This Body, the Ace Girl
A single shaft of sunlight slipped through the faded curtains.
Leon, who'd gotten up late, turned her face away from it — and with that movement her breasts rolled in a slow, heavy sway. On the soft sheets her skin was dry and smooth, not a drop of sweat on it, proof she'd rested well through the night. Her muscles, though, ached.
"...Nngh."
She lifted her arms and stretched, slow. Her breasts rose with the motion and spilled out past the sheets, and beneath them a sleek, firm line from navel to hips was laid bare all at once.
She looked down at her own body. Scratching her belly like some middle-aged slob, her eyes empty of any feeling — as if asking, whose body is this supposed to be, anyway?
One hand climbed slowly up her side and stopped beneath those alien breasts.
Tock.
Leon flicked a tit with her fingertip, bouncing it.
The jiggle spread in a slow wave. Heavy, taut, springy flesh. She hadn't wanted them, hadn't made them — and yet they'd already stuck to her like they'd always belonged there.
"...Hah."
A short breath. Her legs were still spread, and sunlight traced slowly along the edges of her bare, uncovered pussy.
She flipped the blanket aside with a jerk. Looked between her own legs as if confirming something, furrowed her brow once, then sat up with a blank face.
She had to go to work.
Leon pulled on the robe draped beside the bed. Even after it covered her back, the residual heat of her naked body lingered through the hair falling over her shoulders. She'd caught a glimpse of herself before heading out, rumpled and uncombed — lips still wet, hair slightly tangled. She'd only just woken up, and the body was still the body. It looked filthy as hell.
Seira looked in the mirror and said, shortly:
"Wonder how much I'll make today."
That was all. She yawned until her jaw cracked, then walked out the door as if nothing had happened at all.
"Oh my, oh my — look who it is, our hot little lady from yesterday?"
Seira's eyebrow twitched once at the proprietor's voice, which burst out the moment she opened the tavern door. Nothing else had changed. The familiar cheap spice smell, the damp floor, the lighting that still hadn't been replaced. The one thing that had changed since she'd arrived was the look on the proprietor's face.
"You'll pull another big one today, won't you?"
"...Give me a new outfit first. I'll just buy it myself."
After that, Seira just raised her arms without another word. Inside the robe she was wearing almost nothing, and the proprietor, clocking that fact, half-narrowed his eyes and grinned.
"Okay. With a body like yours as a weapon, you could wear something different every day for three days straight and it'd still work."
What he handed over, along with that nonsense explanation, was a uniform even more revealing than yesterday's. Seira took it, pinched the edge of the fabric between thumb and forefinger, and gave it a little shake. Held up to the light, the other side showed faintly through the cloth.
A top with no straps. Curves that seemed to cup the breasts without actually covering them, and a bottom that was a single triangular scrap of cloth in front. The back was a thread-thin string, leaving half her ass exposed. Just walking would show her entire thighs.
There was also a heart-shaped patch meant to cover her crotch, though they probably weren't insisting she wear it. Looking at that tiny scrap of cloth dangling in a clear plastic pouch as if it were optional, Seira muttered blankly, still holding the outfit.
"Pretty much the same."
She shoved open the changing-room door and put it on. Thin fabric pressed down from above as if embracing her breasts. When she lifted her hand even slightly, the outline of her nipples showed through, nearly transparent. A slight turn of her waist left her sides completely exposed, and when she drew a breath the way they swelled and pushed up was filthier than any underwear.
The bottom needed no comment. The cloth stretched thin between her thighs, and the back was a single thread. Her ass was almost completely out. It looked like it would slip off if you so much as brushed it with a finger.
One little shove from above and that's it.
Meanwhile, she deliberately folded the hem to cinch it tighter beneath her breasts, like a push-up. Tighter meant more bounce when she moved.
The proprietor gazed at the Ace Girl with open satisfaction, then buckled a belt around Seira's hips. Instead of yesterday's ugly sack, a small pouch had come with it — for collecting tips. It was decoration that screamed, shove your money in here.
"Give it your all today, yeah~?"
Last of all, the proprietor fastened a choker around Seira's neck. A material that would glitter under the lights. It made her neck look slimmer, longer.
"Sure it. Expect more than yesterday. I'll make more."
"Good. Then over here."
The proprietor tapped a spot marked on the staff roster. Among the tavern's table seats, dead center facing the stage — the golden spot, where the most eyes turned. Seira just nodded. Once you'd calculated the value of your own body, stares were money.
