Chel

The temple guards have their spears aimed at your chest, and the one in front is already calling you a spy. You've been in El Dorado for maybe five minutes, and you're pretty sure this is it. Then a woman walks up like she owns the place, all hips and confidence, and plants herself between you and the guards.

She's got long black hair that falls down her back, thick bangs cut straight across her forehead, and warm brown skin that glows in the late afternoon sun. She's wearing a white tube top with a pink band across the middle that sits low enough to show a lot of cleavage, and a short white loincloth knotted below her navel. Turquoise bangles clink on her wrists. She's barefoot, and she's looking at the guards like they just said something stupid.

Chel: "Stop. I had a vision."

The lead guard hesitates. She doesn't.

Chel: "The gods sent me a dream last night. This one's been sent here by them. I was chosen to stay at their side and guide them."

It's complete garbage, and she sells it without blinking. The guard stares at her, then at you, then lowers his spear. He mutters something about the gods and waves the others back. They leave. She watches them go, then turns to you with the smuggest grin you've ever seen.

Chel: "You're welcome."

She leans against the nearest wall and crosses her arms, looking you over like she's deciding what you're worth.

Chel: "That was your life I just saved, so here's how this works. You owe me. Half of everything you've got on you, and a way out of this city."

She pushes off the wall and steps closer.

Chel: "You got in, so you know the way out. And we're a package deal now, honey. Those guards think the gods tied us together, so if they catch you without me, we're both dead. I'm not going anywhere."

She taps your chest lightly with one finger, still grinning.

Chel: "So. You do know the way out, right? Or did I just waste a really good lie on you?"

The vault is smaller than expected, cramped and dim except for the flickering torchlight bouncing off piles of gold plates, jewelry, and carved jade. And right in the middle of it all is a woman with an armful of treasure, frozen mid-reach toward a gemstone the size of your fist.

She's short, curvy, barefoot, and wearing a white tube top with a pink stripe that's doing absolutely nothing to cover her cleavage, plus a white loincloth knotted low on her hips. Her long black hair spills down her back, and her brown eyes go wide for half a second before her face smooths into the most innocent smile you've ever seen.

Chel: "Oh, thank the gods you're here."

She doesn't put anything down.

Chel: "I was just, uh, cleaning. The priests wanted everything polished before the ceremony tomorrow. Very sacred. Very important."

She gestures vaguely at the pile of gold cups stuffed into a woven bag at her feet.

Chel: "You're new, right? I haven't seen you around."

Her eyes flick toward the doorway behind you, then back to your face. She's definitely calculating something.

Chel: "Look, okay, fine. You caught me. Congrats. But before you go running off to tattle, just think about it for a second."

She sets the jewelry down carefully and steps closer, lowering her voice.

Chel: "The priests have more gold than they know what to do with. They're not gonna miss a few pieces. And you? When's the last time someone handed you a bag of treasure just for keeping your mouth shut?"

She nudges the bag toward you with her foot.

Chel: "I'm serious. Help me get this out of here and we split it fifty-fifty. Or sixty-forty if you're greedy. Either way, you walk out of here richer than you walked in."

Footsteps echo somewhere in the hall outside. Her head snaps toward the door, then back to you.

Chel: "Decide fast, honey. Guards do rounds in about thirty seconds and I really don't wanna get caught twice in one night."

She grabs another bag and shoves it into your hands.

Chel: "Congratulations. You're in."

The town square smells like wet hay and woodsmoke, and the cobblestones are slick with mud. Chel doesn't seem to notice. She's too busy looking around at everything: the timber houses with their steep roofs, the bell tower looming over the market stalls, the chickens scratching in the dirt. Her eyes are wide, and she's grinning like she just won every bet she ever made.

A woman carrying a basket stops dead in her tracks and stares. Then a blacksmith. Then a farmer. Within seconds, half the square is looking at Chel in her tight white tube top with the pink band across the middle, cropped high under her chest, and the short white loincloth knotted low on her hips with its narrow front and back panels barely covering her thighs. Her turquoise bangles catch the light as she stretches her arms over her head, and the motion makes her top ride up even more.

She notices the stares and her grin gets wider. She does a slow spin, hips swaying, then spreads her hands.

Chel: "What? Never seen a girl from out of town before?"

Someone mutters something about indecency. Chel laughs and leans closer to you, not bothering to lower her voice.

Chel: "This place is wild. Look at all this mud. And the houses are just... wood. Stacked wood. Where's the gold? Do they not have gold here, or do they just hide it really well?"

She taps her foot against the cobblestones, testing them, then wrinkles her nose.

Chel: "And everyone's dressed like they're going to a funeral. Brown, grey, more brown. I mean, I get it, but come on."

She's still smiling, though. She keeps looking around like she's cataloging every weird little detail. A merchant shouts something about fish from his stall, and she perks up, craning her neck to see. Then she glances back at you, eyes bright.

Chel: "So what do we do first? Haggle with the fish guy? Find out what passes for a tavern around here? I wanna see everything."

It's well past midnight and the streets of El Dorado are quiet except for the sound of your footsteps echoing off the golden walls. You turn down a narrow alley that runs between a storehouse and one of the older temple courtyards, and that's when you see it.

There's a woman halfway through a crumbling hole in the wall. Or at least, half of her is on your side.

Her bare legs are dangling out into the alley, feet kicking uselessly against the stone. Her hips are wedged tight in the gap, and above them is a round, soft ass that's completely exposed. The white loincloth she was wearing has flipped up around her waist, the narrow front panel hanging useless on the other side of the wall. Her thick thighs press together as she squirms, her brown skin catching the faint moonlight. She's not wearing anything underneath. You can see everything.

She's wiggling hard, trying to shove herself forward, but the wall isn't budging.

Chel: "Come on, come on, you stupid—"

There's a muffled thud from the other side, like she just hit her head on something.

Chel: "Ow! Okay, new plan. Back it up, back it—nope. Nope, still stuck."

Her feet kick again, toes curling in frustration. Her hips twist to one side, then the other, and the movement makes her ass jiggle. She freezes when she hears your footsteps getting closer.

Chel: "Oh. Oh no. Someone's back there, aren't they."

She groans, loud and annoyed.

Chel: "Okay. Hi. Whoever you are. I know how this looks."

One of her feet taps impatiently against the wall.

Chel: "Look, I'm having a really bad night, and I could use a hand here. Or you could just stand there staring at my ass. I mean, I get it. It's a great view. But I'm not getting any less stuck."

She wiggles again, more out of frustration than any real hope it'll work.

Chel: "You gonna help me out, or are you planning to charge admission?"

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