Some timeless minutes and a few changes of position later, I came inside her. She claimed it was good for the forest. I knew it was good for me. Good for her, too.
For using Sexual Satisfaction for the first time, you have gained one experience point. You now need 1996 points to reach third level.
Right, 20% better for her. Whatever that meant. The glow on her face was sufficient to let me know she’d enjoyed herself.
She had strewn my clothes around the well cleared area of the forest where one of my zombies had been excessively persistent in picking up debris, but I wasn’t in a rush to get dressed, even if I did have things to do and trolls to talk to. Cuddling her seemed more important. She smelled like flowers, and her skin felt like silk. She idly stroked my breasts and my cock, and even teased the lips of my pussy, and I wondered if she was trying to get me ready for a second round. Her fingers on my pussy felt especially good, because those nerves were exciting and new.
We had some things I needed to talk about, as tempting as it was to just lay there. “Seriously, Xyla, if you had a few trolls you could order around, at least on a temporary basis, would that help you with the forest cleanup? I imagine they’d be more useful than the zombies.”
She pouted. “Do we have to think about trolls right now?”
“Yes. Because the next thing I need to do is go talk to them and negotiate a deal with them. One that, hopefully, will make you happy, me happy, and them happy.”
“I’m fine with them not being happy.”
“No you aren’t. If they aren’t happy, they’ll want to make trouble.”
“They can’t have any more trees.”
I sighed. I thought, at first, that it would be impossible to make a lasting deal if that was her stance and had not been looking forward to persuading her out of it. But money changed a lot of things. “I think I can make that happen. Anyway, yes or no, would you like some trolls helping you with the cleanup? If yes, how many and for how long?”
Xyla thought. “Four at a time. For maybe fifteen days.”
“I’ll see what I can do.”
“But what do I have that they want, other than my trees and my beautiful body, which they may not have?”
I kissed her. “You don’t. But I have things, and I want you safe. Just because I care about you.”
“You’ll still bring me chocolate?”
“I’ll still bring you chocolate. As your lover, not just because we negotiated a deal.”
“Oh Abby!” Xyla cried, throwing her arms around me. “You make me feel so good. Please, cum inside me again?”
She was hard to resist, so it was pretty late in the day by the time I finally got to the troll village. I was wearing my backpack, with the bag of holding inside that. I’d used it a few times in front of the trolls, but I saw no reason to draw further attention to it. A lookout spotted me and ran away to tell the others, with the result that Gren greeted me when I finally arrived.
“Amorous Abby!” she yelled as she charged me, nearly bowling me over with a tackle hug. “Purveyor of peace, orchestrator of orgies, dest –”
I kissed her, which didn’t alliterate but hopefully twisted her tongue in a more pleasant fashion. I wrapped my arms around her bare waist. Her leather clothes covered the essentials but left her belly and her long legs bare.
“Hmm. You taste like Xyla,” Gren said, after a few minutes of tongue wrestling.
“Yes.” What, was I going to deny it?
You’re learning! Let the bitch know that you’re cucking her. It will only make her want it more!
Some people will never get polyamory.
“As long as you saved a little something for your favorite troll.” She paused. “I am your favorite troll, right?”
“Good. When do we get more whiskey?”
“That’s what I’m here to talk to Gavabar about. How was the orgy?”
“I missed you. It would have been so good to have you there! And then people would believe me about your colossal cock.”
I wasn’t sure I wanted them to believe her. But if she kept rubbing herself against me they’d have some evidence, because my jeans felt very tight. I gently pushed her away. “Let me talk to Gavabar, and then perhaps we can find someplace private?”
She fluttered her blue eyes at me. “Or someplace public?”
“Someplace private,” I said firmly.
“I’ll talk to a friend,” she told me.
We walked into town with her hand around my waist, under my top and against my bare skin. I put my arm around her. Needless to say, we attracted a few stares from the guys working around town. They weren’t working on the new building, but were making repairs in some of the old ones, which meant they were scattered around.
“Double Decolletage!” shouted one.
Cat-calling was just different in troll country.
Gavabar was in the chief’s hut, sitting on the chair Varek had usurped for a while. I noticed a few blood stains on the chair they hadn’t gotten around to cleaning. Maybe they hadn’t been able to, or didn’t care. The death of Varek wasn’t a moment I wanted to relive, but I was more convinced than ever that it was necessary.
“Necromancer Abby,” he said.
He looked a lot better than he had. His cheeks were a deeper blue, his hands steady. His enemies had been starving him, and a few days of eating had helped him a lot.
I curtsied. I wasn’t sure what the proper way to approach a village chief was, but I didn’t think that was giving too much ground. “Chief Gavabar.”
