Chapter 3 - Isis & Juno

CHAPTER III
'ISIS & JUNO'

Clytemnestra's sources, whoever they were, had been accurate. Within an hour of leaving the forest our path meets a real road. A wide, straight, flagged road on a raised dyke that shoots arrow-straight in both directions across the open farmland to vanishing point in the east. It terminates in the west in a dark smudge of city nestling amongst the foothills of the imposing, muscular mountains which had loomed over our shoulder throughout our woodland journey.

	Here and there little blurs of other traffic can be seen on the road, but far less than so broad an artery deserves. People work the fields either side of the road, growing the food the city needs to prosper.

“Think we'll make it by nightfall?” I ask, pessimistically.

“I could, you won't.”

	I've wondered before about the protocol and politics of asking her to carry me. I have no intention of actually asking, especially not when she already has a lot of weight to carry from Lecto's house, but the thought does cross my mind from time to time.

	So we walk. Clytemnestra's unshod hooves clop cheerfully along the worn flagstones and I tinker with spell elements in my mind. It's altogether a pleasant walk for perhaps an hour until another sound reaches us: gunfire. We both turn as one and shading my eyes against the sun I can make out a big wagon perhaps half a mile behind us. Little figures scamper about it and there's another gunshot.

	Immediately Clytemnestra is thundering towards the scene and I hare after her as best I can. She outpaces me easily, but even at full gallop she can load and fire that colossal gun. She fires twice and the figures, five or six I think, scatter. I guess they must have spell-shields because I cannot imagine Clytemnestra missing, even at the gallop. Desultory return fire patters back at her... And me!

	I skid to a halt, not daring to go any closer unprotected. I drop to my knee, working the lever of my rifle to chamber a round and sighting along the barrel as Clytemnestra crashes into the scattering figures, sword drawn. She hews down two before I can do more than that and the rest flee as I let fly, aiming wide despite Clytemnestra's shield. My shots have no effect save perhaps chasing the fleeing figures of a little more emphatically.

	Hands shaking I sling my rifle and trot the good distance to the wagon, where Clytemnestra waits, blood-slicked sword in hand. Two corpses, both cleaved almost in two lay haloed in blood on the road and I note academically that the sight does not affect me nearly so strongly as Lecto's body did.

	A pretty, brown-skinned woman clutches the reins of the wagon and stammers her thanks to Clytemnestra, who callously wipes her blade clean on a scrap of her foe's clothing and sheaths it.

“Think nothing of it, lady. Bandits are the enemy of all.”

“If you hadn't been there... I just don't know what I would've done!” she cries, standing on the running board and clutching at Clytemnestra's hand.

	She is in fact a startlingly pretty woman, with very fine, elfin features, deep, clear brown eyes like a gazelle and long, lustrous black hair, not only on her head, but distinctly peeking out from under her arms. Her bust is entirely flat under a cream-coloured linen blouse trimmed with lace.

“They would have robbed you of everything you carry,” Clytemnestra sniffs dismissively, “what is it you carry?”

The wagon is open-topped and filled with big barrels, at least a dozen of them.

“Spirits, exotic spirits.”

	That's torn it. Clytemnestra has mentioned, more than once, her love of a good drink and I can almost see the wheels turning in her head.

“You were lucky we were here. They would have taken every drop. Wicked women they were, maybe would have had their way with you first.”

“I really cannot thank you enough!”

“Perhaps there's some more solid way to show your appreciation... Or liquid way,” Clytemnestra smiles hopefully, “It's just a shame those bastards ran away so soon. My companion here is a sorceress, you know.”

	I nod dumbly when the woman looks at me and wonder how deep Clytemnestra can dig.

The woman looks between us for a moment and then nods, “Of course! My sister and I run an ordinary in the city, the Cross Staves. You are most welcome! Both of you!”

“You are too kind,” replies Clytemnestra as though she's not planning to drink the place dry.

“Would... would you travel with me? You are going to Pyre Silver?”

“We'd be delighted.”

	That's that. The woman invites me to sit by her on the wagon and she whips up her four oxen. She introduces herself as Isis and I introduce myself and Clytemnestra, who walks companionably alongside.

“You're really a sorceress, Mistress?” she asks, not quite looking me in the eye.

I think fast and have no choice but to allow that it is so, “I am.”

	Well, I am in a very very technical sense. I've cast three different spells in my life and own two spellbooks. It's not a lie, just a massive exaggeration.

	Isis asks why we're going to the city – to Pyre Silver – and I have to think for a moment before replying.

I settle on, “We're simple wanderers. We travel the world for its own sake.”

“That sounds nice,” she sighs.

“It has its moments.”

“Ah, but then, I couldn't do that. I've too much to leave behind, and besides, seven days' journey from Pyre Huntingbird nearly did for me, had you not been there.”

“Clytemnestra saved you, not me,” I point out truthfully. Not that I really want to disabuse her of any goodwill she might have for me, she's a most attractive woman.

“You'd have done the same if your legs were less short,” Clytemnestra lies, smiling.

