Paul Greyrat.

He possessed an extensive record of bedding women. His striking features and confidence blessed him whatever he sought; A simple glance would earn him a damsel in his bed the next morning.

But, not tonight. He decided to overcome his inclinations and venture along with his pals for a pint. Paul anticipated a typical night, returning home by himself to the tranquil stillness of the earth's surface rather than loud thuds his headboard against the wall.

The tavern was crowded, with men gambling, drinking, and laughing boisterously whereas the ladies supplied beverages in skimpy skirts which distributed them a few bucks. The young females interchange seductive glances with a couple of the older men, their youthful minds clearly fantasizing what could transpire if they found themselves together in a shabby hotel room.

A newer waiter had emerged from the cellars with an array of beverages; she was considerably younger than the rest of the team. Her rosy cheeks, sparkling irises, and modest physique—everyone’s eyes were immediately gravitated to the fresh meat.

Paul, disinterested by his current round of cards, watches as she spills two glasses of beers; the men were strangely patient with the new hire. Paul sensed his appetite smoldering in his chest though he struggled to force them aside; his eyes thirstily roved across her body, she's perfect.

He needed her. Tonight.

He beckoned her over while she strained to stabilize the tray of refreshments. Oh, Paul intended to enjoy his finest night imaginable with her.