- 10 -

If I had another layer of skin or extra lives, I would have lost them just now.

A woman in a long dress is standing on my right, leaning toward me. The startle morphs into confusion as I realize I can’t make out anything about her. It clicks after a moment: Her outfit isn’t a dress—she’s covered in a fine layer of shimmering silk. I recognize the privacy veil Bella had shown me.

“You’re right,” I reply as my shoulders relax. Not a courtesan, then. Just another guest like me. “It’s my first time here.”

“Allow me to welcome you, then.” The stranger gestures to the second chair at the table. “May I?”

It seems a little odd to be making friends in a pleasure house, but who am I to say no? It would also be rude to send her away, and I won’t make a good representative of Illustria if I can’t uphold basic values of kindness and hospitality.

“Please,” I nod.

She takes the seat, crossing her arms comfortably as she leans back.

Looking at her is an odd experience. The fabric of the veil is very thin—I can see her, yet I can’t linger on any of the details; every aspect of her is vividly real but indiscernible. It’s like seeing someone through a kaleidoscope but being unable to put the pieces together.

Just like the portals, the protective veil is some serious magic.

My new companion tilts her head to look out at the main floor below. “Anyone catch your eye yet?”

I pause, not sure how to reply. Is there etiquette for talking about courtesans in a pleasure house with fellow guests? Are we competing somehow, like suitors after a lover? No, couldn’t be—there’s no love involved in this arrangement, only lust. Still, it doesn’t seem quite right to discuss them like pastries at a bake shop.

My companion turns her detailless head back in my direction. She lifts a hand encouragingly, as if sensing my uncertainty. “Oh, don’t worry. I didn’t mean anything by it—it’s just that I’m here often. I’m happy to offer advice or a recommendation.”

“I see. Thank you.”

I’m pretty lost right now—I guess I could use some advice from someone more experienced.

“In that case,” I say as I glance around the room. As if drawn by a spell, my eyes fall on the succubus again. “Maybe… her?”

“Asmodea, hmm?” My companion nods. “Good choice, and good taste. She’s one of the most popular courtesans here. But…” She lifts a finger and leans forward. There’s an air of excitement radiating off my friend that has me leaning in too. I get a waft of something floral and luxurious, which isn’t surprising. Anyone paying the regular price to be here would have to be wealthy. “I’d be doing you a disservice if I didn’t mention that she can be intense. Succubi aren’t usually recommended for first-timers.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean that you’ll probably need to take a few days off from work or—” I can feel her gaze fall to my robes “—other duties after a lay with that one.”

Since my goal was getting through my seven nights as quickly as possible, being fucked to oblivion and being put down for the count on the first night didn’t seem like a good use of my time. It also sounded absolutely terrifying.

What kind of woman can knock you out for days from sex? That’s crazy!

I definitely wasn’t mentally or emotionally prepared for that level of fornication.

“Oh, goddess.” I press my palms together, suddenly very grateful to have crossed paths with someone so knowledgeable. I might have been in trouble if not for my new friend. “That’s good to know. Perhaps there’s someone else you might recommend? For… uh, beginners?”

“Of course!” I can’t see through the veil, but I can hear the smile in the other woman’s deep voice. She radiates confidence.

Part of me wonders if the comfort she exudes is from being a long-time customer at the pleasure house, or if that’s just who she is. She is wearing the privacy veil—for all I know, my mysterious companion might be a celebrity or some important diplomat.

Whoever she is, I find myself drawn in by her charismatic enthusiasm.

“See over there?” She extends her hand toward a booth to the side of the stage. “That’s Yasmine. She’s excellent with beginners.”

I follow her direction past the stage, to a seating area with a canopy of colorful silks. It’s slightly shadowed next to the lights on stage, and a couch blocks part of my view, but I can make out a tall woman relaxing behind a low table. She has silvery hair looped in elegant ringlets atop her head. Her stomach is bare and she’s wearing an elaborate top piece while strings of gold drip from around her neck and in her pointed ears.

“She’s very… pretty.” I swallow.

“Gorgeous. And kind, too.” My new friend leans back in her seat. “I can personally recommend her. She’s very gentle.” I hear the chime of jewelry as she swings her legs to the side. “Ah, but you’ll have to excuse me—looks like it’s time for my appointment.”

Someone crosses into my vision from behind. It’s a tall woman, striding forward with her shoulders back and head flung high. Two pert ears stand at attention in her long waves of dark hair. A half-robe adorned with red tassels hangs at her sharp hips, but from there up her gorgeously-toned body is bare.

A gnoll.