	Part of me wonders how willingly she'd run into a fusillade without magical protection, but honestly, it wouldn't surprise me if she would act just the same. I unsling my rifle and start sliding fresh cartages into the tube magazine. It seems a suitably martial, 'woman of action' sort of thing to do at that moment and it has the desired effect on Isis, who looks at me with something not a hundred miles away from awe.

	It's a look she gives me again that evening when we halt a little way off the road. Clytemnestra cut some firewood before we left the forest and has been carrying it ever since. I never even thought to. She arranges it in a little pile and hands one of the stouter pieces to me. I hold it in my hand and mentally tell it that it's twenty times as hot as it was. It starts to smoulder, and within thirty seconds, is alight. I've kindled fire with a thought, just as I did last night.

	I've almost no idea how I might create fire from nothing, creating anything from nothing seems to me very very complicated, but altering a single property of something that already exists, temperature, for example, is almost too easy.

	Isis gasps when smoke appears, and leaps almost to her feet when flame overtakes the end of the stick. I wriggle it into the middle of the firewood and tell her that everything is okay. She does settle down, but keeps eyeing me warily. I've cemented my reputation in her mind as a sorceress of great power, I think. Clytemnestra seems to think it's all very funny, to judge from her broad, pretty smile.

	We reach Pyre Silver around midday. Clytemnestra has been walking lighter with her luggage on the cart and I think Isis was driving a little faster than she normally would in her excitement to get home. The road ends at the walled city's broad gates where soldiers in mail quiz us about our business. Isis tells them that we've been to Pyre Huntingbird, apparently another northern city, to buy rare spirits for her business and that satisfies them.

	We roll into the city along a wide cobbled road that leads all the way from this eastern gate to what I judge a palace in the centre of the city. Grand gabbled houses line both sides and multitudes of people bustle around us.

	Oh! The people! Women and men of all ages hurrying everywhere, else standing and talking, or shouting our laughing or kissing. Every one of them looks fit and healthy and slim and strong. Everyone has the same attractive brown skin as Isis, varying by only a few shades lighter or darker.

	All of the women are narrow-wasted, with breasts ranging from small to entirely flat. Most of them wear abbreviated tops which show off their toned tummies and, as often as not, dark trails of hair from the navel on down under their waistbands.

	I had feared that Clytemnestra might attract a lot of attention, and she does. I see no other centaur anywhere. What I had not anticipated is how much attention I attract. I've never felt so obvious, so distinct, pale and blue eyed in a city where everyone has rich dark skin and brown eyes. Clytemnestra and I could not more obviously be strangers here if we tried.

“Ah, homecoming is good for the heart” Isis smiles happily.

“I wouldn't know,” admits Clytemnestra, equally happily.

“I'm... not sure I can go home.” I mutter.

Isis shrugs, “Then take me at my word, it is. I have travelled for two weeks. Less than you maybe, but I'm ill-made for such privations. In an hour or less I shall see my sister again, there will be much joy to share. And I will not forget to tell her how you came to my aid my heroines, and her gratitude will be no less than mine.”

	In fact it proves to be more than an hour – the pedestrians are thick on the ground and once we leave the main road the streets become hazardously narrow for our unwieldy overland cart. Nevertheless, we eventually turn into a walled-off stable yard which abuts a fine brick building and an ostler appears who defers to Isis and calls her 'ma'am'.

“Welcome to my home,” she declares inviting us to go with her as more servants gather, first carrying her little luggage for her and then starting to unhitch the oxen and manhandle the barrels off the cart.

	It appears as though Isis and her sister are fairly wealthy from the number of servants they have, and the appointment of their home. The walls are handsomely papered, the carpets thick and the ceilings tall enough that, once she's ducked through the door, even Clytemnestra can stand upright without fear.

	We've barely been inside a minute when who can only be Isis' sister appears. She's so obviously not only Isis' sister, but her identical twin. She is almost indistinguishable, the same long blue-black hair, warm brown skin, pretty, elegant face, narrow waist and flat breasts. Unlike Isis, who's attired for travelling, her twin wears a revealing gown of cream coloured silk embroidered with gold flowers and slit high, showing a generous portion of tasty, toned thigh. A diamond-shaped cut-out shows off her navel and a thick treasure-trail. Just the sort of thing to make a weary traveller smile.

	Isis runs to embrace her sister warmly and for a moment they chatter greetings without a care for us as Clytemnestra and I stand awkwardly forgotten.

All of a sudden, “Juno, we have guests! They saved me from bandits yesterday.”

	I smile modestly as Isis introduces us. Clytemnestra is less modest, helpfully describing her own heroics in vivid detail as Isis tells the story. Juno really is as grateful as Isis had promised, embracing us both tightly, with real tears in her eyes. Her perfume smells bewitchingly of jasmine and spice, I cannot help but appreciate the feel of her firm body pressed hard against me through her thin silk gown.

“I promised them a reward, Juno.”

“Of course! Of course! Name it, money? Jewels? Introductions?”

“I believe a drink was mentioned?” suggests Clytemnestra.

“Anything!” cries Juno, taking Clytemnestra's hand and leading her deeper into the house while Isis and I follow.

