The next day I wake up feeling more tired than when went I to bed. I must have gotten a few hours of sleep eventually, but it felt restless and interrupted. Somehow I miss sleeping outside on the ship, curled up on top of my bag.

Last night was awful. But I still have my goal, I'll excuse myself early and then find a boat out to the sunken starship. I only have 30nail left, but that should be plenty to buy a ride out. Plenty of people must be going that way, they're building a whole new town!

I'm jolted fully awake as I hear the door latching shut, sitting up I realise I must have been woken up by Gordon leaving. I look around for my things and I'm relieved to see everything is exactly where I left it. I pick up the dirty bra I'd left on top of my rucksack, the pair I'm currently wearing is still my cleanest. I decide I might as well leave this pair clean as pyjamas, just in case I don't get an opportunity to do laundry before I next sleep in a bed. I reach behind my back to undo my linen bra, only to realise it's already loose.
My breath hitches. Did he fucking touch me this morning? No way, maybe he looked last night but I don't want to believe he would touch me, we fought a sea monster together. It must have just come loose in my sleep.

I dress quickly and approach the closed front door. I hesitate at the handle, what's waiting for me out there? I can't speak Graboshen very well. Will people even understand me enough for me to get directions to the port? Gordon like many sailors can speak decent Picklish, the primary language in the south of the Crater. But on the other side of this door, Picklish is not a common language. I decide to put the mattresses away first while I wait to find my courage.
I move to fold up the mattresses only to realise the giant cum puddle is still on the floor. 
It's oozed out a bit more since last night and has started soaking into the edge of my mattress. I'm definitely not sleeping here ever again. Wait, why would he leave this here? He can't of thought I wouldn't notice. Honestly, I'm amazed I managed to forget about it for as long as I did, considering how much it smells. I guess acclimatisation and willful ignorance go a long way.
So if he didn't try to hide the cum does it mean he knows I saw him last night? Did he leave so early because he was ashamed? I check the angle of the sunlight streaming through the crack in the shutters. Ok, it might not be that early, maybe noonish. Still, I'll just put the beds away and then sneak off, the cum puddle is his problem.
Just as I finish folding the slightly soiled mattresses into their cupboard, I hear the door latch again.
Fuck he was quick. Gordon comes in holding two somethings wrapped in leaves. 
"Oh good, you're awake. I just went down the street to get us some breakfast."
I'm amazed at how casual he sounds. Doesn't he realise he just left a girl with his giant creepy cum puddle?
I'm probably worrying about it too much. I'm reminded somehow of one of my brothers. Even though he was a year and a half older he still wet the bed when I was 10. He had this habit though that after he fled the scene in embarrassment, he would come back an hour later and shamelessly pretend he hadn't noticed a problem. If you tried admonishing him he'd try to turn it around and make you feel guilty for bringing it up. It ended up being easier to just wash his mattress without saying anything.
Is that Gordon? Did he do something shameful in a moment of weakness he now regrets? It doesn't matter, I've tidied the beds, I don't want to be near him any longer than I have to."

No it's alright, I slept in a bit so I'd like to go down to the port now and try to find a ship," I tell him.

"Oh I wouldn't worry about that, there'll be ships leaving to NextMint every hour of the day. Eat your breakfast while it's hot, there's no reason to waste coin." 
Fuck, I don't like the feeling of going further into this man's debt. "Erm... How much did this cost?" I don't have enough money to be buying breakfast! If he'd asked I would have skipped.
"This breakfast? Only 35tacks. Although I admit I splurged a bit on dinner last night, but what's the point in working for months if I can't spend it on a cute girl when I get home, eh?" 
Ok, I don't get his attitude, why is he trying to flirt with me? I'm a quarter of his age, didn't he say he already has a wife? And we're still next to his giant fucking cum puddle!
Anyway, he said something I wasn't familiar with. "What's a tack?" 
He hesitates for a second. "I guess you wouldn't know. It's a Grabosh Royal Steel Tack" He rummaged through the pouch on his belt and pulls out an adorably tiny dark silver coin, maybe half the size of my pinky's fingernail. 

