"Nope, no, nah, not a chance in hell, Michael."

A chorus of quiet laughs accompany the sight of the huge man in front of me repeatedly bowing his scarred head. "Please, Sera, you're the only one I could ask on such short notice. Just one night, that's all. Name your price and I'll double it." If you didn't know what to look for, this guy would seem like a pretty pathetic tavern owner instead of one of the most renowned adventurers in Morhaine.

Of course, the same could be said for me, whose short dark-skinned figure and massive breasts would seem to fit better on the corner of some street corner than on the side of a mountain, fighting some eldritch horror or fire-breathing dragon. But the two of us, a few years ago, were doing exactly that. Now I gotta come back to this?

My gaze, heated enough to match any dragon from the past, falls on the skimpy maid uniform Michael has placed on the table. I mean, this damn thing is less a uniform and more some prostitute's dress. There's not enough fabric here to cover up either my chest or thighs on their own, and this guy expects me to try putting it on? Despite how much I respect Michael, my voice is cold as a glacier when I say, "Unless you're sitting on a king's vault of gold, I suggest you slip it on yourself before I decide somewhere worse to put it."

Michael straightens up to his full height, towering over me like some slab of muscle; a lovable slab of muscle though, since he couldn't hurt the hair on a goblin's backside. "It ain't that bad, really. I know it looks bad right now, but none of the other girls ever complained."

"That's because you decided to hire a bunch of girls from the brothel that closed down. I've got too much respect for myself to start dressing up like a Capital prostitute. Um, no offense, Laila," I add, shooting an apolegetic glance towards one of the other elves currently in the room with us.

Laila just waves a hand my way, not bothered in the slightest by my comment. Having been a literal prostitute in the Capital, it's likely she prefers the tavern's uniform over her old attire, to say nothing of the much less racist population of Rivermeet. "Come on, Sera, I think it would look great on you. At the very least, it would be nice to see you wear something frilly for once, instead of all those 'battle suits' you keep coming back with," she replies. Almost unconsciously, she draws a slender hand through golden locks as she leans against the wall. Her body, almost as curvy as my own, seems so damn lewd in that skimpy maid uniform. The skirt doesn't even cover half of her thigh, and I'm pretty sure she'd slip out the top if she breathed a little too deep.

I glance down at my leather attire, which looks perfectly functional and normal to me. Sure it's stained here and there, but dirt never hurt nobody, right? "Look, I became an adventurer so I didn't have to bother with, uh, stuff like that. I love the road, and the dangers, and the stories I get to experience. I got a reputation to uphold now, one that'd be torn to shreds if anyone saw me wearing this," I growl out. With the maid uniform shaking in my fist, it seems even smaller than before. How the hell did Michael manage to get someone to make this in the first place?

The big guy grimaces at my tone. One of his huge hands rubs at the back of his head as he says, "Please Sera, just this one time. Eve can't work with the baby on the way, and though I can't thank Laila and the girls for their help when they can," he pauses to throw a gracious look at the ex-whores, who all return his smile, "they have their own lives late in the evening. I just need someone to cover the late shift until lights out, and I can find someone tomorrow full-time. No one else can keep up with the demand tonight, not until I can start training them."

Ah, damn it all big guy, your little pout gives puppy dogs a run for their money. My eyes fall onto the thin fabric in my hand again before I let out a deep sigh. "Fine, fine, just stop begging already. If you really need the help, I'll do it, but just this once alright? And only if Laila helps me, since I haven't been a tavern server for a couple hundred years now."

Michael seems almost happy enough to burst into song, but he just nods instead, knowing how much I must hate this situation. "Thanks a lot, Sera. The girls here will help you get into uniform, and you won't need to do more than carry food and drinks to the table, they can handle cleaning up. If you need anything, drop by the bar and let me know." With one last bowing of his head, he leaves the room to give me some privacy.

***

Half an hour later, and feeling like a complete fool, I finally emerge from the tavern's back room. Every single step, I can feel my tits bouncing like crazy since I couldn't find a thin enough bra to slip under the fabric, and whenever I turn, the skirt flips up with a mind of its own. If I don't end up flashing my ass at half the village, it'll be a miracle. A final shifting of the white and black maid uniform gets it settled enough for my tastes, and I turn to glower at Laila. "Okay, I got this damn thing on. What's next?"

The blonde elf gives me a radiant smile in return. "For now, why don't you just greet the guests as they come in? You can watch us work for a while to get a feel for the job, and I'll help you through some of the other stuff later."

"You want me to let people see me like this?" A blush is creeping onto my face already.

"Well, you can either work up front or you can join the rest of us upstairs, dear."

I'm already shaking my head. "I'll pass. So I need to greet people, like, how?"

Laila flashes me a thumbs-up and says, "Just wing it, dear. Your blushing face is so cute right now, I'm certain they won't care what you say!" She darts away before I can reply. Impressive, honestly, I couldn't move half that quick in this damn uniform.

Taking a deep breath, I make my way to the tavern's entrance, where the huge sign proclaiming the "Silver Fawn" is hanging. To my utter embarrassment, there's already someone there waiting to enter. Gods, just strike me down before I make a fool of myself.