Teamora

Author's note: This story has a pretty long build up before it gets to the actual sex. It's more of an exploration of an erotic fantasy universe in which I've been daydreaming and scribbling. If you just want a quick fix, the sex starts a little less than halfway through.

***

"Go fetch me a whore for the evening, would you my dear? I'm coming over a bit randy. Jikk, give her some money."

Tecia Naywin beamed at her fat, balding husband, accepted a silk purse rattling with coins from his Chamberlain, and then rose from her seat. She'd been sitting on the carriage bench across from them, calmly reading a story. She put that aside when she stood. She had to double over almost to the waist inside the carriage, though, and the rough road meant she knocked her head a couple times even so. She opened the door to see scenes of the city passing by outside, then lowered herself to the step outside the door.

"We're not far from Ilson's manor, dear. You should have no trouble walking the rest of the way."

Tecia turned back slightly to acknowledge that she'd heard, then gave a small leap to carry her from the moving carriage down to the solid earth. Her husband's retinue saluted her dutifully as they trotted past.

She sighed and reached up to pat her brown hair. She tugged at the bodice of her dress to make sure the small jump hadn't left anything out of place.

In the throng of people walking on the street, Tecia stood out for a number of reasons. To begin, she was a beautiful woman. She had a curvy, hourglass figure with generous breasts like firm, ripe melons. The thin fabric of her dress barely hid her pert nipples and full, soft areola. She narrowed slightly in the middle to her waist and then, through the thin fabric of her dress, she showed the barest outline of strong, well-rounded hips and an excellent rump. There were other pretty girls on the street, but even among them Tecia still drew gazes.

Also, there was her dress. Noblewomen of Ellemal wore a very specific kind of dress. The bodice would be white or woven in House colors. The skirt could be in any color, though House colors were often chosen. But it was always hard to tell the color of the skirt, because there was an artful weave, long kept secret by the Tailors' Guild, that left them very nearly transparent but not quite so. A noblewoman's dress always showed the entire outline of her lower body, but none of the details. It always gave the impression that, if the light were just a little bit better, one could see everything. It was a false impression -- it was always just the outline and never the details no matter the lighting -- but it was an alluring one.

The priests of the Order of the Flame said the dress was good for reminding noblewomen of their place -- that however much station and rank they might have, they were still and always only a couple steps away from the night house. Tecia had been told that by her mother when she was old enough to begin wearing such dresses, and she would have told her own daughter if she were ever likely to have one.

When she first came of age, in her eighteenth summer, and she wore a lady's dress for the first time, Tecia had felt almost naked. But that was long past. It had been many years since she worried about why her dresses were the way they were. She simply wore them while she went about her life.

Now she scanned the crowd for prostitutes. None were to be found. Well, the carriage was heading toward Ilson manor -- to the east. That meant the market district would be to the west. No one built manors next door to banks and trade houses -- or night houses.

She walked west, smiling at each commoner who averted his eyes or sketched a salute. She pondered -- not for the first time -- how many of Ellemal's social conventions were built on polite fiction. Wives were best for picking prostitutes for their husbands because they had experience of what he liked in bed. Hah! She'd had about ten direct experiences with that before he got her with child. Once the child turned out to be a boy, and there was no more reason to produce an heir, it was his harem girls who got all the experience -- or hired prostitutes. The only reason she was good at the job now was eight years of observing what kinds of girls worked and which got her yelled at the morning after.

Brown hair. Large breasts. Generous, rounded hips. And plenty of fur between her legs for him to run his fingers through.

In short, her husband liked girls who looked like her. In a way, that galled -- it meant she had been chosen as a wife based only on her appeal in bed, rather than any advantages of her House or her schooling. But in other ways it was pleasant. Her husband must still find her pretty, if he found girls like her pretty. Which meant there was at least some chance -- perhaps if they ever visited a tiny village with no night house -- that she would enjoy his bed once again.

She knew she was getting close when she began to pass nude women on the streets. Common prostitutes weren't allowed clothing, the better to make sure everyone knew they were available. Blondes, brunettes, redheads -- they breezed by her, barely remembering to sketch the most casual salute. Their interest was in the males on the street, not a lone lady.

