Chapter #4...nothing. by: Yote   Those amazing jugs of hers seemed to invite you - almost as though they were reaching out to you. Even when she stopped bouncing, the continued to, jostling and swaying as though fighting to escape the confines of the tight shirt, evidently tailored for a girl of much smaller size. It was all you could do to tear your eyes away and continue walking.
"Try to keep your eyes on the mission, brother, and not that young woman's rack," comes a tiny voice in your ear.
Casting your eyes heavenward, you spot her familiar figure hopping across the rooftop from one chimney-stack to another with the agility of a cat. Lia was in her full nighttime attire - the figure-hugging leather clinging to her athletic curves, presenting quite a show for nobody but the pigeons. She slid down the smooth, red tiles of a roof, peering over a gutter. "What are you looking up here for, dingus? Pay attention to your surroundings."
Angrily, you tap the earring in your left ear. "Yeah, I have done this before, sis. I can find them myself - you really don't have to be looming over my shoulder."
"After the last mission you did... consider this your evaluation," comes her response. "What about that big guy over there?"
A heavy-set man in a bloodied apron trudges past. A butcher, returning home from work. "Mia, I can hardly start questioning everybody in the street! You must have something else to go on."
There is silence for a while, then, "Well, quite a few of the missing men were known nuisances - y'know, peeping Toms and the like. Maybe there's some white knight paroling the streets, defending the honor of women."
"Great, so all I need to do is look for the guy is the white plate armour," you reply facetiously.
"Why don't you make some moves on a few girls, maybe that will draw our mark out."
"A second ago you were telling me not to-! Are you serious? Do you really want me to get pulled in by the watch as a sex pest?"
"Kinda," comes the amused voice in your ear. "Okay. Fine, I'll be down in a minute."
The earring was a neat little piece of magic - allowing the two-way transmission of sound between people. There is a sound like somebody sliding down a drainpipe and landing on a dumpster, then shortly after it begins to transmit the creak of leather, the rustle of fabric, the quiet soft grunt of somebody wiggling themselves out of ass-hugging leather armour. "Ah, that feels good. That thing was wedged so far up my -"
"Sis! Can you please cover your earring while you're... rustling!"
"Oops, sorry."
What is she up to?
The streets were starting to clear a little as the evening drew on. The traders shutting down their stalls, and the homes and taverns began to fill with the everyday folk. This was the time in the evening when whoever or whatever it was that you were hunting tended to strike, usually going after middle-age men last seen having a few too many to drink at the pub before last seen stumbling off home. Maybe your sister was right - maybe this thing was targeting lecherous men while inhibitions were a little diluted with booze.
"Alright, I'm ready, grab my ass," comes the voice on the earring.
"Wh-what-"
"I'm walking right towards you. Just do something as I walk past."
Then you spot her, walking down the cobbles in your direction. She's hard to miss, dressed as she is in the garments of a bar wench - the sort of wench commonly seen at disreputable bars, whose affections are commonly negotiable. Though she is no match on the busty young woman you'd previously seen - having a much more honed, muscular physique - the waist cincing girdle does a fine job of pushing up her not-insignificant breasts. The skirt descends to just below her belt, while her boots rise to her thighs. You wonder how many daggers she has tucked in those boots, as they click-clack in your direction.  indicates the next chapter needs to be written. |
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