It helped that he was inexperienced, and as soon as she understood that, the oddity that was Gottfried Jabara fell into place. ‘No real time for experience maybe… or being heavily under his mother’s control…’ She hadn’t pinned it down just yet. He didn’t lay a hand on her, not one finger, and that, ‘Frankly is almost insulting.’ Iris reached out with her most powerful and potent weapons, her initiated touch. Even with minimal magic, some magic required no mana, and little was more effective on a vigorous young man than a woman’s touch.

Yet he didn’t return it, instead he focused on her. “You weren’t kidding about your skill with dance.” He said and leaned back in the wide booth, his arm went behind her on the back of the long seat, but by intent or not, he hadn’t touched her. He did wear a charming smile when he praised her, and she noticed that touch or no touch, his eyes went over her as she expected of a man. “You really did know how to move out there.”

“Would the Lord desire a private show?” She asked and inched away from him just a bit, a teasing ruby smile that drew itself away from him. ‘One of the self absorbed twits downstairs might have thought this was for them. Maybe he thinks the same… none of them get it… this is for me… only for me.’ She closed her eyes when he nodded his approval, another dance had begun downstairs and the music made its way to where they were.

Iris began to move, her hips in time with her feet in time with her hands. The snapping of her fingers timed with the tapping of her feet before she began the wild spin faster and more gracefully than any of the other entertainers.

For that moment in time, the whole of the world faded away, the way she moved to music played out of sight, she forgot everything. The future tyrant, the strongest man in the world in front of her whom she was supposed to entertain. The handsy customers, even the best and last of her loved ones, forgot the collar around her neck and was, in a way, completely free. She spun so fast that when a tear slipped out it flew away as if her body had rejected it.

Everything was forgotten and everything was invisible and she was invincible.

And then it began to end.

The music slowed and halted, her body reached its limits, the exposure of her skin that enticed the wealthy to yield what seemed like fortunes… it was gone. The dress fell down again, and she curtseyed to the Lord who conquered and sacked her city.

She bowed her head as she curtseyed with a deep and reverential bend at her knees, and she then straightened up. “You’re pleased, master Gottfried?” She asked, breathing hard as her hair tumbled around her, she smiled in spite of herself.

She could see it on his face, he was flushed, uncomfortable, eager, happy, and nervous in the way only the more innocent were. This, for her, Iris’ heart pounded, it was a dangerous moment. ‘Mistress Lyrica already gave me up to him, there’s no reason to think it wouldn’t go further.’

“You are… truly gifted… I don’t know what to say… I- I have been training to fight since I was able to walk.” Gottfried said, a slight crack in his voice, and Iris blushed at the praise but answered boldly.

“I-ah-I, Lord, have learned to dance since the same age. I was always good at it. My mother encouraged it, she saw it made me happy, I have all the skill I do because she f-fought to allow me to continue it.” Iris answered.

Further conversation was aborted by a knock at the door. “Enter.” Gottfried said but he paid no real mind to the door.

Xagin poked his head in. “Closing, My Lord. Make them stay open?” The big orc asked, but Gottfried shook his head.

“No, I have another bout tomorrow against the champion of the elves. I should get some sleep.” Gottfried said studiously and stood up. He approached Iris, her heart pounded in uncertainty.

She looked up at him, despite his youth, he was considerably taller than herself, and she had to tilt her head back to look up at him when he loomed over her. “Will you cheer for me?” He asked with a crooked little smile.

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Iris narrowed her eyes, “Would you? If you were me?” She asked.

Gottfried visibly flinched, but kept his cool. “No… no I suppose not, but do you object if I come see you again.”

Iris thought that over, her gut instinct was ‘Absolutely yes.’ But she thought better of it a moment later, ‘If he pays well… my mother will be cared for and I’ll have a few days without swats and pinches and gods know what else… plus he’s been nice so far…’ She thought it over, and thought too long as he stepped away.