None of them, alas, were quite the kind her husband enjoyed.

She found her way to Peach Spice, a prosperous looking Night House, after about fifteen minutes of walking. Outside was a sign with a picture of a peach, but like all Night House art, it put one in mind of a woman's flower more than an actual peach. One of the prostitutes who worked there stood nude on a pedestal outside, dancing and swaying her hips, trying to entice passers-by.

Tecia walked in through the open arch; there she found the usual Night House layout. The House Mistress smiled at her from where she held court in a fairly nice chair, guarding the door to their silver room. A burly, scowling male guard stood behind her, back to the door.

To Tecia's left were silk curtains concealing the staircase to the high prostitutes' chambers. Another man stood guard beside those. Tecia knew by the weight of her purse that she'd been given enough coin to hire a high prostitute, but she wasn't about to make that mistake. Her husband enjoyed a healthy bush around a flower, and high prostitutes usually shaved.

To her right was another open arch, from which emmanated grunts, coos, giggles, moans -- the sounds of whores at work. That was where she'd find a girl fit for her husband.

The house mistress rose from her throne. She was getting on in years, and her hair was now more white than gold, but she had clearly been a beauty once. Night house mistresses were almost always former prostitutes who had outgrown the work. She smiled and curtsied, then held out a cup of tea. Tecia took it, sipped, handed it back, then smiled back at her.

"What is my lady's husband's pleasure this fine day?" the Mistress asked, after sipping from her own teacup.

First she had to endure some conversation with the house mistress about what her husband liked in girls -- all of it lies, since she could never publicly admit to his vulgar tastes. Then she had to go search among the high prostitutes -- a complete waste of time, since they were all too fancy for him, but necessary since nobles were expected to want noble prostitutes. Then she had to pretend to be about to leave, and agree to look among the common whores only as a matter of courtesy to the mistress. It was all fake, both women knew it, but none of it could be skipped.

When the preliminaries were finished, Tecia headed for the common room. The mistress offered her a large cup of tea to take in with her, and Tecia walked in to brave the common room. Even after years of doing this task, it still made her... uncomfortable. Any good noblewoman would hate a night house common room, of course.

The fact that Tecia didn't hate it was what made her uncomfortable.

The first bed she passed was occupied by a whore and her client. She tried her hardest not to look at all as the man took his sweaty, grunting pleasure.

Ladies didn't like sex. Ladies were happy once they bore a son, and could expect not to have to do it any more. Ladies most certainly did not feel warm all over when they saw a common man roughly stuffing some cheap whore; they didn't feel the first traces of dew on their flower at the powerful, musky scent of his pleasure. And no lady would ever, EVER envy a prostitute.

Tecia clenched her jaw and walked on, trying to ignore her body's reaction.

She passed bed after bed. Some were occupied by waiting prostitutes, who all smiled eagerly at her, hoping to be chosen. To be hired by a lady to come home and please her husband meant a whole night of only one client, taking her ease afterward, and all the while being paid more than she would have made staying here and servicing many men.

But all of them had something slightly off: breasts not large enough, too skinny in the hips... something.

Finally she found a likely prospect. The girl had long brown hair, well below her shoulders, and remarkably it still looked freshly washed. She must not have been very busy today. As she lounged on her bed, Tecia could could see the full thatch of soft brown hair between her legs, and the heavy way her soft, heavy breasts fell to the sides.

"May I offer you a sip of tea?" she asked the girl.

She stood up and smiled, accepting a sip from Tecia's cup. Tecia sipped as well. Facing her, Tecia discovered, was almost like facing a looking glass. This prostitute would suffice, she knew already, because the woman was a virtual mirror image of herself. Oh, there were differences -- the prostitute had higher cheekbones, her hair was longer, her eyes weren't quite the same color -- but still, the resemblance was remarkable.

It made Tecia angry. If Count Naywin wanted women who looked like this, why couldn't SHE get stuffed?

