TugboatWilliams

It was a year later when the girls met once again.  Nadia was lounging in her room eating a bowl of popcorn and watching TV. Bremon and Olivia had gone out to see a film, leaving her alone. Finding the lack of the threat of being expanded just for breathing quite pleasant, she dug her hand into the bowl. Excavating a handful of the buttery snack, she shoved the entire fist-ful into her hungry maw. “Chandler if only Monica didn’t marry you.” Nadia popped an escaped kernel of popcorn into her mouth. There was a sudden crash behind the woman and the cat-woman jumped up in surprise. She turned her head to the source of the sound. “Hello?” she asked.  “Fuck!” the cat-woman’s eyes widened. She knew that voice! Nadia hopped up from the couch and ran to the woman who caused the noise. Currently down on the floor, a vase seemed to have been broken by her entrance, was the originator of the crash. Bright green mohawk, check. Piercing in the nose, new but cool. Pissed off frown, check again.

Chapter V “And two-thousand four-hundred ninety-eight, two-thousand four-hundred-ninety-nine, twenty-five hundred!” Barbara said in relief. The women had gathered each of their shares of coin into three sacks that jingled like the finest bells at Christmas time. “She believes in the birth of Christ?” Eve thumbed a cord of silver tinsel. “And why decorate a brothel? Who’s it for?” “You wanna ask that question?” Jezebel said through a bag full of pistachios. “Or do you wanna get outta this place?” the punk panther continued throwing one of the nuts into the air with the intent to catch it in her mouth. It smacked her in the noggin with a small clunk. The girl rubbed her head and looked towards the others. They were thankfully given proper clothes to cover themselves. As they walked down the hallway early for their appointment with their Mistress, they came to a door, and they looked inside. In the dimly lit room, a fire raged under the mantle; only obstructed by a tall throne like

Chapter IV-B Elsewhere, Barbara and Michelle were playing with one another. Their stay in the brothel was proving itself to be quite tame. The clown was dressed in an extravagantly complex, and skimpy, version of her old outfit. Orange undersuit with blue polka dots showing a non-existent cleavage. She still had her fancy neck ruff but equipped with even fancier boots and gloves. She playfully ran a finger across Michelle’s forehead.  Michelle wore not her usual lionspaw shell bra, but a coconut cup brasier. She also had a crown made of flowers atop her head in addition to a loose grass skirt. She sat upon the edge of a fountain that was full of copper pieces. “I wonder if this is offensive? You’re not even a Hawian.” Barbara said. “I think?” “I was actually born in Honolulu. My parents were on their honeymoon when I ‘arrived’.” Michelle exposited her origin as it was told to her. “Oh that’s cute!” Barbara replied. She looked back to the door waiting for an interruption. Their room