She walked slowly from midday onward, tray in hand. The fabric rippled along her thighs, and with every half-step her breast-straps bounced. Eyes followed her past the already-full tables, all the way in from outside.
"There she is. That's the girl from yesterday, right?"
"Damn, she's built..."
When she approached, conversation died at one table and the drinking stopped. Three men at a middle table sucked in their breath without even thinking.
"Have you looked at the menu?"
When she gathered her hair up into a single bun, the fabric and her breasts lifted with it, putting on a spectacular show for anyone looking from below. The words came out blank-faced, but there was a shadow in her tone. Of course it didn't mean what would you like to drink so much as which part of me are you betting on today, and for how much.
"Uh, Miss Seira... today, that..."
"What."
She picked up a bottle of expensive wine and poured for customers who hadn't even ordered. When she braced the tray against her hip, her cinched breasts bounced slightly upward, and below the pouring hand her thighs showed shamelessly through the slit.
"Hah, fuck..."
How much the drinks cost wasn't the point. One man set a one-silver coin down on the table with a click. Another put down two silver. A third slid one beside the tray like a tip. Seira picked them up without a word and stuffed them into her pouch.
She didn't smile. She just crooked the corner of her mouth, slightly.
"Smile for me, just once... please. Be nice."
"If I smile?"
"...I'll give you more."
Only then did Seira tilt her head to the side, just so. Not quite a smiling-eyes look, not quite indifferent either — exactly like a seductive fox. The man shot up from his seat, then sat back down as if nothing had happened. He didn't even seem to notice the drink he'd spilled on his own thigh; his glass just trembled in his hand.
Seira glanced back over her shoulder, just slightly.
"Nothing else? Then I'm going."
"They haven't even ordered drinks yet."
"It's fine. They came to look at me."
It wasn't bluster, and it wasn't a joke. The moment she'd walked in, she was this tavern's merchandise. The one and only, at the highest price.
"Miss Seira... today, maybe that..."
The man asked, glancing around at the others.
"Like yesterday... just once. Even briefly."
Already on the table: two ten-silver coins. A five-silver stacked lightly on top. Twenty-five silver total. Seira poured the wine quietly and asked:
"Right in front of you?"
"Yeah... here, just... even if you just sway your hips a little, like last time..."
Tak.
Seira set the glass down and lightly pushed the man's fingers away.
"Then five silver more."
"Okay."
Once the extra coin was stacked, she finally drew one leg back slightly and slowly folded at the waist. Between the fabric and her taut, springy skin, the line of her ass lifted just a fraction — and the men sucked in their breath as one.
"Like this?"
"Nngh..."
One short hip-swing and the table was swallowed in silence. Customers at nearby tables started craning their necks, little by little, to look at her.
At that moment, another girl who'd been watching from a distance set her cup down with a clack.
"Hey. This isn't that kind of place."
Seira didn't look at her. She was still holding the bottle; she just readjusted a uniform strap beside her breast, once.
"It's not that kind of place, but thanks to you everyone thinks it is! Cut it out. If you want to act cheap, go somewhere that fits!"
The proprietor pretended to quietly wipe a glass, watching the situation unfold.
"Miss, if you don't like it, don't do it."
"What?"
Only then did Seira turn her head.
"Who told you to? You take one or two silver and just pour drinks, right? I take thirty silver and I shake my ass. And these guys are loving it. Got a problem?"
The tavern's regular girl opened her mouth, face flushed — and the proprietor cut in.
"That's enough. Don't make a scene in front of the customers. You do your share, Seira does hers. Handle your own."
She turned away, teeth clenched. But one customer spoke up, loud enough to be heard on purpose.
"That little move just now was the happiest I've been all day, you know?"
Another coin landed on Seira's tray with a tap. Without a word, she tilted the tray slightly, and the money rolled into her pouch with a bright clink.
That single sound had already decided a fight that was never even close.
As if to change the mood, it was daytime performance hour inside the tavern. As the lights concentrated on the stage, the hall transformed into something like a breathing-hole in the dark — thanks to the blinds they'd drawn. Even packed with people, it was still daytime, so the proprietor clapped loudly, trying to raise the energy.
"Everyone~ Today we have a song performance prepared by our Miss Lily! Please enjoy it quietly~!"
When glittering lights lit the center of the stage, the area around the tables grew relatively dark and cramped. Seira used that slight scattering of attention to quietly sit down beside one table.
"Miss Seira... you actually came."
A man with a thoroughly flushed face smiled, small. On the table, a metal plate prepared in advance. On it: fifty silver.
"That was the promise yesterday, right? If you came today, you'd do it..."