A Curvy Girl for the Prince by S.E. Law
2
Matilda
The blonde is certainly more athletic than she looks. I wouldn’t expect a skinny girl wearing high-heeled boots to be able to run so fast, but she leads me on a crazy chase. The girl clatters down a spiral staircase in the back of the castle before bursting into a dirt courtyard below. Then, she flies across the square before exiting the castle walls and disappearing into the surrounding neighborhood.
Of course, I do my best to follow although I’m not exactly an athletic person. I’m actually very curvy, so it’s awkward as my big breasts bounce and my thighs jiggle. Fortunately, the dress I’m wearing is a loose homespun shift, and it doesn’t impede my movement. Even better, as a lady in waiting, I’m allowed to wear flat shoes, so I have on cute Mary Janes with padded insoles. They’re a life-saver, I tell you. When you’re on your feet as much as I am, comfortable shoes are a must.
But the girl leads me on a crazy chase. We snake through the streets of Old Town, wending this way and that. She accidentally knocks some fruit off a stand, causing the vendor to bellow with rage, but she doesn’t stop. Meanwhile, plump oranges bounce out onto the street, forcing me to skip and jump like a fencing champion.
Then, the blonde practically barrels down an old lady with a cane, and I rush forward to help.
“Are you okay?” I ask breathlessly. “Oh my god, that woman is insane.”
The grizzled old crone merely snorts, planting her cane firmly on the ground.
“That Lizzie has always been an odd duck,” she spits into the dirt floor. “Or should I call her “The Gilded Lily” now?” she adds in a dark tone.
By now, I’ve lost the blonde, but the old lady looks at me with slanted eyes.
“Why are you chasing Lily? What do you want with us Old Towners? You’re clearly not from here.”
I don’t hesitate.
“No, I am from here. Well, I live in the suburbs now, but my family has roots in the city. But I’m trying to find Lily because she forgot something, and I’d like to return it to her.”
The old lady merely squints her eyes at me.
“Oh really? What?”
I hesitate for a moment because we’re in a questionable part of Old Town. I guess I was so busy with my chase that I didn’t notice we’d entered what’s euphemistically called “the Street of Pleasure.” Yes, you guessed it: it’s the Lysenian red-light district, and like any red-light district, there are all sorts of shady-looking people wandering about. There’s a prostitute dressed in a negligee, leaning against a wall smoking as she beckons to passing men. There’s a man trying to get gullible passerby to join him in a game of three card monte. And all around us, the crowd bubbles with activity: from stalls selling fried snacks to children begging for coin, to a juggler, tossing his pins high in the air before catching them in one fell swoop.
“Well, um,” I hem and haw, looking around. “Lily forgot a personal item, and I’d really like to return it myself.”
The crone merely spits onto the dirt again.
“Personal? Give it to me,” she commands. “I’ll see it delivered.”
I smile wanly because actually, I really want to find Lily and ask her about Haakon. If I hand over the lost pair of panties now, I may never be able to talk with the frightened girl, and my adventure will be over.
I take a deep breath.
“Well, I’d actually like to return it myself,” I say in a slow voice. “Do you know where she is? Do you think you could take me there?”
The old woman cocks her head at me again, looking like a babushka with a raggedy brown cloth wrapped around her head.
“No,” she snorts. “You’re not from here and we don’t trust strangers. Lily won’t see you.”
I sigh then, biting my lip. Should I pull out the lingerie? It seems so scandalous to proffer a pair of panties in public, but then again, this is the Street of Pleasure. They’re probably used to seeing this kind of thing, if not worse. With a reluctant sigh, I give in. I open my hand, and revealed in my fist is the scrap of purple lace.
“This is what I want to return,” I say in a low voice, stepping closer to the crone. “See? It’s a very personal item.”
The old woman cackles with laughter.
“Oh yeah, she’ll want those back alright,” the woman says. Then she throws me a speculative look. “You in her line of business?”
I cock my head at her.
“What line of business would that be?”
The old lady merely lets out a hoot of laughter while stomping her cane in the dirt with mirth. Then, she points down the street to a rickety two-story with a wooden sign that reads, “House of Silk.”
I stare. What is this? A silk store? A fabric shop? That seems unlikely, seeing that we’re currently on the Street of Pleasure, but I shrug and smile.
“Thanks,” I call while trotting away. “Appreciate your help!”
The woman merely cackles again, her beady eyes following me. A cold frisson runs down my spine, but I ignore the sense of disquiet as I stop in front of the wooden door. This is where Lily lives? It seems odd because it looks more like a tavern of sorts. But maybe she’s a bar wench, or a waitress. Who knows? With a confident shake of my head, I knock, and when the door swings open, my life changes forever.