	She leads us into a big hall full of tables perhaps a quarter of them occupied, there's a long bar along the near edge with many big, tapped barrels on stands behind it. There must be seats for two  hundred people in here. The décor is a complete change to the attractive, opulent apartment we'd just left. The walls are whitewashed and the bare floorboards are lavishly stained, all of the furniture is simple and solid and much of it equally stained, notched and knocked about. The smell of sweat, alcohol and stale smoke permeates everything. Juno looks entirely out of place in her fine dress.

	She takes a seat at the bar and I do likewise, Clytemnestra clears some stools out of her way and settles directly on the floorboards. A pretty, cheeky looking young girl with most of her ample brown bust on display hurries to serve us and Juno tells her to bring whatever we desire. Clytemnestra asks for sack, its served in a small copper cup which she drains before I can even ask if I could have some tea, please?

	Clytemnestra makes the girl bring her a cup more suited to her thirst and then I ask for tea, which comes and is quite excellent, if again, unidentifiable as any kind I know.

	Juno makes us recount 'our' fight fight with the bandits again, which Clytemnestra does, in suitably lurid terms while keeping the barmaid busy topping up her big goblet. I'm certain I'd be unconscious if I drank half what she is. Juno can't get enough of the story, and when Isis arrives a little later, dressed rather like her sister but in green and looking refreshed.

	The story is demanded once again, this time complimented by Isis' own, somewhat exaggerated recollections, which have grown to the point where she recalls my firing a hail of sorcerous bolts from my rifle and quite possibly having eyes burning with inner fire.

	If that's the way she chooses to remember things then I choose to let her. Since our stock seems good here I ask after cigarettes, but am met with blank looks. When I ask after tobacco the barmaid brings me a clay pot full of long, slim cigars. I take one and, mostly for devilment, I ignore the proffered taper and light it magically as I had the firewood. Juno is as agog as Isis had been last night as I puff experimentally, it isn't bad at all.

	Juno excuses herself and takes Isis to the other end of the bar where they chat animatedly for a while.

“Lovely girl, no?” muses Clytemnestra.

“Very. Both of them, in fact,” I'm determined not to be out-cooled.

“We were lucky those bastards wanted a bit of Isis. Very pleasant welcome to a new city this is. I think you're my good luck charm, lady.”

“Or maybe you're mine. If it weren't for you I'd still be wondering the forest, starving to death... If I was lucky...” I shiver involuntary as I recall Lecto.

“Then two halves make a whole,” she smiles, reminding my how much I like her smile, and knocks her goblet against my clay mug.

“I like the sound of that.”

“Me too. I think we'll stay here a little longer,” she takes a drink, “Possibly a lot longer... Where was I? Yes, stay here a while and then we'll have to see about lodging. I don't know about prices in this city, but I think we can cover the night, and the loot from Lecto's we can sell in the morning. Unless I miss my guess it'll see us live well for a little while.”

	That does sound nice. I'm feeling pretty good sitting here, drinking tea and smoking, and the idea of sleeping in a bed, perhaps even having a hot bath first sounds like the perfect encore.

	Isis comes back to us and asks us to join her in the apartment. She leads us back the way we came and into a beautiful sitting room with embroidered tapestries hanging on the walls, handsome soft furniture and a grand marble fireplace on one side. Juno is reclined one one of a pair of identical chaises longues and Isis takes the other, inviting us to sit too. I sit in a big leather armchair while Clytemnestra settles on the floor as she usually does.

“The ordinary can be very rowdy after dark, quite rough indeed,” says Isis, waving a hand in the direction of the drinking hall from which we've just come, “We used to employ a couple of bouncers to keep things in order. I thought we still did.”

Juno takes the thread, “The guard came and took them away a few nights ago. Seems they were supplementing their income. Hired muscle, shaking down debtors, the occasional knife in the back.”

“Nasty stuff,” adds Isis.

“So we're short two bouncers, and that's not good in this business, not in this place, and I asked myself what to do?”

“And then I come home with two brave fighters,” says Isis.

“Like the answer to my question,” Juno goes on.

Isis takes it again, “You'd have to be a fool to misbehave when you're being watched by a sorceress and a centaur.”

“Bloody idiot more like,” says Juno, candidly, “How about it? The money is good if you can keep the peace, and I'm sure you can, and room and board, you need somewhere to stay in Pyre Silver, right?”

	I glance at Clytemnestra. The idea of being a bouncer in a 'rough' place like this is supposed to be is intimidating to me, especially considering that I'm not half, not a tenth of the sorceress that the twins seem to think I am.

Clytemnestra needs little convincing, “We do indeed need somewhere to stay, and I for one can think of no better place,” she looks at me.

With a real sense of dread I agree, “Sounds ideal.”

	We hash out the details with the twins for a while, discussing money, hours, duties and such. A servant brings food and watered wine on silver trays while we talk. With lunch and our negotiations concluded satisfactorily the twins stand and so do I. They each shake my hand warmly and then Clytemnestra's.

“I think that there is only one more thing remaining,” says Clytemnestra, a familiar wild look in her eye.

