Author:	Xandarc
Date/Time:	1/28/2003 1:26:20 AM
Subject:	The Ladies OF The Lair Is Open
The Ladies of the Lair Francis was an odd sort of young man -- always was. Since he was a boy, he had been sweeping the floors of the Ladies of the Lair in Felucca. But for the past couple of years, he has been doing it without the small amount of pay he would receive for his efforts. The Ladies has been closed, with no one to tend it... and still he swept, and polished, and scrubbed and varnished the wood as he had done since he could remember walking. Still, his parents thought, tis better than having idle hands. "Boys with idle hands become pickpockets," they reminded each other, and so they allowed the boy to continue his work in the abandoned building when he wasn't having music lessons, and would praise his efforts for "preserving a piece of city history." They even asked city officials to say the occasional kind word to their son, in appreciation for his efforts and to raise his positive feelings for work that is appreciated. And he grew wiry and tough doing his toil, for it is hard, even when the Ladies of the Lair is empty. And one day, he noticed some people gathered outside in a large group. They were people he had never seen before. He was afraid to say hi, for they seemed fierce and boisterous. He quietly focused on his chores. When he told his parents of it that night, they warned him to sneak quietly into the Ladies of the Lair the next day, and to do his work behind locked doors. "Stay away from strangers, son." And so he did, but he kept peeking out the tavern's windows longing to learn about these new people. And day after day went by like this, for weeks on end. One day, Francis arrived at the Lair and dutifully locked the door behind him. He started sweeping quietly, as was now his custom. "Ye should relax, manling," whispered a satin voice behind his ear, and warm hands rested on his shoulders. Slowly the hands turned him around, despite the warm hands doing little to thaw his shoulders, which were frozen in fear. Before him stood the most beautiful woman he had ever seen, her hands now rested on his shoulders from the front. Her lips parted slightly, revealing a deliciously wicked smile. She winked at him. His heart raced, and he couldn't find any words. He just stared ahead in shock. He felt something inexplicable -- and it wasn't quite terror -- it was ... it was... "Desire," she said softly, and laughed in a kind way. Her eyes softened, and her tone changed to a more maternal one. "It's desire, boy. It's OK." She took her hands off his shoulders, and with one of them she caressed his cheek softly. "Lord Xanadarc would like to give you this, to your family -- as a gift for keeping our tavern so tidy." She swished away from him, her scarlet dress and long, golden hair moving in counterpoint to her hips as she picked up speed and hurdled soundlessly over the bar. From behind it she put on the table two very-heavy looking bags, and the boy immediately knew it was a fortune in gold. Still lost for words, he also found he could not move. He didn't know if he could take the bags and run from this frightening but oddly fascinating woman, or if he was expected to keep working. She giggled and waved to him adoringly. "Goodbye, precious one! Don't forget to tell all your friends about us, as we're open for business!" Francis sprinted up to the bar, grabbed the bags, and ran all the way home -- not terribly excited about the gold, but rather that something more magical happened that day.