“Not to worry then, I suppose I don’t blame you for that. But thank you for tonight.” Gottfried said and stepped away without a gesture. As he headed to the door, Iris spoke to his back.

“If you came back… you’re better than… well, I wouldn’t mind another evening like this… master Gottfried… if I have a choice.” She answered with haste that lost some of the force she intended to put into it, and she could not look at him when she spoke.

“I’ll keep that in mind.” He said, and descended the stairs with his bodyguards.

Iris waited until she was sure they were well and truly gone, when there was almost no light visible beyond the balcony area that let someone watch the dancer with a good look down their top.

“Iris… you idiot.” She muttered and dragged her hand down her face as she headed down the stairs at last. “He could have had you… killed or worse for half of what you said and did… what in terror’s name were you thinking?!”

She was still grumbling to herself when Lyrica saw her. She put a hand over her own chest and sighed with relief, “Thanks be to the gods, Iris. I thought I’d have to retrieve a body or something when you didn’t come down!”

Iris gave a weak smile to her kindly mistress and went to approach her, she went to her knees, they were the last two present, and only a handful of glowstones behind the bar still provided light to the establishment. Lyrica held out her right hand, and Iris took it to provide a kiss to the palm, proffering her supplication.

“Forgive me, Mistress… it was… an unexpected evening. He wasn’t displeased, but… I didn’t make any noise, why did you think I was dead?”

Iris looked up at the slender blonde woman who pointed to the ledger immediately.

“Lord Gottfried left a week’s worth of your usual income here… I assumed it was to pay for the cost of healing you or buying your replacement.” Lyrica looked away from her slave, “For what it’s worth… if he hadn’t been who he was, I wouldn’t have given in. But nobody can say no to them…”

Iris shrugged it off, “I’m expensive, I know… and hard to replace.”

Lyrica shook her head, “Yes to all that… but you’re the only one of my girls who got here for the right reason… I didn’t want to see you come to a bad end when he found out what you used to be and where you came from… did he hurt you?”

Iris shook her head, “He’s not what I expected. I’ve seen him on the screen so I really was thinking I’d get worse, but he was genuinely nice to me. Not that I expect that to last.”

Lyrica nodded, “Do you want the usual done with your extra?”

“Yes, Mistress. Just send it all to the temple. Unless you need me for anything… may I rise and go to sleep? I’m very tired.” Iris asked, and Lyrica nodded.

Iris rose to her feet and went to the trap door in the corner that led to the lower levels. Little glowstones lit the way and the stairs creaked under her feet, but none gave way under her small weight.

The bottom floor was lined with stone walls wide enough for two to pass abreast, and it in turn led around a corner where numerous small rooms were lined with flimsy doors of wood without any locks. Behind a few, Iris could hear moans in a mix of masculine and feminine. Some, she was sure, were slaves who had paired off in a desperate search for pleasure. A few were likely ones who had tempted a customer to spend considerably more on a few hours' of private attention.

Iris’ room was the last on the far left, she opened the door and let it swing shut behind her. As was her habit, she slid her wardrobe over to partially block the entrance to her quarters ‘just in case’. The rooms were all identical except for what little trinkets they could afford, but Iris’ remained utterly unchanged.

Her bed had the same gray sheets and gray pillow, her mattress had the straw replaced, and the blanket was only a little thicker than her maid dancer outfit. She peeled it away and hung it in her wardrobe, then slid onto the prickly understuffed mattress. Goosebumps hit her from the mild chill and for the thousandth time she considered spending some of her tips on herself, and then dismissed it. She tugged the blanket tight over her bare skin and squeezed her eyes shut as hard as she could when she lay on her belly, the bruises and stinging red marks ached on, but exhaustion was greater than a familiar pain. ‘I wonder if he really feels bad about this?’ It was an idle question and she put it out of her head, tuned out the moans that made it through wood and stone, then promptly fell asleep.