Hanna was sitting in the Pierced Boar tavern in the village of Morrovale. She was perched beside her best friend Sharesh, the Rakasta, on one of the tavern's bar stools. Hanna had one of the 'special' stools, which were noticeably taller, to accommodate the halflings' tendency to be three feet in height or less. Her sizable bare feet were propped onto the first rung down from the padded seat. There were other halflings dwelling near this village, several communities within a week's walk, but she had not come to visit them. Hanna had met plenty of halflings at home; she was out in the world to see other things, to find new experiences, and most of all, for a few weeks now, to see if she could bed a centaur.
Sharesh was a very different sort. She was dressed in a long cloak with a hood, to minimize her inhuman features. Being a humanoid feline could have its advantages, but it also had its drawbacks, such as people taking immediate and great notice of you. Near the feet of the stool her tail swished near the floor, always in motion, and she teased the tavern's resident cat with it unconsciously.
It might be considered laughable that a halfling would wish to even try to bed a centaur, but for one to actually think she could pull it off was beyond reason. Sharesh attempted to tell her so.
"You will get yourself killed, Hanna, if you try that." Sharesh said. She hooked her clawed thumb toward the door, and thence to the stables. Her feline face had concern on it, but her huge emerald green eyes were glittering with amusement.
Hanna shrugged and combed her fingers through the shoulder-length curls of her honey-colored hair. "It's like religion, I suppose." Hanna said, her head tilting slightly. "I simply have faith in myself." Then she giggled. "Besides, I have a plan." She looked out the door, focusing her brown eyes past the field between the tavern and the village's public stables. In the stables' paddock, three male centaurs were sunning themselves. They had just arrived in Morrovale from some faraway land and were resting before continuing their journey to their homelands. Their arrival in the little village had caused quite a stir, but the two girls were used to such goings on. Additionally, they were seeking centaurs, or at the least Hanna was.
Sharesh believed she had a more reasonable grasp of the scope of this situation. She had once bedded a half ogre, and had spent a week recovering from it. That was despite her incredible agility and resilience. And he had been being gentle with her. For this particular young rakasta, a week without some play had been a sore trial.
Now Hanna wished to achieve one of the greatest achievements of cross-species adventurers: To accommodate a centaur. Given that a centaur's One-given equipment was nearly the length of Hanna's arm, it would be unfeasible. But Hanna was insistent. Sharesh had acquired an alchemical potion of healing should things go awry, or worse yet, should Hanna succeed.
Her little friend gulped down another shot of liquid courage and called to Tammer, the barkeep. "Another please, Tammer. I can still feel my toes." She said, breaking into a fit of giggling.
The bartender had to be a hundred if he was a day. He walked down the bar and presented her with another shot of rum, taking away her old glass. He stopped moving for a moment and smiled at the girls. "You two are a sight for sore eyes, I must say." He said. "I've not seen the likes of you for years, such pretty lasses in my bar."
The two beamed under the compliment, and cooed over the aged man for a few moments, and Sharesh thought she might just give this gallant gentleman a snuggle tonight, as a proper show of gratitude for someone who had served the world well. To Sharesh, bartenders were a hallowed class, and deserved respect and honor, among other expressions of gratitude.
She leaned close to him and said. "You wouldn't be sleeping alone tonight would you?" One of her hands moved to just under his chin, and a single claw slid from its protective sheath, gently scratching along his jaw line. A tiny vibration of a purr crept into her breathy voice, as well, just to make the question more inviting.
Tammer laughed. "I guess I will, because ain't no young beauty like you going to give me a tumble." He said, smiling at the girls. He turned and headed down the bar to deal with other demanding patrons, but the smile remained on his wrinkled face. As he took the men's orders, he kept casting his green eyes back toward the rakasta in brief, furtive glances.
"Hmm." Sharesh murmured. "I wouldn't be too sure, old man." She smiled a predatory smile, her long fangs flashing.
Hanna eyed her friend. "You'll bed anyone with a pulse won't you?" She asked, patting Sharesh's long, gray furred leg.
