She walked.
The lane noticed her immediately.
Not with the normal noticing — the professional, calculating assessment of a district that evaluates newcomers for economic potential — but with the 'other' kind of noticing.
The kind that happens when something enters a space that the space was not built for.
The three men against the north wall — who had been making arrangements for a second round with the woman in the red dress — all turned.
Looked.
The man with his hand on the red-dress woman's hip felt something happen.
Specifically: the thing that had been very much present thirty seconds ago was no longer present.
He looked down.
Looked up.
Looked at the woman walking down the lane with the short skirt and the loose bodice and the leather lead and the specific, overwhelmed expression of someone who has been brought somewhere they were not prepared for.
His cock was limp.
Not tired-limp. Not satisfied-limp.