	She seizes Isis in her arms and plants a long, passionate kiss right on her lips, Isis freezes for just an instant before returning it. In a moment Clytemnestra does it again, taking Juno and kissing her deeply.

	“I told you,” pants Isis, when her sister is released.

	I can only stare, shocked until Juno slinks over to me, taking my chin on one finger and teasing me into a lingering kiss of her own. I fall into the scent of her jasmine perfume, the taste of sweet wine on her lips, the feel as her sister caresses me from behind and then pulls me away to kiss her.

	Juno is taken from my arms and Isis slides into them, her body against mine, her hands running over my back, my waist, my hips. I lean into her, stroking her lithe, hard body and trailing kisses over her neck. Juno is barely two steps away, worshipping Clytemnestra's bare breasts with her lips and tongue. I take a step forward, and another, forcing Isis back until she's back to back with her sister, I feel them rubbing lasciviously against one another and against us. My hands quest around both bodies until I am cupping Juno's firm, flat breasts and kissing her sister at the same time.

	A strong hand twines through my hair and guides me to Clytemnestra's lips now. Her tongue enters my mouth and dances with my own as we share a lusty kiss across the twins' shoulders while they writhe against one another. As I suck Clytemnestra's long tongue the twins turn about one another until it's Juno in front of me and she tears me from Clytemnestra, shoving me forcefully on the chest and forcing me back until I fall sitting on the armchair.

	Juno's cream gown falls to the floor as she strides toward me a naked vision of rich dark skin and feminine curves. Her golden brown skin is almost glowing in the soft light. Her deep black delta of pubic hair is wide and thick and glistening with moisture. Her dark brown nipples are long and stiff and just asking to be kissed.

	She kneels on the chair, straddling me and I take a stiff brown nipple between my lips as she circles her hairy sex against my navel. She works her rocking hips against me for a moment and then starts to slide lower and lower still, arching her flexible spine to maintain as much contact as she can between us. I kiss her hard as her face comes level with mine, forcing my lips to hers, my tongue past her teeth, but even that does not stay her for long.

	She kisses my neck, and on down between my breasts, she bites gently at a nipple that stands proud under my thin top, she licks where her wet slit has left damp spots on my clothes. All the while she sinks lower until she kneels on the floor, her face in my lap. Her strong hands seize my skirt and pull, ridding me of it as I hang on to the chair.

	She rids me of my flooded knickers just as easily and tosses them to her sister where she lies, face down, arse up while Clytemnestra's tongue explores her most intimate places. Isis seizes the scrap of wet lace and Brings it to her face licking my juices from the garment just as her sister starts to lap the same from the source.

	Juno's talented tongue runs across my outer lips and I sigh, it traces my inner lips and I gasp. My short fingernails dig into the chair's thick leather as Juno tries to bury her face deeper into my spread sex. Isis and I both moan wildly as Juno finds my little clitty at the same time, I'm sure, as Clytemnestra finds her sister's. I wrap both hands around the back of Juno's head guiding her, holding her to my pleasure button as I lock eyes with her sister.

	Isis and I stare into one another's eyes as I ride her sister's face to ecstasy. Isis moans whorishly into my wet knickers, Clytemnestra's wonderful tongue working its magic on her cunt. My hips rock to meet the rhythm of Juno's mouth kissing my sex, drinking down my juices. She takes my clit between her soft lips making me shudder, I almost come right now but she backs off, licking my outer lips again. I match her licks with my own motion, my eyes still staring into her sister's. Isis' lewd display, the wet sounds of Clytemnestra's cunnilingus, the overpowering scent of female lust, they all hammer at my senses.

	I know Juno is listening to her sister's wild moans of passion, for only when Isis shows signs of imminent orgasm does she start to ramp up her assault on my cunny. I unconsciously squeeze her face between my thighs, clamping down as her tongue penetrates me, as she sucks on my exposed clit. I fuck myself against her hard working mouth, matching my mounting climax to Isis' and coming with her. Juno licks through my orgasm as I shudder along with her sister and collapse, slumped forward on top of her.

	Juno stands and steps over her spent, panting sister lying on the floor. I watch unbelieving as she strides before Clytemnestra, takes her by the chin and slowly, lovingly licks her own sister's juices from the centaur's mouth. Even Clytemnestra seems shocked by that, if for a moment, before she starts to kiss away my love from Juno's wet face and they share a long, licking kiss, cleaning one another of the spoils of their labour.

	I hadn't realised it, but my fingers are stroking my honeypot at Juno's perverse display. I stop, wanting more than my fingers can provide and knowing just where I can find it. Isis is still Lying on the floor sighing in pleasure, hardly surprising either. I roll her onto her back and plant myself against her toned thigh for the capital act. She needs no more encouragement to get to work. Her legs are slightly parted, moisture glistens on the dark hair around her sex. Her hips rock fluidly and so do mine as I fall into her body, tribbing myself against her thigh, she against mine. My mouth finds hers, our kiss is fast, but delicate and never ceasing.