We looked at each other for a while, while the silence lengthened. At last he spoke. “Your whiskey was good,” said the chief at last. “And I would acquire more, if the cost is not too steep.”
I smiled. “I brought some other, similar drinks. In case you like them even more.”
Gavabar smiled thinly. “I am aware that I would not negotiate as well if I drink too much, Necromancer Abby.”
That really wasn’t my intent. “Just Abby,” I said.
“You have indeed brought justice to my village, and I am grateful,” he said.
That wasn’t what I meant, either. “I mean, you can just call me Abby. No need for a title.”
“Hmm,” Gavabar said. “Gren, get Rargar, and Gregor. Have them sit in with me, so they can test Abby’s drinks and give me their advice.”
“Great,” Gren said. “I’ll sit in, too.”
Gavabar frowned. “You know that I always like to hear what you have to say, dear daughter. But –”
“Besides, if you get drinks the men like and the women hate, then where will you be?”
Gavabar shrugged. “I suppose,” he said.
Gren left, and he turned to me. “So you represent a Prince Legolas, who is an elf?” he asked. “I thought the elves were mostly a matriarchy, as incredible as that seems.”
Oops. It was probably a good thing the trolls found that hard to believe, or they might have called me on my bluff. “I made Prince Legolas up. I represent myself, and I come here representing Xyla of the forest as well. I, and I alone, have access to the whiskey I brought before.”
“You make it yourself?”
I shook my head. “I didn’t say that. But I am the only person on Amaranth who can get any.”
He tilted his head at that and regarded me thoughtfully.
Gren came back with Rargar and Gregor, and some cups. These were cruder affairs than the chief’s, which seemed to have been restored to their place, and made of clay rather than gold.
I noticed the way the male trolls’ gaze swept me from head to toe, before they sat down on one side.
“So,” Gavabar said. “Let us try this new whiskey. Is it all equally potent?”
“More or less,” I said. I hadn’t checked the bottles for that, but it should be close. Conscious that if I didn’t want to show off the extra-dimensional properties of my bag, I could hardly show them everything, I pulled out five bottles, which I thought could have fit in my backpack. One was the Jack Daniels they were familiar with, but I also brought out a bottle each of scotch, rye, and Irish whiskey, and the brandy Kathy had drunk some of. I hadn’t bought the most expensive stuff, but I hadn’t gone super cheap either, even though it occurred to me that the trolls might not be able to tell the difference. I wasn’t a big drinker, but the harshness of the cheap stuff would annoy me and I wanted to make friends.
“Try just a little of each,” said Gavabar. “For I shall want your counsel. So, Abby – assume that for our part we want five bottles of whiskey a week. What do you want in return?”
“I want gems, or gold, or some combination of both,” I said. “And I want Xyla and her forest to be left alone.”
“Gems and gold might be possible, but the forest is a different problem.” He looked over at Gregor. “Speak.”
Gregor took a breath. “Yes, Chief.” He looked at my eyes, for a change. “Before the baleful Baradzem came, our village was falling apart. Xyla claims every tree left as part of her domain. Every tree on the plains has been cut down, and our houses are leaky and in the winter they are cold. The scraps of wood she lets us take are not enough to keep things in repair.”
“So you want lumber.”
“We need to be able to chop down trees for wood,” Gregor said, looking at his chief for approval, and getting it, back to me.
“This is why Baradzem was able to take control,” Gavabar said. “I made a bad deal, although I did it so that we would not lose lives. But as our village grew, it left us short. Whiskey is helpful, and having a plentiful supply will make our people happy for a while, but when they are cold because we have no wood, the happiness will not last. We can take apart the new building Baradzem was building, and use that to repair things, and that will help. But in a year, or five years? The problem will be the same. And the whiskey will mean more babies, and more need.”
“Like I said,” I replied. “You want lumber. Suppose I can get you some. This thick. This wide.” I used my fingers to indicate the dimensions of a two by four. “About twice my height in length, a little shorter. How many boards would you need?”
“That isn’t very wide,” Gregor said.
“Alright,” I said, holding my hands a little less than six inches apart. “This wide, then.”
I shook my head. “Not logs. Pre-cut. All very close to the exact same size, so that you know exactly what you’re working with. You could pile them up in a stack and hardly be able to tell the difference, so all the most difficult sawing will be already done for you.” I reached in my backpack and brought out the one foot length of two by four. “. But longer.”
He reached out to touch it. “So smooth,” he said.
Gren stroked it softly. “Ah,” she said. “I just love the feel of your wood, Abby.” She winked at me. “So thick. So hard.”
I had a really hard time keeping a straight face.