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Anne is relieved when the grunts, sobs, and sounds of flesh hitting flesh finally die down. She stretches out her legs, ready to relax a bit, but a few minutes later she's interrupted by the sound of the fucker getting ready to go again.
"No, Anne, this is not a good idea," she tells herself, but she's already on her feet and pushing through the opening flap of the tent.
The ugly brute is there, cock in one hand, the other tangled in the girl's long raven locks.
He turns at the intrusion and growls at her, "What the fuck do you think you're doing?"
"You've been in here an hour already. It's my turn." She shrugs out of her heavy overcoat and lets it fall stiffly to the floor. Her fingers go to the ties lacing her shirt together across her chest, pull at one, then hover there. "Well? Get the fuck out."
"Like hell I will. I'm not done yet." He shoves the whore away from him and she falls sprawling on the ground, then advances towards Anne, his now-limp dick still hanging out of his pants.
She moves her hand to rest conspicuously on top of the dagger strapped to her hip. There are at least two other weapons she could have had out in double the time if she were expecting a real fight, but this bastard was all talk. He looms over her, and she stares up at him coolly from beneath the brim of her hat. "Get. The fuck. Out." She spits out each word while ever so slowly drawing the dagger from its sheath. The man's beady little eyes stare down at her and she can almost hear his brain grinding like a capstan as he tries to work out what his options are. In the end self-preservation wins out, and he makes the right choice. Finally tucking his cock away, the huge man snatches up his shirt and storms out. She watches him go, a smirk playing around her lips.
When she turns back, Max has got up from where she'd been huddled on the floor. One eye is almost swollen shut and blood runs from a split lip, but despite this she's still beautiful. Or maybe even because of it.
Max is all business again as she pushes back her tousled hair and trails a hand down her naked breast, drawing closer to Anne. She reaches out one slim, dark hand to the laces at her chest and purrs in a voice still husky from her cries, "What can I do for m'lady?"
Anne quickly steps back, leaving the other girl looking bewildered. "No need to be shy, Max knows how to please a woman." She looks up at Anne coyly, but the effect is rather spoiled by the purple swelling around her eye, and the crusts of scabs and dried blood.
She grabs up her coat from where she'd let it fall and swings back into it, then feels around in an inner pocket. She pulls out the small tub of salve she usually uses on Jack when his smart mouth has got him into yet another fight, and tosses it towards Max.
"Use that. You won't earn Jack's money back with a face like that." There's an awkward silence. "Now do some moaning or somethin', can't have them thinkin' I'm just pissin' my time away in here."
A ghost of a smile flits across Max's battered face. "Thank you."
"But I ain't payin' you," she adds, just to make things clear. Then she settles herself down on the cushions, hoping to at least get a quick nap out of this.
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