From the grunts and slaps and squeaking furniture sounding from all the way upstairs and through the door, one could only imagine what was going on.  And they may be partially right.  But instead of a man rutting a whore over a bed or somesuch, was instead a half-dressed woman grunting and struggling over, well, a whore she was rutting over a bed.  The “Lady” one presumed, was the silver-haired woman wearing a man’s dress shirt and some sort of phallus harnessed to her hips as she humped into the patient prostitute, simultaneously slapping her ass with a ham hock.<br/><br/>“Lilly, you need to tighten up down here, the victim was a terrified virgin fighting for her life, not a bored streetwalker with what feels like the slackest—”<br/><br/>“—LADY!  Ahem, Lady Vesperra!  You have guests, m’lady, the good doctor and a Mr. Wachner.  I’ll make tea…” she nodded, as some sort of recompense for suddenly subjecting  the doctors to the Lady in her “work.”<br/><br/>“What?  Ms. Adams, I’ve told you—oh bother, she’s puttered off.  No matter, hello Mr. Davis, back again, are we?  You’ve brought a partner this time?  Well, I’ve got Lilly for another half-hour if you want a run at her.  Mind the bruises, though, they’re for a case,” as if that explained anything as she tossed the ham aside carelessly, her artificial phallus bobbing wetly.  It was frighteningly realistic, possibly taxidermied.  Possibly the least of one’s questions was the false moustache she tossed off as well on her way to a dressing screen to hopefully put some clothes on.<br/><br/>https://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=1991443