He hands it to me and I check the dull lustre of the metal in the light. 
"What's special about Grabosh Royal Steel?" 
Gordon steps forward and leans uncomfortably close. "You see there? There's a tiny picture of a crown stamped onto it. That's what makes it Royal Steel."
I think that sounds so dumb, so I tell him so. 
He laughs and says "The point is, Ancient Bronze Nails are too valuable these days to be convenient in cities. Thanks to deflation 1nail is worth far more than most services or common goods." He's standing up straight now, but he hasn't stepped back, meaning we're still standing close together. 
I feel some primal urge to flee knawing at the pit of my stomach, why am I still talking to this guy? Fuck the price of breakfast I need to go.
Obviously I'm overreacting, he only leaned over to show me the crown, and he hasn't taken a step back yet because he isn't thinking about it as much as I am. And the knawing in the pit of my stomach is probably just hunger... for breakfast.
He continues explaining "The Grabosh Royalty made steel tacks so that we have a smaller denomination of coin. A tack is worth more or less one one hundredth of a nail. Although if you're travelling remember only people in Grabosh and a few of the closest western islands recognise them. So your breakfast cost about a third of a Bronze Nail."
"Isn't that a lot just for breakfast?"
Why the fuck am I asking more questions?
Because I need to understand this stuff or I'll get scammed by the first merchant I meet. 
Gordon thinks for a moment, "It isn't really, with the prices in the city being what they are, the ingredients for one wrap bought in bulk might cost around 10tack, the labour another 15tack, and then 10tack so there's a profit. Eat, before it goes cold."
In for a nail, in for a palm. I take a bite from the roll of leaves, it's some kind of spiced fish's egg and cucumber mix,  rolled up in flatbread, wrapped up in some kind of spinach-like leaf. It's quite good. The leaves are a bit metallic tasting though. "A third of a nail seems a lot for breakfast."
He smiled an admittedly handsome smile. "Most people don't eat the ironbeat leaves, they're just to keep the bread together and clean."
Well how the hell would I know that? I'm learning a lot from him.
"Of course it's a lot for breakfast, at least for an oarsman and a homeless girl. But for an elderly investor, just back from a successful business trip, marmaluke excluded, who would like to enjoy the company of a charming young woman, I'd say 35tack is a bargain." His smile now sits somehow between grandfatherly pride and cocky.
You could interpret that to mean he thinks I'm a cheap whore. But it isn't fair to interpret everything he says in the worst way possible. "Investor?" I say, keeping up the momentum. 
He finally starts eating his own damn wrap. After finishing it in a few bites, he offers me his arm (which I don't take) and with his most charming smile asks "Shall we talk more outside? It's a fine day and there's a nasty stain in here." He says while giving his cum puddle the side eye.
Wait, is he actually acknowledging the cum puddle now? Are we going to talk about him masturbating at me last night? In the surprise of his acknowledgement of the stain I hardly notice him as he moves smoothly to my side, and I find myself being escorting out the door and into the street. 
With the sudden body contact, I'm reminded exactly how much larger he is than me. I am a bit shorter than the average she-goblin, and he's at least as tall as any orc I've seen.
It's also not just a little creepy how easily he grabbed me after I didn't take his arm.
I'm struck a bit by his scent too. I think his poncho thing must be perfumed slightly and there's a bit of manly musk in his sweat. I can of course still smell the faintest hint of cum from his now flaccid cock. Looking across I can practically see its outline in his pants, I'm not even looking down much, his waist is only a little below my chest height. 
Wait why the fuck am I checking out his dick!?
Isn't that normal though? I mean I can't kid myself, he's definitely interested in me and other than his age he's an attractive man by goblin standards. He's currently escorting me down the street into what seems to be an increasingly wealthy part of town. If I follow his lead I'm sure he'll end up trying to take me to bed tonight. Or I don't know, maybe instead he'll just silently wank over my sleeping form while he smells my bra or something.
Yikes, why am I still near him? 
I mean I guess because I'm not sure what else to do, I don't even know how to get back to the port. 
He's been bragging to me about something or other for a while now, and his energy is a little infectious. I don't think I could recall a single word he's said in the last hour, but the look he gives me while he talks about it has me feeling a little bewitched. And when I suddenly notice I've been staring up at his face this whole time, I realise I've probably been blushing since I checked out his cock. I glance away as I feel the blush increase, and...
Is he at half mast now? Did watching me blush like a girl in love get him going? Why am I saying I'm blushing like a girl in love? 
I realise from the heavy silence he must have asked me a question.
I mumble out a fairly neutral answer I think might maybe have been relevant to what he was talking about. I take a deep breath and focus on trying to catch up with the conversation.

