Her bodice was half-open. Not torn — worked loose, the laces pulled with the patient, practiced efficiency of men who had done this before in exactly this alley.
One guard had both hands at her waist from behind, fingers curling into the hem of her skirt with the slow upward creep of something that had decided it wasn't in a hurry. Another was in front, his thumb tracing the edge of her exposed neckline while he smiled at her with the specific smile of a man who knows no one is coming.
The third stood with his back to the alley entrance.
His cock was in his hand.
Already hard. Already out, the crude, heavy length of it pointed at the woman while he stroked himself with the leisurely confidence of someone warming up.
"Please—" Her voice came out small and pressed-flat and mortified. "Please, sir, my husband— he's waiting for me at the— please just let me—"
"Your husband," the front guard said, pleasantly, "is exactly why you're here. Should've kept the fees current."
