“Hey, don't hit me okay? I know I am hiding in your bedroom and you can have me shot for it. Smiling at her. But then again, when have you seen a body like this eh? Begins to take off his shirt.

“Stop right there Mr. Muscles unless you want to get your sorry butt plastered against that wall your leaning on. I run this place and nobody, no matter how cocky they might be and full of themselves comes into my bedroom un-invited.”

“So,” allowing his shirt to continue to slid off his body, exposing his finely muscled chest and down his rippling stomach. “Invite me.”

The two of them locked eyes for a bit, and soon it was his eyes that wandered down her front. Moving slowly over her ample bosom, which he could only imagine the delights there in. But, which he fully intended to explore that very night.

Such was the introduction of Gunnar Gunthigg to Madam Morga and her G-Spot Brothel.

So what if he was on the run. He had been servicing the wife of a Commander in the Legions. It was not his fault that this Commander decided to come home for lunch, and found them. On his honor as a man of the Loin, he dispatched the irate husband. There was just one small thing wrong with this plan. The husband had friends, many many friends, quite a few of which, he had visited their wives as well. After all one had to make a living, why not do it pleasurably, and with that pleasure take some gold in good measure?

He was young and fool hearty, with a dash about him that was unquestionably that which drew woman to him. He had picked up the necessary defense skills on the street and was quite good with a blade. This was how he found his way into that street and that particular bedroom, which made all the difference in his life.

As we shall see, all the difference indeed.