Magic Series: The Witch

The life of a pub has always enthralled me. 

Dimmed lanterns of warm gold coating the thick walls and tipsy patrons in a faint glow. An ever present hue of warmth that paired well with solicitous ambience and over-filling meals. The joy that would be gleefully roared between swigs of mead, vixens dancing happily as money was thrown towards their barely covered bosoms and the occasional brawl breaking out in between dance breaks and liquor rounds. 

I’ve always been jealous of those women. 

Living a life filled with pleasure and mild riches. I would enjoy having a man, hopefully a skilled man, desperate for a taste of me. Not having a care in the world other than filling my pouch with coins and jewels. 

Most would call it a selfish lifestyle; to only entertain the company of man for the sole purpose of being pleasured and reel in pouches upon pouches of money.

I would agree with what most call it. 

Of course there would be risks.

Dealing with those that aren’t skilled in the art of sex as well as vetting those that already promised to another. I have no desire to break up either a happy or unhappy home. I also have no desire to bed an unskilled patron. The risks of pregnancy and diseases will always be present, but can always be fixed with a spell or two.   

If they weren’t roaming the streets, the vixens occupied the many pubs and taverns that littered the village. Most favored a particular tavern called Flutther’s Pub. The influx of wealthy men that poured into the tavern nightly was enough to keep a slew of them occupied. From the humblest of knights to the meanest of soldiers, all were the same as the insignia of our kingdom edged onto their sleeves. From the modest lords to the nastiest nobles, a treasure heirloom or fancy gold littering some part of their body. 

The occasional stranger would wander through. A visiting lord from another village or a guest of the king would be a favored attraction. The rumor would have spread long before they’ve reached here. Most vixens would pull out their favorite dresses. Snug corsets pulling tighter and prettiest pairs of heels adoring their feet.   

The men that occupied this pub were mostly workers. Rugged farmers and the occasional knight would fill the stools, hungered for a greasy meal and eager to rant about their day. A pint clutched in their hold as they chug their liquor, words slurring to an intangible mumble as they gossiped about their failing crops or grueling training. 

Watching a group of men gossip is always an interesting pastime. As they talked over a pint of mead, some laughing while others sobbed, I would soak in everything.      

I stared as a pair of rather busty women danced for a crowd of men. The male's gaze eagerly traveled from their jiggling busts to their wandering hands that fritted from their glossy, mushed locks to their tiny waist. A sultry smile, painted in a permanent red hue, spread wider as another wave of coins was tossed towards them.

The dedication to keep dancing as they continued to be pelted is amazing. 

A patience I’m sure I would learn to bare if I ever decide to live a life like that.    

Ruzette sat in her seat, body twisted around to observe the alluring sway. As one of the vixens slowly lowered herself to the tavern's floor, hips twisting and bopping to the dull thud of the men stomps, she plucked a coin from the floor. A seductive shimmy forward, dropping the coin between her jiggling breast, the vixen slowly sprung back up.

“Do that again!” A man demanded. 

“Such big talk from a man with no money.” The vixen huffed, “I only listen to the demands of a wealthy man.”

As the scorned man's face burned a sweltering red, the men around him roared with laughter. Their beer sloshed onto the wooden floor and tables, the bartender swearing loudly as puddles of sticky residue formed on the polished planks.  

“You heard the whore, Gail.” Another man snarked. He sauntered over to Gail’s table, plopping down a small pouch. It clunked against the table, barely bulging with coins as the man confidently plopped down on a stool. “How about you do it for me then?”