Syd Liverin, otherwise known as Syd the Warlock, was not a pleasant man.
He was fat, well on the road to obese, and did nothing to hide it, wearing an open shirt to reveal the gold medallion among the wiry hairs of his chest.
His balding head had several hairs combed over and he seemed to be perpetually sweating under the lamplight and humid air of the aptly named Hot House.
But all that was fine, because the patrons of the Hot House didn’t come to see Syd.
They came to see the beautiful women dancing on stage, their skirts fluttering to the can-can, feathers swaying from gaudy bras that revealed large breasts, stockings netting lovely thighs and long legs.
The music banged from a honkytonk in the corner and the patrons gathered in the privacy of gloom, their eyes glued to the stage and the girls working it.
Syd paid little attention to the music. He only heard the far sweeter sound of coins clinking on the stage and overpriced drinks thudding onto tables.
But today, someone had come to see Syd, and when he got a look at her, he wasn’t complaining.
Syd wasn’t supposed to actually hire the girls to work at the club.
The girls on the stage with their voluptuous bodies and sinful dances were sourced by Miss Stroud, and Syd fearfully obeyed whatever that stone cold bitch wanted.
And her girls were special indeed. Not like the ones who walked in off the street and wanted to audition. Oh, sure, Syd would give those girls a tryout.
Maybe let them spend a night warming his bed, or at least bent over his desk after hours, trying so enthusiastically to persuade him to give them a job. But those New Larrin girls lacked the qualities needed to dance at the Hot House.
This woman – this elf – was the first Syd had seen with the looks and the moves to compete with the girls on stage.
Lovely pale golden curls, big blue eyes, those fantastic tits cradled by a low-cut bodice, and hips that swung back and forth like a hypnotist’s amulet.
Syd’s smile was as oily as he was. He reclined in the creaking cushions of his booth in the dark corner of the club.
He adjusted the pinching leg of his undershorts, feeling his dick stir at the sight of the elf.
"Hello there, darlin’," he called out to her, beckoning with one hand.
She smiled and came bouncing towards him. High heels and thigh-high stockings that didn’t quite reach to her short, pleated skirt. He liked that. He liked it a lot.
"Hello," said the elf. "I’m Ava."
"Right, Ava. Rorg said you were interested in the club. And you think you have what it takes, right?" Syd asked, resting a hand on his face as he ogled Ava’s big, soft tits.
"Um, you mean dance? Sure, I think so," said Ava.
"Mmmmm, turn around for me," said Syd, gesturing with one finger. Ava obeyed.
Syd could hardly believe it. The slender waist, the toned legs, that perfect heart-shaped ass, and those incredibly big tits. It was making his mouth water. "Yeah, that’s nice. One more time only flip the skirt up a little and bend forward. Yeah, that’s nice. Real nice. Do you have any experience dancing?"
"Oh, well, I’m still learning," admitted Ava. "But I danced at a spice parlor when I was in my eighties. Elf belly dancing and erotic acrobatics."
"Erotic acrobatics? Sure, sure." Syd wasn’t sure if this girl was for real, but the ears looked real. But with some of the arcane surgeries these days, who could tell? "Rorg said something about nursing experience. You from the hospital?"
"Oh, yes, I just came from there," said Ava. "Checking in on patients. But, really, I like to think of myself as a truth seeker. And what is a better tool for finding truth than my body?"
"Couldn’t agree more!" Syd said, barely listening. All his attention on the way her breasts moved in her tight little top. "You and me are gonna find some real big truths. Oh yeah. Real big ones. The thing is though, I gotta give you a tryout. Do you know what that means?"
"I think so," said Ava.
"Good," said Syd, rubbing his fingers together. "Come on back to my office and we can get started."
"Um, sure," said Ava. She looked around at the other girls on stage. "You have very beautiful girls here at the Hot House. Can I meet some of them?"
"No!" snapped Syd, picturing the stupid elf bimbo sidling up to one of Miss Stroud’s dancers. "Er, I mean, no, no, not yet. Not until it’s official. I don’t want you bothering them."
Syd heaved himself up out of the booth and through the club to the door in the back.
He opened it up and led Ava up a staircase barely wide enough for his bulk.
He was wheezing slightly by the time they arrived in a small room overlooking the stage through a one-way window. It was dingy and poorly lit.
There were pairs of panties and bras strewn all over the place. His desk was a mess, and the cot that passed for his bed was unmade with a distinct smell of sweat and cheap cologne in the air.
"Make yourself comfortable," Syd said. "There are robes in the closet there if you want to pick one out. Or you could just let me... peel the fruit." He wiggled his fat, ring-covered fingers. "Anyway, I’ll be right back. Gonna run a washcloth over my business."
Ava wrinkled her nose. "Um, okay?"
"Keep it wet for me," he said, winking and waddling off to a small privy at the back of the room.
Ava heard old pipes groaning and water splashing in a basin. She took the opportunity to snoop through Syd’s messy flophouse.
She found a ledger almost straight away. It detailed expenses for the club and everything seemed normal at a glance.
She kept looking, shuffling loose papers, plucked aside a pair of thong panties, and rolled aside a lacquered dildo with residue of sex clinging to its carved ridges.
Under this Ava discovered several wrinkled sheets of paper. They were pages torn from a ledger. Actual expenses! The other ledger had been fake.
Her excitement faded as she flipped through them, her frown growing deep. This ledger listed no pay for the dancers. Were they working purely on tips? And there were large expenditures on ’ritual salts’ and ’thaumaturgist’s chalk.’ Ava didn’t need the nose of an elf to smell magic, but she had one, and that smell was almost as pungent as the cologne.
"I hope you’re ready for a roll with the Leopard of New Larrin," Syd said, opening the privy door. The fat manager of the club had slicked back his hair and shed his pants and shirt, all in favor of a leopard-print robe he could barely tie shut over his round belly.
"Oh! Um, yes!" Ava said, quickly stuffing the papers into her purse. She smiled, her gaze taking in the sight of the sleazy club manager. "What, um, what sort of tryout did you have in mind?"
"Well, it seems it will need to start with me peeling my favorite fruit!" He was on her in a second, his flabby fingers pawing greedily at her curves.
He was kissing her too. Smothering her with his lips and trying to thrust his tongue into her mouth.
Syd could feel her surprise in the way she stiffened. But then, much to his amazement, she started to kiss him back.
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