Night Op

Nadira slipped through the shadows with ease. She paused, motionless, while a city patrol passed her location. It would not do to be discovered dressed as she was – deep gray pants and shirt, a deep hood with no cloak. A cloak moved independently for several moments after the wearer stopped, not exactly sneaky.

The alarm came when she was only two streets away. Curses. Roof Patrol would be active tonight.

She needed a diversion, all she had was herself. She whipped the hood off her head. Her hair flowed like silk against the unfeminine uniform. She untied the laces at her neck and pulled at the opening, showing as much skin as she could without tearing the garment.

There wasn’t much she could do about the trousers, but the untucked shirt resembled a tunic rather than the stealthy thieves’ uniform that it was.

Disguised, she waited patiently for a reasonable mark. She would need to be convincing. She might even need to…

A fluttering motion drew her eyes upwards. Someone had strung their wash line illegally across the alley instead of in their courtyard.

She was in luck.

Nadira carried her booty to the roof and changed. She loosened the bodice that had bound her chest flat and layered it on top of the stolen shirt. The skirt was too big for her, better than too small.

She abandoned her clothes, tonight’s earnings would more than replace them.

Back at street level, Nadira felt considerably less conspicuous. For safety she still needed a companion, a reason for a late night stroll, so the patrols would completely overlook her.

She let several men pass her by, too old, too young, too sober, too… Ah, that was her mark. Young fellow, obviously drunk, not wealthy. Good. Plus he was alone, which was essential.

She stepped into the moonlight while he was still walking towards her. It was obvious the moment he saw her. He paused, weaving uncertainly on his feet.

“Hello.” He drawled.

Nadira sauntered towards him. “How about we make both of our evenings better.”

His eyes got round. Now that she was closer she could see the journeyman’s knot on his shoulder. A skilled man, that was a turn on.

“Huh?” He looked like he was regretting his inebriation.

“Do you have somewhere we could go?” Nadira trailed her finger from her neck, down the swell of her breast until she reached her décolletage. “To get to know one another?” She stepped closer, their clothes brushed together.

“Yeah.” He shook his head. “I mean, I already spent all my pay.”

Nadira pressed herself closer and ran her hands up his muscular chest. “We can have plenty of fun without any money, just lead the way.” She laced her fingers behind his neck and pulled.

He resisted momentarily, then he was kissing her. He tasted of ale and onions and man. It was pleasant. He smelled nice too.

Nadira felt his cock grow against her belly. She felt her arousal grow, working usually left her horny.

“Move along.” Nadira didn’t feel the blow, but her man grunted. “Not a good night to be in the streets.” The guardsman sounded amused.

The man didn’t let her go as he led her two streets over. His room was between a small shop and a large workroom.

“Marus.” He said once the door was closed. “My name I mean, its Marus.”

“Diera.” She used an alias, one that was relatively well known in this quarter.

He hesitated, licking his lips.

Nadira took matters into her own hands. She loosened her laces, kicked off her shoes and shrugged out of her bodice. “Very nice to meet you, Marus.”

He reached for his belt, fumbling.

Nadira untied the knot in the waistband of her skirt. The ample garment pooled at her feet and she stepped towards him.

Marus pulled his tunic over his head with jerky movements. His chest was a work of art, Nadira reached out to trace it.

She removed her own shirt and crouched, naked, to help him with his boots.

She heard his whispered exclamation and looked up. He’d managed to shove his pants past his hips. Nadira took his conveniently placed erection firmly in her hand, sniffing unobtrusively.

A drop of fluid sat invitingly at his tip. Nadira swirled it around the head of his cock with her tongue.

“Ah, I won’t last long if you keep doing that.” His voice sounded strangled.

“Touch me.” Nadira invited. “Tell me what you like.”

He guided her to the bed and proceeded to do exactly that. He was clumsy and unsure. Nadira didn’t ask, but she thought she might be his first. She had never been shy with direction.

Nadira helped herself along with a hand, showing him exactly what turned her on.

When he entered her, she guided him in, making the motion as seamless as possible. He thrust eagerly into her, panting in rhythm until he climaxed.

Nadira relished the feeling of him pressing her hips deep into his mattress. He was just what she needed tonight. She fell asleep with him, completing her alibi.

They were disturbed at daylight by yelling in the courtyard.

“The duke has been assassinated.”