"My name is Tecia Naywin. My husband is Count Bon Naywin. He's visiting town, and asked me to find him a prostitute who could entertain him tonight."

The girl saluted her with open right hand touching her left breast, palm down. "I'm Oira, and I would love to serve your husband tonight. Thank you so much for gracing this humble public woman with your attention."

When she dropped the salute, Tecia cupped the girl's left breast and hefted slightly. Soft skin but firm, more than filling her hand, and a pleasant weight, not quite so large as her own but very nearly -- her husband would approve. She walked around behind the girl and squeezed a cheek of her rump, finding it firm and soft.

She came back to stand in front of the girl. "Do you enjoy being backstuffed?"

"Oh, it's my favorite way to service a man!"

But Tecia caught the dropped eyes and averted gaze that gave the lie away. The girl didn't like it, but she wanted the job bad enough to pretend to. That would do. It would have to. Tecia couldn't imagine any woman actually enjoying that. It was one thing she definitely didn't envy whores.

Not that she envied prostitutes! Certainly not. She didn't like sex at all. No lady did.

"I think he'll enjoy having you in his bed tonight. Will two silver be enough?"

"Milady, I could pleasure almost a hundred men between now and dawn if I stayed here. I think ten silver is a fairer price."

"Don't be ridiculous, girl. You won't be that busy. And not all of them will be paying the back rate. My husband would confine me to my chambers if he found out I'd paid you any more than four silver."

Tecia guessed, from the weight of the purse, that she would easily be able to pay the girl ten silver pieces. Her husband would certainly never know or care what she paid. But the forms. Always the forms.

Oira protested, "But the Festival of Trade is about to begin! Travelers will be in town from the entire Kingdom of Ellemal! If not a hundred, I will surely have much more custom than normal tonight. If I come for less than eight silver I'm robbing myself."

"And you would work much harder than you will in my husband's bed tonight, I assure you. Six silver is much more than you would make tonight, and we both know it. And you will make it by servicing one man two or three times, rather than fifty of them."

Oira tried to look glum, but failed. She knew she had just made much more money than she otherwise would have. She also knew she could look forward to a single man, silk sheets, a heated bath, airy breezes from open windows in a room two or three stories above street level -- she practically glowed with anticipation.

Tecia dug in the purse, handed the prostitute six silver coins, and then offered her hand. The girl took it. Holding hands told any other customers that this girl was already spoken for. Together, they walked out of the common room.

The House Mistress smiled when they came out. Tecia offered some expected remarks about how such a fine, noble girl should surely be a high prostitute, the mistress made non-committal noises that might have passed for agreement, and Oira handed the silver to the mistress. Tecia knew, from long experience hiring such girls, that the House would take a cut -- unless Oira had already paid her full rent for the day, but that was unlikely -- and put the rest in Oira's box in the silver room.

Nobody ever stole from a prostitute. It was a funny business. Their clients treated them... well, treated them like whores. They were belittled, mocked, used in the most degrading fashions then cast aside like dirty rags, not allowed to wear clothes...

And yet Oira was richer than Tecia. Tecia would never have any money of her own. Tecia couldn't have any property of her own. Tecia couldn't even make decisions of her own.

Oira could have said yes or no to Tecia's offer, based only on what she wanted. Oira could have gotten up and walked out of the Night House to seek better custom elsewhere, and when she told the house mistress she was leaving, her box in the silver room would be turned over to her without question. Oira could look for a place where no randy men would notice her, and choose not to have sex at all if she wanted -- if she could find such a hiding place. Oira had something very close to freedom, except for the requirement that she spread her legs on the spot for any man who offered her the law's price.

As they walked hand in hand down the street -- the naked prostitute and the noblewoman in her delicate, revealing dress -- Tecia pondered which of them truly outranked the other.

When they found the manor, the guards were expecting them. But the reception was a bit more brusque than Tecia expected.

One guard -- clad in a cuirass painted purple for Ilson's colors and tight pants and kilt of matching shade -- told Tecia, "The ladies are gathered in the evening room for tea. It's down the main hall to the very end. I'll take the plaything to Count Naywin's rooms."

