Finn
An hour later and I'm walking through the tavern, passing through the crowd and earning a few looks as I do so.
Not for anything bad, I'm just sexy. Especially in my true identity.
My dress has been swapped out for a pair of men's pants and a shirt. My tits are taped down with a long strip of leather so it looks like I have really nice pecks under my shirt. My sandals are replaced with boots, a belt with a small curved sword circles my waist, and my blond hair is tied up in a traditional men's knot. There's a light smear of charcoal on my upper lip and my jaw to give the impression of stubble. It wouldn't hold up under scrutiny, but in the darkness of the tavern and the festival, I was just another young man who's balls hadn't dropped yet.
And while I'm still not as tall or as physically fit as an average man, I am better looking than most and they know it.
Although if they knew that Fiona the barmaid was really Finn the Casanova, I'd probably be beaten and cast out of the village. Being the way that I am isn't strictly forbidden, but if the wrong person decides to make a big deal about it, then the rest of the village usually follows suit.
Which is why I'm careful to only be Finn when there's a festival. There's a smaller chance of anyone recognizing me as Fiona.
I make it out of the tavern without incident and step into the cold night air. Music and the smell of food dance on the wind, swirling around me and pulling me towards the village square and the festival.
My boots thump on the cobblestone path, joined by a dozen other people. Some are by themselves like me, others are being dragged by their parents and some walk arm in arm, taking their time.
A wave of envy washes over me as I watch them and I wonder what it must be like to have someone, anyone, that is just yours. That loves only you, and loves you for who you truly are and not who you pretend to be.
I shake my head and turn my attention to the stones under my boots. It does no good to think like that. Nobody would ever love me like that. Perhaps Fiona could find love, but Finn.. he couldn't. Not in this village or any that I know of.
No, there's no point in thinking of a spouse. I'm perfectly happy as I am.
"Perfectly happy," I mutter to myself.
"Doesn't seem like it," a soft voice says next to me. I jump slightly and turn to find a rather attractive woman walking next to me. "Sorry," she laughs when she sees my startled expression. "Didn't mean to scare you."
"You didn't," I huff, deepening my voice. "I just.. didn't see you there."
"Didn't you?" She pouts teasingly. "Normally everyone sees me."
I glance over her, taking in her smooth skin, almond eyes and dark hair. She is beautiful and she clearly knows it, judging by how much of her cleavage is on display. It's a trick I know well, having used it while serving to get tips.
"I'm not looking for a whore," I tell her firmly.
She hooks her arm around mine and says easily, "good thing I'm off duty tonight then."
"I'm still not looking," I say again.
And in truth I wasn't looking for any company tonight. I'd grown weary of the back alley fucks that satisfy my bodily needs but leave my soul feeling empty.
"Neither am I," she tells me. "I'm simply looking for an escort to the festival. Maybe someone to dance with and make it known that I'm there with someone so that the brutes leave me alone."
I start to shake my head, "I'm not the one-,"
"I'll make you a deal," she interrupts me. "If I can guess what you do for a living, then you have to escort me tonight. But if I can't figure it out by the time we get to the square, then I'll leave you to your sulking. Deal?"
"I wasn't sulking," I mutter. Although part of me was definitely sulking, and that same part of me wants nothing more to do with this girl, I find myself agreeing to her deal. "You have a deal, but you'll never guess it."
Her other hand goes to my arm and squeezes my bicep, "firm but not too overly muscled. You're not a farmhand or a seaman." She slides her hand down my arm until she's sliding over my palm, "calluses yet well maintained nails. Your clothes are worn but of good quality, so either you got them secondhand or they've seen some travel. You're young and handsome, yet I see no wedding ring or any other symbol of a spouse. There's no obvious sign of a deformation and you speak clearly. Your reluctance to associate with a whore tells me that you're not used to such women so you're probably a virgin."
She pauses as if waiting for me to argue that point but I keep my face impassive. She's almost spot on about everything so far, but that was all generic observations.
"But then again maybe you just don't like to kiss and tell," she continues. "Your hair is long, so it's not necessarily a dangerous job, so you're not a warrior or a squire."
"You're running out of time," I tell her, motioning to the growing lights ahead of us. "Ready to guess yet?"
"There's time," she replies quickly. "The way you walk indicates that you're sure of yourself. Cocky, but also aware of your surroundings. The sword on your belt is short, for closer combat so it's mainly for self defense. And that I'm turn implies that you are around unsavory creatures for most of your time."
We reach the square and step off to one side, "times up."
She grins, "if I had to guess, I'd say that you're an inn keeper or you work at a tavern."
I blink in surprise, "how did you figure that out?"
"Am I right?"
Part of me felt like lying to her, but looking into her excited eyes, I just couldn't. "Barkeeper, to be exact, but you got close enough." And although I did slightly lie, she had gotten close enough.
"Yes!" She exclaims as she claps her hands.
"Deals a deal," I tell her, a small smile forming on my lips. Her joy was contagious and before I knew it, I was offering her my hand, "a deal is a deal. Shall we dance miss..?"
"Clara," she answers, placing her hand in mine. "And you are?"
"Finn."
"Well Finn," she grins. "Let's dance."
And against my better judgment, I let Clara drag me to to the dance floor.