For how long; she did not know.Liz’s next clear thought found her sprawled out on the floor of her booth. Her head was spinning, her limbs twitched and jerked uncontrollably, her thoughts were confused and disjointed, and her throat felt scratchy as though she had been screaming. Her ceiling light was on and she could hear someone pounding on her door. She sat up slowly and tried to piece together what had happened. Through a gray fog she realized her skirt was up and her tender treasures exposed. Looking down she saw Charm lying over her thigh, swollen and trembling. In a reflexive move, she awkwardly pulled her skirt over it. Through the ringing in her ears she heard voices, one loud, angry voice and one soft, anxious whisper. She looked up again and saw a hand waving frantically at her from a hole in the wall. She focused her mind on the words coming at her.“Hey! You hear me? What the fuck you doin’ in there? I want you out of here! I’m callin’ the cops!” boomed a loud, masculine. In inverse proportion to my happiness of last evening came the awkward embarrassment of the morning. Tip toeing slowly out of the room filled with Geshtiannaites with my clothing tucked under one arm and my companions following after, each one not quite able to look the other in the eyes, was made all the more agonizing by the fact that Dogmeat, my loyal canine, was seated near the front door and watched us every step of the way. Those innocent eyes became oddly censorious as they watched us reach the door, dress in silence, then step outside, into the growing warmth of the July day. I stood there, waiting for the villagers to descend upon the cultist compound with pitchforks and torches, ready to drive the lustful members from the village with a furious passion.Instead, a man walked by with a crate of beers under one arm, heading towards The Bleeding Rose. He inclined his head to Virginia. “Ma’am,” he said, before shooting a glare at me for the effrontery of being a half-orc while in.
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