((This post may be NSFW due to the mention of some parts of the female anatomy. Additionally, fair warning that this post may cause mild offense in some. Read at your own discretion.))

"Sleep sweet, when you do,” the girl spoke as he closed the door behind him. He permitted himself a moment, a brief smile, his thoughts on his student. Delightful, bright little Hera. Breasts! How had he been able to overlook this, how could he have missed this? The answer had been in front of him all along! Cursing himself, the scholar stepped a brisk pace down the stairs of the inn, winding along. A waitress winked at him – he didn't notice. Passing by the bar, his eyes drifted over Sonialar Brightshiner, but her presence went unnoticed by him as well. His mind was racing, and as always, his body could not keep up. Walk -faster-, move -faster-, I do not have -time- for this!

  He rushed down the streets, his pace between a run and a jog. Too slow. Move -faster-. The shopkeeper looked at him, and made some senseless remark. Damnit, man. Move faster. He quickly listed off the items he needed, and counted out a few gold pieces as the order was filled. “Solid brass, sah”, the merchant said, his skin crawling as the scholar's eyes rested on him. The expression was empty, dead, filled with only determination. The feeling was soon forgotten as the pieces of gold rolled over the counter. The door slammed shut behind the man before the salesman could count the pieces.

 A brisk pace – his hands putting together the simple device as he walked. The pieces all fit together – high quality. If he had proper tools, improvements could be made, but there was no time. He grimaced as he remembered the time when his lab had its funding – before the raid. Seventeen assistants he had had, at the peak of his career. The nature of renown – curious. A few burned papers, smoke had taken his identity. Everything had been at his beck and call, his time was too valuable to be wasted on anything menial. And now, here he was, using glue to hold together a contraption not even close to perfect. He'd had engineers, damned-be-all.

 No matter – he was almost there. The red and blue light of the Row colored his pristine white shirt blue as he passed by. The device in one hand, he moved down the alleys, determinedly. He clenched his fists in frustration as he saw the boarded up doors in front of him. 'Harlot's Hell', closed, hm? A damned shame – he'd spent many fine nights there during his youth. No matter, another possibility should lurk around the corner. He moved fast, determinedly, with the confidence of a man who knows the dredge of society.

 “Oi mistah. Lookin' fer somethin'?” a greasy pimp whispered as he passed, immediately noting the scholar's pristine white shirt and stylish pants. Jakobus took a quick look over the man – several scars decorated his cheeks. Rubbish – a has-been.

 “Nothing you can provide,” he responded, and moved on. He almost missed it – the narrow staircase at his side, but he did not. He glanced up, and noticed the man standing in the doorway the stairs led up to. He was broad-shouldered, muscular, and immaculately dressed. Perfect. With light steps, he bounded up, and nodded at the bouncer, who looked him over briefly, then opened the door for him, revealing the room beyond. Several men were littered around, the thick blue smoke of thistle and tobacco obscuring the details of their interactions with the various naked or scantily-clad women. Thankfully so, Jakobus noted, and stepped in.

 He was glad his shirt was white – he would immediately be able to tell where he'd been touched, and be able to wash appropriately. A girl approached him, her full breasts covered coyly with her arm.

 “Hey there, sweetin's... you look like you could use some... fun,” she purred into his ear, and he stiffened as her tongue explored his ear.

 “You would be mistaken. I wish to speak to your boss, hm?” he spoke, clenching his jaw. The women might look delicious, but he had treated the effects of their disease-ridden, filthy bodies often enough to be wary. The girl looked him over with a smirk, and turned.

 “Sure thing, sugar,” she laughed, her bottom shaking lightly at him as she departed. Moments later, he found himself in a small room, facing 'the boss'.

 “Do you have a complaint, sir?” the enormous man asked, looking down at the scholar with narrowed eyes. Although the question was polite, it was obvious that the wrong answer would lead to another John Doe at the guard house, mauled beyond identification.

 “No, sir, I assure you – I am most impressed with your establishment and with your merchandise. However; I assume I would not be the first to indicate special... desires?” he spoke, his eyes moving to the pimp's as the other tossed a small pouch of gold pieces onto the table.

 The pimp eyed the pouch, unimpressed. “Special's expensive. How special are we talking?”.

 Jakobus could barely contain his annoyance – this bartering was taking too much time! “She has to be with child, eighth months or later,” he clarified, and preemptively dropped another pouch onto the table. The notion that this man would let coin rule his life – what a waste.

 The pimp scooped up the pouches, and gave the scholar a broad grin. “You just bought yourself an hour with Shazelle”.

 Jakobus winced as he walked into the room. It was messy, filthy and dusty. Shazelle lay on the bed, looking surprised at the customer – she had understood the implications of her condition when she'd refused to get rid of the problem within her. Ferron had been generous, most men in his position would have thrown her out. This is why working for him was considered one of the best in the Row; he wouldn't discard his girls as easily, not when there was still money that could be made. Of course, she'd gotten the shit room, and when her teeth ached she no longer got a dentist but a man with a set of pliers, but that mattered little.

 She briefly wondered what kind of man it would take to pay for her services, when her eyes caught his. Her breath stopped in her throat for a moment, her heart racing: a nobleman. He'd have paid a fortune, she knew Ferron would have milked him for every copper. Oh, he would get value for money. He would get anything he damn well wanted. Tomorrow, she would have a bath, back in the room of the high-priced girls. “What can I do for you, loverstud?” she asked him, putting the professional purr in her throat the way she'd always done.

 His eyes drifted to her stomach: “Expose yourself” he bade, sending a wave of annoyance through her spine. Prissy fuck, he could at least pretend to be attracted to her.

 She kept her smile plastered on as she suggestively raised her shirt, and pulled it over her head. She held her hands on opposite sides of her stomach, and winked at him: “Do you like what you're seeing? Do you want to feeeeel me?” she purred, attempting to draw him closer. She was startled as the man tossed a bundle at her. She could not help her curiosity, picking up the small bundle and opening it. Inside was a strange, machine-like object. A cup, attached to a short hose, ending in a container from which a small balloon stuck out. The fuck? She looked up at him, and saw him smile. She could not help but smile back, her anger melting away slowly. She wished he would hold her in the way he looked at her. Somehow, she knew, that once those arms closed around her – she would be safe.

 Jakobus looked at the filthy woman in front of him, noting the missing front tooth, the layer of grime on her skin and the bulging stomach. Her skin was pulled so taut her veins showed clearly, her skin making the red blood inside of her look purple to the eyes. No mistaking this – it was twins. Her breasts were swollen in anticipation, producing milk for the children-to-be. Wonderful. He ignored her question, walking over to stand next to the bed. He smiled at her, and winked: “Dove, your breasts,” he started, and held back his annoyance as she grinned and interrupted him.

 “Baby, I know what you want. You want to have a little drink, don't you? Well sweety, why don't you come over here and give them a little kiss, hm?” she pouted, bringing her hand under the teat and lifting it.

 He shook his head, speaking softly. “I will pass. Place the cup over your breasts, and repeatedly squeeze the balloon, please. It will feel tight, and you will fill the container. Once filled, I have another for you to fill. This is what I paid you for, hm?” he spoke, softly. There was no harshness to his tone, she noted, and before she really knew what she was doing, she had already placed the cup over her breasts and started squeezing. She looked over at him, hoping for that smile. Her heart fluttered as she got it.

 Jakobus left soon after, his satchel filled with two flasks of breast milk. Liquid. -Of course- it had been liquid.