prancirian if she concentrated and tried hard, until she met an unfamiliar word or could not remember how to say something properly.

"I am only passing through Dumis," she pretended. "I come from elsewhere."

"Do you come from Alboran?" asked Jean. He at least had noticed that she was not completely Prancirian, an astute man, because she thought she had been doing well so far.

"No, but I have some relatives there," she lied, not wanting to reveal yet where she really came from. "Tell me, why will they not let women in your bars here?" she asked, hoping to draw them away from the subject of Alboran, a country about which she knew very little. What little she had heard had been bad, in her eyes. A country where even having a mistress was condemned, and even prostitutes were not free to ply their necessary 'trade'. Nonetheless Alboran had strangely kept aloof from this war with Pirion, preferring to trade with everyone instead, and to make the huge profits a trading nation could make in time of war, without the costs.

They arrived soon at Hugo's bar, but Danella took them directly to a back entrance, which she and Marie, and any other visitors they chose, could enter without them realising they were actually going into the inn. She offered them a small drink which she had placed here for this eventuality. She wanted them to relax.

"You like my breasts?" she asked, holding them up to George's astonished face.

"Oh, yes maam, of course."

"You can touch them if you like," she said huskily, in a way the soldiers had always liked. "You see I'm a good dancer aren't I."

"I can't touch you while Jean is here," whispered George, not wanting to annoy his friend, but unable to comply in front of anyone else.

"Jean won't mind, will you Jean. He can watch while you touch my breasts. Won't do any harm will it?"

"I can't lady. If it was just me and you I'd be happy to, and more, if you're offering, but not with him here."

"Jean, George won't touch me but he wants to. You will have to show him how to touch me. Jean you touch them for me. They like to be touched. That's what I really brought you here for."

"Jean came forward. There was again a glitter in his eye, stronger than before. And though he had doubtless been taught not to play games with women except in complete privacy, he was a more desperate and lonely man than George, and although he would no doubt have felt more comfortable doing this without George's presence he nonetheless steeled himself to do as the lady asked, for this was what she wanted, and it was what he wanted more than anything in this world right now. So he came forward and took her breasts in both hands, and squeezed them and fondled them gingerly.

"Oh, that's lovely Jean. My nipples Jean, stroke my nipples. Put your mouth on them and kiss them."

He did so, it did not matter that his friend was watching. George would understand, and he could not resist the temptation before him. His pleasure in the past, memories of when, from time to time, he had been lucky enough to have a girlfriend, came back to him, and reminded him of the importance of taking this opportunity while he had it.

In the years to come he would grow old and unattractive, and he might never again be lucky enough to taste the flesh of a young woman, a young and very perfectly formed woman, in the prime of her life.

He jerked and panted awkwardly as he lunged into the woman. She leaned back against the wall, her left leg raised onto the footstool to allow his firm penis access to her deeper corridors. "That's it Jean, fuck me. Fuck me," she cried. "George are you still watching." She could see him, sat goggle eyed on the bed at the scene before him.

"Why don't you pull your penis out too George, and take some of your clothes off. You can rub it if you like while you watch us. Jean won't mind. He's doing it too. Don't forget George, it's your turn next."

Jean's mouth tried to swallow her up. Soon her face was all wet with his spittle as he chewed and licked all over her face and her mouth, her neck. His lust was strong as he shuffled himself in and out of her, uncaring of George. If the truth be known he was pleased that George was watching. It made him feel more like a man than he had felt for a long time. George could go and tell everybody he knew for all he cared. Spread the word. Jean is a real man.

He groaned as he felt his excitement growing. He felt strong and proud. There was no danger that he would lose his erection here. This woman was so lovely that it would be impossible. She said she was not a whore, but she behaved like one, only she was so much better than any whore he had ever been with. She kept him excited with her wicked saucy language as he moved against her.

He felt free at this moment. There was no shame in it for him. The inevitability of his climax brought him calming comfort. He could relax and enjoy his dirty pounding of her harlot's body. She wanted it, had asked for it, and exhorted him to be dirty with her. He wanted to smother her with his lips, to explore every crevice and mound of her, but there was no stopping him now. He would not serve her in any other way than with his cock, unless it be after his climax.

Groaning he shuddered, oblivious to his friend's belated wanking and the woman's staring invitation to George. She whispered, frenzied again, "Go on Jean, give it all you've got. Fill me with your white cream. Fill my pussy with your love juice." And then he was there, slapping disjointedly in a frenzied stutter into her warm flesh. He exhaled strange noises as he wheezed and groaned, not caring that his friend watched, or that this woman was a stranger. She was groaning too, helping him to deliver his load. He slopped into her, unable and unwilling to help himself.

He felt as her slave, humiliated and an object of his own ridicule. He had bared his soul for all to see. This was the real he, slobbering and spilling deliciously into this shape of paradise who had taunted him so much. This was all he had ever asked for in life, to be able to behave sexually, to be free to be the animal that he was, and life had withheld it from him so much of the time. He felt healed again, although he knew that this woman would disappear tomorrow and life would return to its natural state of loneliness and desire.