I tried to ignore the sounds — the snores of those who had gone to sleep on the benches, with their cloaks as blankets if they had them, the heavy b...eathing and the loud or muted sounds of pleasure or pain from those who occupied benches but slept not, the drunken laughter and the sudden curses from the tables were cards or dice were played, the occasional shouts for more beer or wine — the pub catered to both tastes — and among all those sounds, I dimly heard the voice of the story-teller. I. ‘You are allowed to bend over the table.’ I suggested as casually as I could. My eyes flicked between the rear of her skirt and the grey haired man’s eyes as she paused, cue in hand. Then slowly, deliciously, she bent, the hem of her skirt rising accordingly, but the moment the very tops of her thighs were revealed, she stood up with a playful shriek. Reaching around to flatten her skirt back down, she spun around, glancing at him searchingly, trying to read from his face how much he had seen.. More

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