To paraphrase what I picked up from context, this guy is not just some random oarsmen, in fact, it seems he mostly takes a turn on the oarsmen's bench just as an excuse to follow his commodity investments and gather information. And because he likes how toned it makes him.
Apparently, there are a lot of wealthy people who make even more money by making educated guesses on what the cost of commodities will be in the near future. Like say, buying linen and flaxseed oil from the south because there was a drought in the north that impacted the flax crop, then selling high once shortages start bringing the linen and oil prices up.
Where Gordon's strategy differs from what others are doing is the travel aspect. In the Crater Sea, the fastest reliable way to move information between landmasses is in the hold of a galley. By being on board the fastest ship he's always amongst the first to know of any new opportunities, and with luck and experience, he can use this low latency to make small high-risk trades very quickly. 
His really complex strategies began when he started finding co-investors. He never really had that much invested in any single shipment, instead, he would make bets with other people's money. When he was right and one of his clients made a lot of profit, he'd take generous commissions, when they'd lose he'd try to reimburse them and convince them to roll the dice with him again. 
And the more bets he made, the more he grew his information network, the more often he would win, and soon he was a moderately wealthy man.
He pauses his story and wanders into a very colourful clothing store. He directs a clerk to take my measurements, who then brings out a variety of goblin-sized clothes in the style popular in Grabosh.
I don't think I can afford a single sock in this store. I also don't want Gordon to buy me more so I look but refuse to choose anything. Which only encourages him as he picks out for me a blue dress and a silver sash. I admit his choice would go well with my pink skin and silver hair. I almost gasp at the price but before I can complain Gordon reveals that he'd already paid. I don't like that he's putting me further and further into debt with him.
I'm eventually persuaded to put them on. I'm taken behind a beautifully painted screen where a female attendant helps me change. The clothes aren't hard to put on, the only real trick is how the sash was secretly secured to a belt without making a visible knot. They even switched my old dress's leather belt with a beautifully woven cord. The assistant said my old dress and underwear would be cleaned and delivered back to Gordon's villa.

I then fuss about behind the screen for ten minutes, I'm embarrassed to come out with only one of my breasts covered. Gordon and the assistant try to convince me it is entirely normal in Grabosh to expose your breasts, and that I'd stick out a lot less dressed this way.
A few good reasons won't win out over a lifetime of southern modesty though, so eventually I'm allowed to wear a second sash to cover up my other tit, making two silk 'X's across the middle of my chest and back. I decide if Gordon wants to spend money on me, I might as well get a set of clothes I'll actually want to wear. 
I'm still showing way more skin than my mother would approve of, but at least I'm fully covering the important bits. And it is nice to be wearing a little less while walking around under the sun. And the smooth silk does feel pleasant on my skin. 
Ok, I really like these clothes, the dress is long, light and a little thrilly so it flows really easily, it makes me want to keep spinning on the spot. I think the dual boob sashes are also very flattering. Gordon is a creep and a lech, but he knows how to treat a girl.