She blushes and looks at Garin through her eyelashes. “Well …” she starts. Garin smiles and places his hand on her firm bottom. She giggles a little.
“Well?” the knight asks, softly stroking her ass.
“Well, maybe …”
“Yes?” Garin tenderly squeezes the firm globe of her buttock, hoping she’ll say what he wants her to say.
“… maybe I have a place for you at home …” she blushes a little more and smiles at the knight. His hand slips a little further, pushing the fabric of her skirt between her leg.
“I would like that very much lass” Garin answers.
She nods her head, her smile even more brilliant “Me too, Sir Knight.”
Garin releases her and places his hand on her hand “When can we go there, lass?” he asks.
She smiles, “First finish your food, sir, I’ll have to stay here until most of the customers leave, which will be a few hours still.”
Garin smiles his best smile “I’ll wait patiently” he promises.
The girl walks away, swaying her young hips. Garins eyes follow her until she enters the kitchen, then he starts eating. The fare is simple but good, hot and spicy. The wine is a little watery, but still well enough. After the meal he sits back, sipping his wine, observing the customers and mostly observing the young maid. A few times she passes his table, smiling at him, to refill his wine or just walking by, but she never gives him the opportunity to touch her.
The evening passes and the customers leave. Garin watches two merchants in their attempt to hook one whore for them both. He smiles and suspects that in the end they will both pay in full. Then suddenly the girl is standing at his table, without apron.
“Shall we go, Sir Knight?” she asks, with a smile full of promises. Garin finishes his wine, drops a few coins on the table, and follows the girl.
Outside she looks at him, a little uncertain. Garin put an arm around her shoulders, “Come, girl, which way?”
“That way,” she slips her arm around Garins waist and leads him southwards.
“Lass, what’s your name?” the knight asks.
She looks at him, the soft moonlight illuminates her face, “Ilana, Sir Garin,” she answers.
It takes a few moments before Garin realises that he never gave his name, how does she know? But before he can asks her she leads him in a narrow alley and stops before a small house. “We’re here, sir.” she whispers and she pushes the door open.
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