As the hyena woman grips the back of my friend’s chair and leans down, I can’t stop my eyes from chasing the long planes of her fur-covered torso to her naked breasts. When her eyes catch mine, she grins—I can see her sharp canines.

I blush and look down.

“See you around, acolyte,” my companion says as she gets up, accepting the gnoll woman’s hand. The gnoll presses it to her lips in a hungry-looking kiss. “And don’t forget to have fun.”

“Thank you—uh, you too.”

I try not to stare as they head to the stairs together.

So… Yasmine, was it?

I glance at the envelope on the table in front of me. The hue of the crimson paper is both tempting and teasing beneath the soft light of the lanterns.

With a deep breath to steel myself, I reach for the quill.

Black ink swirls in the pot. I lift the quill—then stop.

Hang on. Does she have a last name? Or a title? I want to do this right—I better check.

Definitely not stalling, I set down the quill furtively and pick up the book of courtesans on the table. The leather feels solid and reassuring in my hands as I flip through. The book is sorted into sections, with each page dedicated to a courtesan. The watercolor paintings of the women are stunning.

“Dogfolk, Dragonborn, Dwarves…” I murmur as I flip through the pages. “Ah, here. Elves.”

There are several elf courtesans employed at the Sapphic Satyr. I flip through the pages, seeing the elven woman in vermilion who had been on the lounge chair earlier, but I can’t find anyone named Yasmine.

Huh. I flip back to the start and go through the list again. Beautiful faces painted in colorful ink wink and blow kisses at me from the pages of the book. But there’s no Yasmine listed. Weird.

“Do you need help, madam?”

For the second time since I arrived, I nearly jump out of my robes. One of the serving girls, a red-feathered avian woman with kind eyes, has her hands clasped as she stands next to my table.

“Oh, uh, yes, actually. I’m looking for that woman’s page in the book?” I point down at the booth by the stage.

Below, Yasmine is sipping tea from a small cup. What seems to be another courtesan—a dwarven lady whose blonde hair is braided with flowers—says something and Yasmine laughs, lifting a hand to cover her mouth politely.

I swallow again. She really is gorgeous.

“Of course, allow me.” The serving girl flips to the middle of the book. “Yasmine’s page is right here.”

It takes me a moment to process. The picture in front of me is indeed the lovely lady I was looking at, but I only recognize her from her waist up. Where the hips of a human or elf would be shifts into the long, sinuous body of a blue snake.

“Yasmine is a lamia?” I say in surprise.

“Yes,” the serving girl replies with a smile. “Would you like help writing your invitation, or…?”

“No, I’m all set. Thank you.”

She dips into a bow and steps away.

A lamia! The nerves have swept back in full force. I’ve never even talked with one of the snake folk from down south. There aren't many up here where the winters can be so harsh. I wonder if she’s okay with the cold?

I guess I can ask her. Why not? I already told the serving girl, so I can’t really back out now…

Before I can talk myself out of it, I grab the quill and scribble a quick note, signing it with my name. I blow softly over the ink and fold it up, tucking it into the letter.

“Ready?” The serving girl asks.

“Yes.”

With a bow, the avian girl accepts my envelope. She turns and heads down the stairs to the main floor. I try not to lean over the banister as she walks straight to Yasmine.

I can’t hear their words, but I do see how Yasmine takes the envelope and opens it. She looks up, and the serving girl steps back and extends a flat hand in my direction.

What do I do!? What do I DO!? I give a little wave and a small smile that I pray isn’t as awkward as I feel. Illustria save me.

Yasmine smiles warmly. I feel my heart squeeze. I’m suddenly just as terrified that she’ll refuse as I am that she’ll accept.

I watch in complete rapture, straining over the handrail as Yasmine reaches over for a quill and, with a graceful flourish, jots something onto the paper.

The serving girl accepts it back with a bow. I have never been as nervous in my entire life as the thirty seconds it took the serving girl to come up the stairs.

“Well?” I ask, not sure what I should be hoping for. “What did she say?”

My heart is in my throat as the girl bows her head and extends her hands, my envelope resting on her palms.

“Congratulations,” she says. My hands are just a little shaky as I open the envelope. A red heart has been inked around my name at the bottom. “Yasmine has accepted your proposal. She’ll meet you in the Water Lily Room in ten minutes.”

JackiSensal

Let's go, Lex! Get 'em, girl! She's got a lovely lamia courtesan lady and an accepted invitation. It's time for things to get steamy from here. Are you ready?

As always, I invite your comments and accept your thoughts. Thanks for reading! :)