A/N Kudos to those of you who recognize my "OC". I'm trying to make her the same person but who's been through her own kind of Hell and back.
Chapter 2:
She felt his eyes lingering on her as she continued to serve the thirsty crowd for the rest of the evening. On nights like this, when the tavern was bursting at the seams, she was often expected to share her room with a customer, sometimes two. She was grateful he had procured her "services" early so she would not have had to take on some codger who would have a little more trouble in completing the act. As she grew older and less comely, she was often left with the less than savory types to entertain, until recently that is. Many times she would suddenly find a young man, still a little green when it came to the seductive arts, who would find her just the type he wanted. She had led a few young boys into manhood, but her favorites were the types who had had a little experience. They tended to want to experiment which spiced things up in her rather mindless existence.
She was not a whore, nor one of those that Jack preferred, the strumpets, ladies of the night. They lived and worked in their brothels that were scattered throughout Tortuga. She was a barmaid, an additional service for those who needed a room for a night. Even as the owner of the bar, she felt it necessary to keep providing this service, at least until her looks turned even the older men away. She was still capable of sharing a bawdy joke or spinning a yarn, even of giving some unsuspecting sailor a jolt of excitement, but she also had realized that she needed to hire on a couple of young girls to help her try to keep up with the rowdy patrons. She herself had been in the same position when she first met Jack, as he tried to steal a rather large sailor's bag from him. She smiled at the memory, as it was the first of many adventures she had shared with him, trying to run away from what she eventually wound up being in the end.
As the crowd thinned in the early morning hours, she found more and more time to return to Jack's table. She let him grab her and hold tight at times, as if his life depended on it. As he released her, she would pull back, with a questioning look in her blue eyes, at which he would shake his head and merely plant another kiss either on a cheek or lightly on her lips. At one point she noticed that the open sore she had first spotted on his jaw some time ago had healed, leaving a noticeable scar. Knowing where such sores came from, she was surprised, and more than a little hopeful that such spots had disappeared elsewhere. Never had she heard of anyone healing from such a malady, but it seemed that Jack had … as per his usual luck … managed it. She stroked his beard in that spot, what little of it there was, and caught his leer. He knew what was going through her mind, and he was primed.
"Darlin', it's getting late," he reminded her.
"Do ye have to leave tomorrow mornin?'" She dreaded his answer. Thankfully she was surprised. He shook his head and made as if to stand, carefully favoring what appeared to be a leg that had gone to sleep. She chuckled at his plight. She offered him her shoulder as he moved gingerly from behind the table where he had been berthed the whole evening, and wondered if she was going to have to accompany him to the privy. He had been drinking all night, and before he followed her upstairs, he patted her behind, and promised to follow her shortly.
As she arrived to the door of her tiny room, she felt herself shoved into the wall by a walking mound of dirty rags, with hands reaching and groping frantically. As the arms that were attached to the hands entwined themselves around her, a slurring, slobbery voice assaulted her ears.
"Give over luv. I'll pay ye handsomely for a bit of th' slap and tickle, I will," promised the wretch. She shoved him away, only to have the octopus like arms suck her back into his putrid embrace. She struggled to free herself, but to no avail. The man's slimy lips trailed a kiss down the side of her neck, putting her in mind of the slugs that she used to salt when she was a lass. She shuddered, revolted, but her response urged him on further, his advances becoming even more desperate.
"Bugger off, Charlie. I wouldn't have ye if ye paid a king's ransom fer me services," she said loudly. She knew the other rooms on the floor were occupied so she hoped someone could hear her. "Ye've never paid me nor anyone here fer their services all yer life, so don't start makin' promises ye can't keep." She grunted as she continued to fight off the persistent suitor.
Abruptly, the hands that were clutched around her were dragged away, leaving scratch marks in their wake from his attempt to claw at her bosom. The scrawny body slammed with a crack into the opposite door from her room, causing an irate shout to issue from the resident on the other side. She turned to see Jack grimacing menacingly into the attacker's face, eyes wild, teeth glinting in the little bit of lantern light in the hallway.
"The lady said to leave her be, Charlie," he growled, slamming the raggedy man again into the door for good measure. With that, the door swung open and a sleep bedraggled sailor who was holding up his breeches appeared looming in the doorway. Jack let Charlie drop from his grip and grinned at the awakened sailor. The would-be attacker slumped against the occupant's legs, clutching them and squawking loudly, as if he had been victimized by the angry pirate.
"My apologies, mate," he offered to the customer, as he bent to retrieve the panicky beggar. "Just cleaning up some rubbish. Won't be moment, and ye can go back to beddy-bye."
All of a sudden, footsteps could be heard pounding up the stairs. The two henchmen from the bar came storming around the corner. One stopped there and kept an eye on the stairs while the other came forward to investigate the ruckus. He approached Jack, who, upon seeing the size and girth of the henchmen, promptly dropped the terrified bundle of rags. His eyes and grin widened as he backed away nervously from the situation, holding up his hands in defense.
"No worries there, mate. I'll let ye handle this from hereon in," he offered to the towering brute. The thug still advanced on Jack, as he was the only one seemingly bullying anyone else.
"All right, that's enough," spoke up the true victim of the attack who had been all but ignored within the last few moments. She shouldered past the bouncer and grabbed Jack's hand. She turned towards her employees and gestured towards the still whimpering beggar. "Just get rid of him and don't let him back in th' tavern. Pitch him out th' window if ye want, but just remember to open it first. The last one cost me dear." She shoved Jack towards the room, where he went willingly, but not without casting another cheeky grin towards the henchman. The thug watched him, somewhat bewildered at his employer's apparent choice in bedmate.
"Oh, and Horace?" she continued. "Ye can go home after cleanin' up here, but tell Taggart to stay on watch until sunrise. I'll be turnin' in now, so he's not to be lettin' anyone be disturbin' me." She turned to follow Jack into the room.
"Horace?" questioned Jack loudly enough for the bouncer to hear. An obvious snicker reached him as he picked up the beggar, just before the door clicked shut.
"Shut up, Jack," came the tavern owner's voice as the snicker turned into peals of laughter.
A/N I know, I know... I hate beggars too, but I've been reduced to doing so for reviews. I'm willing and mature enough to handle constructive criticism, even flames, so fire away. At least let me know if this is worth my time to continue.