"Mmm-hmm" The Sharesh said, and looked down at her friend's hand, then slowly up her arm to her pretty oval face. "Including you, little one, if you keep stroking my thigh." She winked at her halfling companion. She turned on the stool, and Hanna's hand was forced by the changing angles to slide far up the muscular thigh, dangerously close to Sharesh's loincloth. The fur was soft and warm under the halfling's hand.
The halfling looked down and said. "You tempt me, Sharesh, you really do." Then she looked back up, meeting the taller woman's eyes. "But you know women aren't really my mug of beer." Then she looked down again, her brown eyes growing wistful. "But, I find myself thinking more and more often of thinking of changing mugs." She rubbed the soft fur of the cat's thigh a bit more, and then retrieved her errant hand.
Sharesh said, "Whenever you're ready, let me know. I'll bring you over gently, or not, by your preference." Her very large eyes started watching the bartender again. She paused a moment, speaking without taking her eyes off of Tammer. "You know what your planning is impossible."
Hanna said. "It is no such thing, I've planned for the differences in size and such. I will bring the centaur off inside me and I'll not use my hands, as I hear human women have to do." The halfling mimed holding onto something huge and tumescent between her legs.
The cat sighed. "I wager three marks of silver that you cannot." She said with an authoritative tone in her voice. The gentle swishing of her long tail became swifter and had more sharp movements in it, infuriating the tavern's rat-catcher.
"I will cover that bet, cat girl." Said Hanna. "I'll even sweeten the deal and I'll let you take me to bed if I cannot, as well." Then she giggled. "Not that I probably won't go willingly enough soon, anyway."
"Very well, you have till midnight, then." The cat-girl pronounced, looking over at the expensive water clock in the corner.
The halfling dropped off of her stool, and stood on wobbly legs. "Okay, then, I'm off." She said. She headed out the door, toward the paddock, with a look of determination on her small, cute face.
Holding her drink in her hand, she watched her friend walk out. Sharesh shook her head mournfully and fingered the pouch with the emergency potion. She hoped it wouldn't be needed. Hanna would get one look at the swinging organ of the centaur and bolt, she hoped. She held up her empty glass. "Bartender, I need another drink." She said.
Tammer came back down to her. "You and your little friend can sure pack it away." He said, chuckling. The smile he adopted caused some of the wrinkles marking his age to deepen, but also showed Sharesh that he was a man who had always smiled a lot.
Sharesh looked at him oddly, he thought, and then said. "Something tells me you can 'pack it away' as well, grayhair." She smiled at him, her deeply cleft cat's lip causing the smile to be very broad and toothy. When he handed her the drink, she wrapped her hand around his and extended her long claws. He couldn't pull away without lacerating himself. "Will you grace me with your presence tonight, Tammer?" She asked, sweetly. "I would dearly love to share your warmth." She was purring full strength now, and her eyes nearly glowed with intensity. Standing from the stool, her cloak had fallen open and Tammer regarded the long, very well shaped and gray-furred body as it was revealed to him and gulped visibly. Her small loincloth and abbreviated half-tunic concealed little, and what he did see was very much to his liking. He even let his eyes wander down her legs, where she had clawed feet perched on the bottom rung of the stool's cross-members. The legs were flawless, even with their backwards knees.
Tammer's eyes grew wide. "Lady, if I thought I would do anything but disappoint you, I would quite happily keep you company." He said and chuckled again, though this one sounded forced. "You're too hot blooded for my old bones. You'd snap me like kindling. There are plenty of young lads about the place, and you know you could pick your favorite, or even favorites."
"You underestimate yourself, grayhair." She said and leaned over the bar to where her small triangular nose was nearly touching his. "You have one more night of wild abandon in you, I can smell it." She paused, inhaling deeply. "And I will have it." Claws slid through his salt and pepper hair as she stroked the back of his head with her free hand, his whole scalp tingled with the gentle, dangerous contact. She then sat back, smiling. "You will not sleep alone this night, even if you do not touch me." She retracted her claws and sipped her drink. This drink, she noticed, was apparently on the house, for the barkeep had wandered off down the bar with a dazed look and did not ask for payment.
.... There is more of this story ...