That was how she found herself staking out a designated alleyway, in disguise with her hair bound and covered in a garish red wig, her bosom on display as she pretended to ply her wares.
She knew Starling was close, he was always watching over her in these situations, his protective streak fighting against the thrill of catching their quarry.
Helen knew she was perfectly safe, and of course, anyone who actually propositioned her would be hurried along post haste.
No, she was not the bait, thank heavens, just the watcher, keeping her eye on the goings on in the street and watching for suspicious activity.
Various other ladies of the night were stationed along the walkways, as was the way of things, as well as innumerable street urchins who ducked and weaved their way through the crowds, using any distraction to lift a coin from a purse, or begging a bite to eat from one of the rare kind-hearted harlots.
There was a particular boy that had caught Helen’s eye, Abraham was his name, and she had been watching him these past nights. Of indiscernible age, eight years or less, the lad was quick-witted, his dirty blonde hair distinctive under the cap he wore. The boy would bait the lords that passed into a game of chance on the street. Somehow he had procured a pair of dice, and Helen had no doubt that it was weighted in his favour.
No, there was no doubt that this was a sharp one, who used his head before resorting to pickpocketing or the like.
Starling had taken a bit of a shine to the lad, often stopping to play a game with him at the beginning of the night, making sure his pockets and his belly were full before he started their work in earnest.
Neither of them liked to see the young ones lingering on the streets too late, terrible things could happen.
A crazy idea had been stirring in the back of her mind, and she wondered if tonight might be the last chance she would have to ask Starling what he thought.
Speak of the devil, at that moment a dark form broke away from the alley beside her, a distinctive cocky gait moving towards her in the dim light.
“‘Why, hello there, little dove,” the man grinned, tipping his hat at her as if they were not intimately acquainted, those arresting blue eyes flashing at her cheekily. “And what a fine sight you are, standing here like a goddess under the lamplight, waiting for me.”
Helen fought back a smile, swatting at him playfully with her reticule. “Begone with you, sir. I am busy,” she sniffed, enjoying the game more than she ought.
“Now now, have mercy on a man,” Starling smirked, stepping close and crowding her back against the wall behind her.
A woman across the street glanced their way and rolled her eyes, but quickly turned her attention elsewhere. She had been well paid to do so, anyway.
Starling spanned Helen’s waist with his hands, smoothing his palms down over her hips to cup her bottom.
“Red suits you,” he whispered, reaching up to finger a ringlet that framed her face. “Like Helen of Troy, I fall at your feet.”
Helen sighed, amused despite herself, enjoying the feel of his warm weight against her after the long lonely night keeping watch.
“Are we giving up the chase for the night?” she asked, running her hand down his arm, enjoying the strength of his body beneath her palm.
Starling smiled, shaking his head as he dipped close to breathe in her scent. “No. The miscreant was caught red-handed and is already on his way to the station, I imagine.”
Helen smiled, arching her neck instinctively as his lips brushed her there. “That is most excellent news. As much as I enjoy joining you on your adventures, this particular case has been quite a bore, since all I had to do was stand around.”
“Stand around and look pretty, yes,” grinned Starling, lifting his head to glance around before manoeuvring her deeper into the shadows of the alleyway.
He pressed his body close, lifting her one thigh up and around his hip, Starling stepped between her legs. “Perhaps I can make the night somewhat more interesting for you, my sweet Helen.”
The feel of him already stiff and eager for her against her belly sent a shiver of illicit desire down her spine.
“We shouldn’t,” Helen murmured, even as Starling cupped her bottom and lifted her against the wall, his breath already harsh with excitement as the heat of his sinful mouth trailed along the line of her jaw.
“Oh, no, we really should,” he replied, pushing her skirts out of the way and grinding himself decadently between her thighs, the rough plaster of the wall at her back a delicious contrast to the fiery passion that flared so hotly between them, as it always did.
“You are a scoundrel,” Helen gasped, reaching between them to free him from his fall, the smooth weight of his arousal pulsing and thickening as she grasped him tight and worked him roughly, loving the way he shuddered and groaned under her touch.
“Fuck, I need to be inside you,” Starling growled, crudely spitting onto his fingers and reaching between her thighs to slicken her already damp folds, his thumb working her clitoris ruthlessly as she handled him in return.
Soon,oh so soon,she was gasping with need, the sound of people passing by their hiding place adding to the thrill.
Helen raised her hands to Starling’s shoulder and clung on, wrapping her thighs around his hips as he fitted himself finally to the aching hole at her core and drove his way inside, sliding home with a hiss as he lifted and held her up against the wall, filling her body, her senses, with his scent, his groans, his weight as it both shielded her and teased her into needing more.