	The taste of her lips and the smell and feel of her sweaty body beneath me drive me on. My spine undulates, my body rippling against hers, driving, rubbing thrusting my lustful wet sex against her. Her hands seize my arse, pulling me tighter to her, spreading my cheeks and magnifying her own pleasure against my thigh.

	Every wave of joy Isis pours into my tribbing cunt I pour again into hers. She's so wet, so wet. So am I. Distractedly I wonder if all women in this world are simply juicier than normal. I think so. I hope so.

	I know I will not last long, I'm too aroused, Isis' slender, toned thigh too hard – her hot, hungry mouth too arousing, her fingers too lewd. Ecstatic pleasure rolls through me with every stroke of her tongue, every bite of her nails, every twitch of my hips.  My muscles stiffen and seize on their own, my mind swims in lust. A foot away Clytemnestra is sighing in carnal satisfaction, the sound alone is so exciting to me.

	Every wonderful, erotic sensation reinforces the rest. The sounds of passion Juno wrings from Clytemnestra. The feel of Isis' hairy cunt on my flesh, and mine on hers. The smell of our lovemaking and the taste of our kiss. The sound of my heart hammering in my ears. The feel of my nipples rubbing against Isis' body. I moan desire into Isis' mouth, every muscle jerks and I come even more powerfully than I just did.

	My climax, my jerking, my flickering tongue, my ecstatic feedback triggers Isis' own plateau. No longer able to support my own weight I collapse on top of Isis, mewling softly, shuddering through one wonderful, shared aftershock after another.

	Isis gives me a gentle, but irresistible push backwards and rolls me off of her to lie panting on the floor, very much as she had a little while ago. Like her I'm not left in peace either. Clytemnestra's beautiful face looms over me, upside down and smiling wickedly. Suddenly she's leaning all the way down to kiss me. From her ragged, lusty breathing and the slick, wet sounds I know that Juno must be very busy behind her.

	It's an interesting and most delightful kiss. From where we lie, upside down to one another we may both kiss the other's lower lip, even simultaneously, which is a novel pleasure that we enjoy several times between long, luxurious explorations of one another's mouths.

	I feel Clytemnestra's already significant excitement grow all of a sudden and she holds my head tightly, crying out in ecstasy. I'm certain, by the end that her fingernails have left deep marks in my face and I rub at the sore skin as I sit up. Clearly Isis had joined her sister's efforts and that is what triggered Clytemnestra's orgasm. I can see them both there, behind her prostrate form. Each has an arm around her sister's shoulders and when they see me looking, they turn deliberately, ostentatiously to one another for a very unsisterly kiss. I can do nothing but watch in awe and lust.

	They stand, still with arms around one another, and I think, very amused at my shock.

“I think you will both fit in very well here,” one of them says – I've lost track of which is which.

“I... I hope... so?”

	Both sisters laugh, kiss each other again, probably just to tease me, and tell us  to get dressed. With that they're gone, walking, arm in arm and still naked, from the room, bottoms wiggling saucily with every step.

“Did you see that?” I ask, almost rhetorically.

“Kinky missies,” Clytemnestra has a talent for understatement, I feel, “We've fallen on our hooves here and no mistake, lady.”

I find my skirt and knickers, puling them on, “Definitely... Or at least, mostly. A bar bouncer I'm not.”

“You are now. And once the word goes 'round that you're a sorceress nobody's going to make trouble.”

“Until they realise that I know as much fighting magic as...”

“Learn,” she interrupts, cheerfully.

	Clytemnestra pours out two generous glasses of wine and hands me one, clinking hers against it.

“Drink your wine, love your woman and trust time to provide tomorrow.”

I take a sip of the sweet white wine, “You will look after me, won't you? Out there, I mean.”

“As you will me. As you already have me, in fact.”

	Presently a servant comes and takes us to the ground-floor room that has been assigned us. It's not nearly so lavish as the sisters' apartment, but better than I'd feared. Two narrow beds with straw mattresses and clean, crisp linen, one chest of draws and hanging on the wall a full-length wood framed mirror are the only furnishings. Clytemnestra points out the obvious and one of the beds is swapped for a larger straw mattress and several colourful blankets.

	We're shown around the servants quarters, which also houses some of the other ordinary staff. There's a big bathroom with four handsome wrought iron baths on clawed feet and a copper water heater in the corner. There's also a small annex abutting the ordinary's kitchen where we are supposed to dine.

	Throughout the servants quarters there is an air of faded elegance – the décor clearly was very fine once, but is now in disrepair and somewhat dusty and faded. It gives the place a rather raffish, romantic quality that has always appealed to me.

	By the time we've settled in, eaten, splashed a little water around and I've changed my travel-worn clothes for the most severe looking outfit Lecto had it's time for us to start our duties. Isis came and told us that we'd be working essentially from whenever the ordinary started filling up of an evening until the last drunk ran out of money, whenever that is. She says we may drink for cost, but had better not get drunk – which I had no intention of doing.

	So we sit at an out of the way table in the vast, busy hall. Clytemnestra is wearing her sword, but neither of us have our rifles, which would be of limited use indoors, in a bar fight.