Tecia blinked. The guard should have offered to escort her to her husband's rooms, taken her and Oira there, and only once they were settled offered to escort her to the evening room. She might have expressed anger at the guard -- might have slapped him even. But she didn't know the situation. It might be that Ilson trained his people very poorly, in which case she'd be right to discipline him. But it might also be that Ilson was angry and the guards were acting as he wanted. If so, any stepping out of line from her would earn her discipline from her own husband.

She watched Oira be led away, down a corridor that opened to the left off the main hall. Then she walked alone down to the end.

No servant stood at the door to the evening room to open it for her. Growing more and more curious at the rudeness, she opened it herself and went in.

Over the ensuing hours, Tecia discovered what she should have predicted from the beginning: the rudeness was her husband's fault. He should have known that Ilson would offer the pick of his harem. It was part of being the host, part of hospitality. But instead short-sighted, randy Bon Naywin had sent her out to hire a public woman, thereby implicitly rejecting Ilson's hospitality before he had offered it. The deep lapse in manners had set Count Naywin -- and by extension his wife -- on low social footing for the entire festival.

Afternoon tea had become a trial of subtle humiliation for Tecia, and the evening meal not much better.

When, finally, a servant showed her to her rooms, she could barely remain on her feet long enough for one of the Ilson handmaidens to undress her and robe her in a nightdress before she collapsed onto the bed.

It was beautiful, soft, silken, and huge. In every way it let the guest know of House Ilson's wealth. But she was on the second floor, not on the fifth with the other ladies. She sighed. The day had turned out to be a nightmare.

She looked out the window, which was open for the summer breeze. Her window was right next to a tree, obstructing any view she might have had of the city. Clearly, she'd been given the worst guest rooms.

When she looked closer, she realized that the branch outside was quite thick, and it went back to a tree that... goodness! The tree grew outside the house wall. Why, any prowler from the street could climb up here! Giving her the worst guest room was expected, but having a room that was accessible to criminals? That was a faux pas on the part of House Ilson, and might lead the way to raising her standing by lowering Ilson's.

Would she even be able to sleep, knowing that riffraff could easily get in or out?

She gasped. In OR out. One could get out via that tree.

The thought growing in her mind was the most scandalous one she had ever had. Go somewhere without her husband's permission?

It was ridiculous, of course. The law was quite clear. She was not allowed, but that was only the beginning. A woman alone on the streets at night... no man would be faulted for assuming she was a prostitute. If she climbed out on that tree, why the lowest commoner on the street could simply hand her a couple copper coins and...

Would that be so bad?

She was so shocked by that quiet little voice in her head that she squealed aloud. She pulled a pillow over her head, ashamed to show her face even in an empty room. She'd always known that her body had wrong lusts, but she had NEVER imagined such a thing before. To actually DO what prostitutes do?

Her mental debate lasted some time before she finally decided to do it. Sne ended up drinking the entire pitcher of water the servants had left in her room, trying to sooth a mouth dry with fear. But finally, she stripped naked -- that was, after all, how prostitutes dressed, and prostitutes were the only women one would find out alone at night -- and wormed her way out the window to sit on the ledge, with her feet on the tree branch.

If anyone ever found out, her husband would probably abandon her and give guardianship of her to the King, making her a public woman.

The night was colder than she expected, and she shivered. She thought of going back for some warmer clothes before she realized how ridiculous that was. She was naked, and she had to be naked for this to work.

She peered around. No one was in sight, none of the other windows in Ilson manor had light showing through them. Everyone was asleep. No one would know.

She climbed out to put her full weight on the branch. It swayed dangerously, and she swayed with it. Before she could fall, though, she reached out to put her hands on the wall of the manor, steadying herself. Then she found another branch, above the one she stood on, that she could grab for support. Holding it, she carefully moved her feet along the lower branch, suspended in mid air over the grass between the manor and the wall, until she was over the wall. She got scratched slightly by twigs when she reached the tree, but it was at least stable. Then she shimmied down the trunk.