Now you want to blame him for your fucked up life. You have six hours to get out of here.”Connie started crying and ran out of the kitchen.“Thank ...ou for having my back George, but you were a little harsh don’t you think? I mean Connie is still your daughter.”“She is not my daughter.” He explained; “Her mother decided to fuck around and got pregnant before we were married. I never adopted her. I do love her as if she was mine, but she has her mother’s stubborn stupidity.”“Does she know. .. care to he...”You ignore him, grabbing the iron handle and pulling the tavern door open. You enter, leaving the useless beggar to the storm.The wind whips around you as you enter, disturbing the occupants inside. The room quiets, and they all look to you, curious who interrupted their drinking. You ignore their annoyed gazes and find an unoccupied bench, and sit down.The room slowly rises in volume again as the patrons resume their bantering and crude drunken humor.A mature tavern wench. He tried to shift and hide it in the towel, but it was just too obvious. She looked at his cock straining against the towel, then up at him. She continued to dress his leg, then slowly stood and patted his shoulder. With relief, he brought the towel to cover himself more as she moved away. She readied her bath, and looked at him. He nodded and stepped outside on the porch. He closed the door behind him and sat on the edge of the wooden platform. He could hear the water splash as she stepped. He put on a pot of coffee – extra strong, the way she liked it - and lit several wide candles – the kind that collected little pools of really hot wax in them. Then he got the dartboard out, hung it on the wall and stuck the handful of darts he found into it.When the coffee was ready, he poured Béla a cup and, picking up a lit candle, carried the coffee and the candle into the bedroom. Béla was lying on her stomach with her covers kicked off so that only one leg was partially covered. Her other.