	After some thought I have taken a five-shot revolver from the guns we found at Lecto's house. Long-barrelled with an elaborate muzzle-break and a grip which I suspect was designed for a woman. I've never shot a pistol in my life, but I feel more comfortable about using it than I would a sword, and at close range it has a fair chance of breaking through a spell shield, if not as good a chance as a blade. It's holstered on my hip on a gunbelt covered with shells in little leather loops, the weight strange, but comforting in my nervous state.

	The place is getting busier every minute. There are at least a dozen girls behind the long bar, or dashing around the floor, all of them working hard, and all of them highly attractive in abbreviated white blouses and short, tight little black skirts that show off their knickers whenever they lean over to get a glass from the other side of a table. That does not surprise me, given their employers' tastes. I wonder if all these girls had as pleasant an interview as Clytemnestra and I did.

	There must be over a hundred customers in here already, most of them rough, desperate looking people, some of them armed with swords or guns or both, though most seem not to be. I drink tea and ponder the last few weeks.

	This place, world, whatever it is is bizarre, but seems to operate consistently within itself. Almost everything here is a little better than I expect it to be. The water, the wine and the tea all taste better than I expect. It's always warm, but never oppressively so, even the rain is brief and exciting, rather than long and dreary.

	Everyone I've encountered has been physically fit and attractive. All of the women around me, and all those I've seen before are fine-featured with rich dark skin, small to flat breasts and slim, hourglass waists just like I like. I watch two such beauties share a loving kiss at a table a little ways away. No one else pays any attention, for such things seem entirely normal here.

	I'm no expert on men, but even they seem to fit the normal definitions of male comeliness and best of luck to them.

	Moreover, Clytemnestra's easy-going philosophy of letting fate provide seems in this world entirely workable. Through nothing but luck, she and I really have fallen on our feet. In fact, I'm bound to say that it was pure luck that we met, and that we survived the potential unpleasantness at Lecto's house.

	Luck that I encountered a centaur! A centaur who seems to love me, or at least, lust for me as I do her, and who shares at least two of my... My more idiosyncratic kinks. Perhaps three if I count centaurs.

	Oh, and I'm a sorceress here. Can't forget that.

	All in all, it's hard to imagine a more perfect world, which bothers me since I know not how I got here or why. I wish I could talk to Clytemnestra about it all, but I've already decided to spare us both that conversation. She's been as good as her word and not once asked about my past, and I respect that a great deal.

“You're quiet,” she says, still watching the crowd.

“Sorry, just thinking.”

“About?”

“How lucky I am, I suppose.”

“Still nervous?”

“Yes.”

“It'll pass.”

	Easy for her to say, she's bigger than anyone else in the room. I find my hand resting on the butt of my revolver and wonder when that happened. The room doesn't seem at all calm to me, it's noisy and smoky and hectic. People are drinking and gambling over dice or cards.

	The barmaids hurry around, or else sit on the laps of favoured, or more likely wealthy, customers playing with them coquettishly. Nervous as I am really wouldn't mind at all if one of them came and sat on my lap, arms around me, giggling and flirting. Probably take my mind off things very nicely.

	Presently of course, this practice gets one of them in a little more than just a tip or a pinch on the bum and she starts calling our names and trying to bat down the amorous drunkard pawing at her.

“Go on,” Clytemnestra pushes me in the direction of the scuffle and I rush over, still far from sure about the plan she'd hatched an hour earlier.

I hear the clop of hooves a fair way behind me as I square up to the drunk, and that gives me a little more courage, “Put her down,” fortunately, my voice doesn't tremble above half.

“Two for the price of one, is it?” she slurs.

“I said 'Put her down', idiot,” so far so good, “So put her down and fuck off before things get unpleasant.”

	She laughs and so do her mates sitting around the table. That stops immediately the tip of my pointing finger starts to glow. The barmaid scurries out of her very distracted grip and I'm suddenly aware that the whole room has gone silent. I desperately hope no one is about to call my bluff because a glowing finger is the apex of my magical power.

“We were just going,” one of the drunk's mates mutters, taking her by the shoulder and steering her forcefully toward the door, along with the rest of the party.

	My spell, which merely shifted the infra-red of my body heat into visible light, ends and I essay a stern glare at the room in general, which is still very quiet. Clytemnestra, who was standing ten feet behind me the whole time, and I return to our table. Customers gradually start talking again, but I see a good dozen at least leave very swiftly afterwards, glancing at me. I hope I've not lost the sisters much custom.

“Good job,” Clytemnestra offers.

	My hands are shaking from adrenalin.

“Well, it worked, but it wasn't fun.”

“I told you it would. You'd have to be a fool to stand up to a sorceress.”

“And horny drunks are renowned for their wisdom.”

“You're just determined to be a wet blanket aren't you?”

“Sorry, Clytemnestra... Stress?”

	I think Clytemnestra's about to say something, but at that moment one of the Barmaids approaches, the same one I'd just 'rescued', Niah. Niah thanks me sweetly and says that everyone feels better about having me around – apparently the last few days since the old bouncers departed have been pretty stressful. I note that Niah is only thanking me, only saying she's glad I'm here, she scarcely acknowledges Clytemnestra, which annoys me.

