Veena adjusts her glasses and flips a fresh page in her notebook. A line of women coil down the street like a carnival queue, full of nervous laughter, glistening anticipation, and wildly inappropriate whispered conversations.
The midday sun pours through the slats of the chief's home, bathing the porch in gold. Veena sits beside the doorway, clipboard in hand, quill poised. A cool glass of wine sweating gently beside her, untouched.
The door creaks open.
Client #17 steps out.
A half-dwarven woman with braids like tree roots, her cheeks flushed crimson and eyes glazed with a post-euphoria haze, floats down the stairs like a ghost.
"Next!" Veena calls, not missing a beat.
A pair of kitsune twins step up, wrapped in elegant robes, billowing twin-tails flapping behind them. They fan themselves rapidly, shooting a synchronized side glances toward the open door where Pip waits at the edge of a silk-covered bed, glowing like a golden statue of benevolence.
