HUNTER'S TALE

2.

Mary wanted to get back to Ireland. Desperate act of her stealing money from a man was something new to her. She wasn't that type of a woman. And it seemed to her, like she was punished for what she's done. The moment she got to New Orleans a group of hooligans robbed her. Stole her everything and left her crying in the middle of the street. Street, that got tragical to her. For her beautiful face got noticed by a man with sly wicked glance. The one, who offered young woman a hand to help and threw her into a lair of sin. The brothel. The French quarter wasn't an easy place to be or survive. If you didn't have a boss or a master you were no one. And the masters,well, something worse than tyrants. On their small little empires, each one of them gave their employees or little slaves really hard times. Mary stayed captived like a small bird in a cage, she was kept as a whore to by that awful man named Luis Martin or as they knew him on the streets the skin peeler. Everyone feared him and Mary didn't have anywhere to go anymore. It was one night, when the hunter, she left long ago, after she stole his money in the woods, visited New Orleans. Of course he would go to the French quarter, where the finest brothels were in and being a man, who lived in North hunting with other men for at least four months, the first thing he needed, heading home, was a fine drink and a fine pussy as he said. So he walked into the brothel and ordered a bottle of brandy for himself. Before midnight he was wasted and looked around on the girls coming and going, trying to pick who would fit better for the night as anyone else in there. Until his eyes fell on someone, who's face hadn't been forgotten since the day he laid an eye on. "Fuck me..." he murmured surprised. The girl from the woods was standing across the bar not smiling, not luring anyone, just standing there, waiting for someone to come for her. Standing up with a groan he stomped to her and halted his steps right before. "Well, well, look who's here!" He almost smirked at the irony.

"Ah..." Mary opened her eyes wide and let out scared and shocked gasp. Her hand fell on bar to support herself and her voice broke. It's been years. Years of her living in hell. And it seemed like it was neverending.

"What? Can't fuckin' talk now?" He furrowed brows and gave a long look at her. "Ya forgot me so quickly?"

"No," she lowered her eyes with a quiet voice. She shook her head and felt her eyes watering.

"No? I helped ya and ya stole my god damn money, that's what happened, yeah." He nodded with a long grunt. But he was drunk and surely her appearance and deep cleavage were helping too, when he ran slowly his fingers from her collarbone right between the counters of her breasts.

She squeezed her eyes shut and clenched her fists. Swallowing hard, she looked up at him. Pleading drunk man with eyes to leave her be. But Mary was like a light and men were like moles. "I'm sorry," she whispered.

"I forgive ya." He grinned and took down his hand. When she tried to move, he gently hold her hand and hold her on place. He didn't say anything, just leaned on her neck, taking in her intoxicating essence. His breath warm on the skin of her neck. She was covered in goosebumps, which he wasn't sure, if it was from repulsiveness or excitement. His lips on her skin her breasts rising and falling heavily, until he placed a gentle kiss on her nape. "There's always a way to repay."

A tear left her eye and fell down on her cheek. "Of course," she nodded subtly and opened her eyes. How she wanted to run away, to slap him and vanish. How she wished to be dead. But two piercing eyes, that watched her from across the room, didn't even allow her to frown or hesitate. Martin was checking on his slaves as a dog. "Come with me."

The hunter followed her steps leading upstairs. Crossing on their way many whores with their clients coming and going from the rooms. She walked towards the end of the corridor and opened the door and they entered her room. Nothing special but definitely better than any other hostel he slept in. "Not bad," he murmured and his eyes fell on her again. "What's ya name, sweet cheeks?"