	Part of me wonders if I can leverage her gratitude into something more physical, but that strikes me as a cruel way to behave and I'm a bit ashamed to think it.

	The next day, I'm woken uncomfortably early, by the sound of a woman screaming in ecstasy. I suppose it's about breakfast time, really, but considering how late we worked last night that's early. I listen to the woman broadcast her orgasm, a little aroused, but mostly sleepy.

“Lucky girl,” offers Clytemnestra, devilish grin on her face.

	She's eager to avail herself of the city's bazaar and trade the stuff we took from Lecto for a nice pile of jangly coins and since I'm awake now she insists we not waste time.

	The first thing we do is find a gunsmith. Clytemnestra took ten different rifles and pistols from Lecto's house, not counting the two I'd selected for my own, and she haggles over their sale price for a good thirty minutes while I mooch around examining the pieces on display. We also buy fifty rounds apiece for my guns, two bullet moulds and enough powder and primers to reload any spent brass for a good long while.

	Clytemnestra says she has other reloading equipment herself, I'm no longer surprised. Given the volume of stuff she has pulled out of them since I've known her I strongly suspect her bags are magical and conceivably may hold almost anything.

	We sell the jewellery and other odds and sods at a pawn shop and Clytemnestra gives me a fistful of fat silver coins. She says that half of the proceeds are mine, though she doubts my ability to carry that much metal around, but thinks I should have some spending money on me.

	On an impulse, I buy a modest sized blank book, and some metal inkpens and ink, that I might start creating my own magic book. I also buy a bundle of thin cigars wrapped in waxed paper and we track down a sell-spell's shop where I have a spell shield cast on me.

	I'm very excited to observe the process, but it is not illuminating at all. The mage simply passes his hand over my prone from, I feel a now familiar tingling in my skin, and it is done. The spell is pretty expensive, but Clytemnestra and I both consider it well worth the cost.

	It's a most productive day and, to my surprise, I rather enjoy just wondering around this exciting, exotic city, holding Clytemnestra's hand. Ah, that may be it. As a rule I don't like cities, but I love holding Clytemnestra's hand.

	As before, everywhere I look I see attractive, smiling women, and in this climate, few are overdressed. Clytemnestra and I both attract attention, but I no longer feel quite so self conscious as we make our way back to the Crossed Staves for a late lunch. The ordinary only serves one meal each day, today it's lightly spiced rice and peppers and slices of pastry with a little sugar on top. We both eat heartily having skipped breakfast, and Clytemnestra asks how long we should stay here in Pyre Silver.

“We've only just arrived,” I point out.

“Certainly, we'll stay a little longer, some weeks maybe, but how long?”

“I don't know... to be honest, I was so focused on getting here, or at least, the north that I hadn't thought about anything after.”

“It's nice to have a roof and a bed, but don't put down roots, lady, you'll never see the world through a window.”

“So how long?”

She smiles and thinks a while, “Until we know where else there is to aim for next. Normally I'd say until we had a little money, but we have a lot.”

“I'll probably kick myself for saying it when I'm cold and wet and trying to sleep in a ditch, but that's a good reason not to stay in a city too long. Money tends to burn a hole in my pocket.”

“Spend your money or don't, but don't buy anything you'd not want to carry with you.”

	Easy for her to say – especially if my suspicions about her bags are correct.

“I've already collected more than I probably should, since meeting you. You remember? I had nothing but the clothes I stood up in. Now I've got, what? Guns, clothes, my slide rule, two books, no, three. Who knows what besides...”

“I told you that the world will provide if you let it.”

“And you were right.”

“You don't regret then, falling in behind a horizon chasing vagabond?”

“Hurry up and eat, vagabond.”

“You don't want to leave right now?”

“No, I want to take you to our room and show you my lack of regret.”

	I believe I may even be giving her a predatory smile, and she certainly does finish her pastry in record time. We scamper back to our room, locking the door behind us.

	Clytemnestra is beautiful! There, I said it. Sometimes, as now when I look at her I am simply stunned by her powerful, sexual perfection. Her dark, liquid-brown eyes, three feet above my own. Her cute, pointed ears and scruffy black hair, her smile, which I'll remember if I forget everything else I've ever seen. She has adorable little rings of white hair just above her hooves. They stand out against the rest of her night-black coat which slides smoothly over hard muscle.

	I love the way the shapely feminine curves of her torso merge seamlessly with the powerful chest and shoulders of her equine half. I love the way her face is framed by those firm brown breasts as I look up adoringly at her. I love the feel of her long, soft black tail as she swishes it at me when I walk admiring around her. I love too her wet, glistening black sex, enfolding a little splash of pink which I glimpse as I do so.

	I walk all the way around her, slowly, basking in her presence. I trail my fingers along her body, savouring the feel of the short, glossy hairs under my fingers, feeling her powerful body heat against my skin. It's a feeling more than sexual, more than mere lust... But then, utterly sexual, utterly lustful...

