No Honour Among Thieves (Mature)

No Honour Among Thieves Part Two

1816
Thirteen years later

The Rivals at the Theatre Royal, Drury Lane, had been laboured, overlong, and shouty. Then skill wasn't required when the leading man was lithe of body and handsome to boot. Meg would guess that most menfolk present, had been coerced by their women’s lustful urgings towards the infamous actor. She watched the protagonist strut across the boards to cackles from the audience and smiled, Meg was fond of a good comedy though.

Who was she to decide a man’s talent? She wasn’t a critic, just a poor orange seller.

Just two more over- priced fruits left to sell. Meg needed to get rid of them fast if she wanted to be at the exit by curtain fall. Catching the mass exodus of theatre patrons was the most lucrative part of the night for her. 

She pulled the bottom of her corset, arching her back so her breasts escaped just enough to show the pink crest of her nipples. Gathering the waist band of her skirt flat so the copper shadow of her pubic hair was visible, she collected the excess fabric behind her to add padding to her rump. She was luckier than most vendors, in that her bosom was more than ample. Her waist was small, and bottom plump, framed to their best by the clinging, dampened muslin. Meg had a body that men craved and she used it like a weapon. Turning to make another circuit of the pit, her wrist was caught by a seated customer.

“Do you have something to offer me sweeting?” He asked, raising his eyebrows suggestively.

Not what he wanted was Meg’s instantaneous thought.

Dress to entice, become every rich man’s fantasy. That she did, but there it ended, a fantasy, not a reality. Meg didn't give out hand shuffles as she sat in laps, or suck cocks in the privacy of the boxes. She sold refreshments, that was all. Smiling coyly, she leaned over the man so he had a direct view of her cleavage. Pouting her lips, she huskily murmured. “Do you want something sweet and juicy?”

She watched his eyes widen as he took in her blatant display of white, freckled flesh. He shifted in his seat to accommodate his hardening rod. Meg’s smile broadened, her big, green eyes still fastened to his enrapt face. Men were incredibly malleable, let them think they were the most important thing in your sphere and it was like taking a lamb to slaughter.

“I would love something sweet and juicy.” His voice dropped seductively, mimicking hers.

Meg heard a snicker from behind him. Flicking her gaze over her tricks head, it locked with the mocking regard of the most beautiful man she had ever seen. He had long brown ringlets, laughing blue eyes and a full bottom lip. Dressed in the current, well-heeled fashion, his big frame looked captivating. Yet there was something off about him, a dangerous insouciance that suggested he too was playing a part.

She narrowed her eyes at him in warning, he winked back. For a moment Meg warmed, as if she had met an ally, another participant in this game of survival. She pulled her wrist away from her customer and picked up the last two oranges.

“There you are love, that’ll be a shilling.” She said softly.

The chump blinked at her in bemusement, but he took the oranges and paid for them. Meg hooked the basket over her arm satisfied. Before she could move on though, her wrist was taken again, this time her hand was pressed against stiffened flesh.

“What about this darling?” He husked once again, using that ridiculous tone as he rubbed her hand over his erection.

Bastard.

Meg forced a blinding smile on her face and leant over till her mouth almost touched his ear. Viciously she tightened her grip around him, sinking her nails into the solid flesh. Her voice overly honeyed she said. “If you don’t let go of my hand, I’ll rip the fucker off.”