13th of Ashan, 716It was quite the spectacle, what Qaerris had to do to keep his affairs with the widow, Evelyn Andaris, discrete. It had taken some time to convince the woman that his services would remain a secret, but once it had been established and a proper course of action was taken, it was simple enough for the harlot to find his stride in keeping the silence. First, the harlot was to shed his ordinary clothing, the rags of a servant donned as he navigated the property. Qaerris, each time, needed to avoid being seen by even other servants, the harlot taking advantage of the long shadows of the night as he raced through the property's garden. He'd twist his body and press himself to the wall of the property, finding with his fingertips a rope that the Lady of the house threw down to allow him access.
Gripping the rope tightly with each hand, Qaerris situated his feet against the wall, gripping tightly and adjusting said grip every few steps. Luckily he need only travel one floor, slipping into the open window and at last infiltrating the house. He threw himself inside with a sort of cat roll, though he was by no means acrobatic enough for it to be a smooth affair. Stumbling to the ground, the Mortalborn brushed the dirt from his shoulders, taking a right turn into the next hallway. He'd find his 'mistress' (for it was what she was once he entered the place) staring at her reflection in the mirror as he cracked the door. Taking a moment to admire the woman from afar, at last he made his presence known.
Qaerris did not cough or make his entrance so crass, instead allowing each footstep closer to the woman to be heard, an approach he treated rather carefully. Evelyn was a woman who did not much like to be distracted from what she was doing. The Mortalborn did not seek to, as a result, attract her attention. In any case, he need not distract anyone from anything at all. Once Qaerris' reflection set alongside Evelyn's, she knew he was here. He could see her gaze shift in her reflection, teeth clutching at the flesh of her lip as a hand moved to lightly sift through the woman's own hair. Qaerris watched the lady's actions, letting the charade of a grin cast upon his features. This was an orchestrated event, what Qaerris was asked by his lady to do each time he came to her.
Each time, she asks for the same charade? Does it need to be the same forever?
A breath pulled from the Mortalborn's lungs, taken from him in exhale before oxygen flooded his lungs once more. His body pressed onto the bed, his eyes closed as he let himself become comfortable. It was while the man's eyes were closed that he heard the shuffle of movement. His lady had taken flight... though where would she go? At times, when she was feeling aggressive, she would straddle him, intent on taking what she wanted from him. But this night seemed to not be the case. She was slower, her body falling beside his own. An arm hooked around the Mortalborn's waist as he felt Evelyn's body at last fall upon his own, the woman's breasts felt against his abdomen.
Lips pressed to Qaerris' cheek, and the harlot thought it best for him to at last 'wake' and face the woman who paid him to be with her. As the woman's chocolate brown eyes met his like-toned gaze, the harlot did not speak to his Lady, instead raising a hand to sift fingers through her hair. Lips moved to lay claim to the woman's own, a moan escaping from Evelyn's lips as the Mortalborn furthered the kiss, tongues entwining until at last he pulled away. For a time, without speaking, Qaerris and Evelyn had their conversation, the harlot taking messages from the woman's body, subtle pushes in a certain direction as hands heeded the silent commands. Qaerris found himself ridding the Andaris woman of her clothing, leaving her bared before him as slowly, she did the same to him.
When there was nothing at all separating Qaerris from his client, his job was at last to begin in earnest. Hands moved first to investigate each curve of the woman's form, moans leaving both his own and the lady's lips freely, tongues finding place on flesh. Teeth sunk into the harlot's flesh, a tongue trailing along the expanse of his collarbone, slowly lowering until no longer were the Andaris woman and the harlot tangled together. Kisses trailed along his chest, lowering further. A low groan parted the Mortalborn's lips, fingers gripping at bed sheets as the night progressed.