	I'm standing before her again, she's shed her top and I look up to see the smile I love, and the breasts too, all proud and naked with jutting little nipples. I wrap my arms around her womanly waist and kiss her navel, as high as I can reach. I lick inside her navel and she giggles softly, making her firm stomach move against me. Her skin tastes of salt and smells of musk, and sweat and it is powerfully, irresistibly erotic. I kiss her a little lower, just below the navel, and lick her again, and lower still, kissing and licking until I soon come to the border where black equine hair begins to grow, sparsely at first and then thicker and dense and I keep kissing and licking until I almost have vanished between her shapely, sexy forelegs.

	Clytemnestra rubs one knee against my cheek for a moment, she does it so gently for so large a woman, but I can feel the raw power she holds back. In a moment the sensation of her coat against my skin is gone and she takes a couple of steps forward, stepping either side of me until I am underneath her, almost between her hind legs. I know what she's doing. Her hominine breasts may be out of my lip's reach, but her equine nipples are not. I eagerly take one hard, dark nub in my mouth.

	I know she likes her nipples treated a little roughly so I give one a gentle pinch for her pleasure while I suck on the other for mine, my lips are tickled by the little wisps of coat around it. Her scent is so much stronger here, stronger and admixed with the dust in her coat and the unmistakable smell of a woman's love. I pull gently at her nipple, held between my lips and teeth, then a little harder until she sighs and I let go, to do it again. Now I switch to the other side, nipping playfully at her sensitive  tip until she nudges me in the bum with a fore hoof.

“”Don't get too distracted there, lady,” before I can reply she gives me a harder push, shoving me out between her hind legs and she settles gracefully to the floor, tail swishing impatiently.

	I seize her tail at the base and comb it through with my fingers, feeling the length of the actual tail within the glossy black hair and prolonging Clytemnestra's frustration. Her  vagina is winking with anticipation, glistening wet runners of juice tracing down from her enticing black folds.

	Finally satisfied with teasing her tail I lightly trace a finger up one of the lines of moisture, she shudders just at the touch. I taste my wet fingertip, then do it again, gathering more of her dew. It makes her quiver exquisitely and swish her tail.

“Eat me!” she whines longingly, leaning back and peering over her shoulder. I can see her hands mauling at her breasts, “I need you now!”

	Just the idea that so desirable a woman needs me is a wonderful feeling. The idea that she might crave my touch as much as I her body elates me and I can no longer resist giving her that which we both desire so much.

	I settle lower, letting her tail hang over my shoulder, pausing only briefly to gaze hungrily at the wet equine cunt before me, letting her feel my breath on her crinkled lips and slick inner walls. She scoots backwards and her sex is suddenly hard against my face. I'm coated in her juices from the bridge of my nose to my chin and I automatically lap at her smooth inner folds. Just for the joy of it I slurp noisily at her free flowing cunt and she squeaks excitedly at the strange sensation.

	I slow down a little, running my tongue up and down her slit several times and then licking her puffy black lips with their sparse little hairs coated in juice. I plant quick, powerful kisses all the way up both lips and a little higher still, kissing her hard and trying, unsuccessfully, to force my tongue into her tight hole.

	Clytemnestra moans softly and continues to do so as I start eating her cunt in earnest. Swift, hard licks at the base of her cunt, I can feel the hard nub of her proud clitty against my tongue and I circle it with the tip, loving every moment, craving the taste and smell of her arousal, wanting more and more. My left hand is inside my skirt, rubbing furiously at my own button through a layer of thin wet silk.

Clytemnestra pants, “Right there... Don't stop lady, right there...”

	I slide three fingers into her hot sex, deep in and then out again. Loving her clit with my lips and tongue I fuck her with my fingers, my knuckles rubbing hard against my cheek, her tail tangled in my hair, her nectar coats my whole face, flowing down my chin. Her body heat against my face is incredible, her cunt clenches tightly at my fingers. I'm rubbing myself so hard, riding my hand, I'm so close when she comes. She comes. She comes crying out and hammering on the mattress with her fist and I keep licking, sucking, drinking her juices until I reach my own peak moaning into her wonderful sex, jerking against her with little muscular misfires.

	I crawl around and flop on my back next to her , breathing as hard as she. Little droplets of her love pool and drip down my face, tickling pleasantly. I take her hand and hold it to my chest, just for the feeling of doing so.

“You are... The most wonderful, the sexiest, the most beautiful woman I have ever seen,” I tell her, contentedly.

She gives my hand a squeeze, “Then it's important that we travel together long time, that you see a lot more women.”

“Won't matter. None will come close.”

“Even if that's true, and I doubt it, there are a lot of women to see, and more than just see.”

“Like the twins?”

“Mmmm” she sighs, contentedly at the memory, “I wonder if we might play with them again. It'd be a shame to leave without another taste.”

“I wonder if they'd wet themselves for us?”

“That would be fun!” Clytemnestra giggles, “Or perhaps each other, and then let me lick them all clean!”

“Us. Let us...”

“One each or both together?”

I affect a sigh, “Ah, decisions...”

The mental image is making me hot again so I sit up then crawl back to Clytemnestra's wet rump, to have another taste of her irresistible honeypot.

“Oh!” she exclaims, “Well, if you insist.”