A NIGHT TO REMEMBER [1]

Taren pushed open the door to his modest home, the creak of the hinges announcing his arrival.

His small daughter, a bright-eyed girl of about four, came running to him with an excited squeal.

"Papa! Papa! You're home!" she cried, her voice filled with pure joy. She threw herself at his legs, hugging him tightly.

Taren patted her head absentmindedly.

"Yes, yes, I'm home, my little blossom," he said, his mind already elsewhere.

He glanced at his wife, who was standing by the kitchen table, wiping her hands on her apron.

"Will you eat before you go out again?" she asked, her voice tired but hopeful.

Taren shook his head.

"No, I'll eat wherever I'm going. I have some important business to take care of tonight."

His wife frowned slightly but didn't press the issue.

"Alright, but don't stay out too late," she said, her eyes filled with a mixture of concern and resignation.

"I won't," Taren lied smoothly, bending down to kiss his daughter on the head.

"Be good for your mother, alright?"

"Yes, Papa!" the girl chirped, her face beaming with innocence.

Without another word, Taren left the house, stepping into the cool night air.

The streets of Claire City were alive with the sounds of evening revelry.

He made his way through the bustling market district, eventually arriving at the brightly lit entrance of the Velvet Rose, the city's most infamous brothel.

Beautiful women lounged outside, their clothes revealing just enough to entice.

Taren's grin widened as he inhaled the scent of perfume and anticipation.

"Tonight, I'll feast like a king," he muttered to himself, striding confidently into the establishment.

Inside, the atmosphere was one of debauchery and excess.

The scent of alcohol mingled with the sweet smell of incense, and the sound of laughter and flirtatious whispers filled the air.

Taren quickly spotted his usual group of friends at a corner table, already well into their cups.

"Taren! Over here!" one of them called out, waving him over.

Taren sauntered over, his grin never fading.

"Evening, lads," he greeted, taking a seat. He ordered a round of drinks, waving over one of the scantily clad servers.

His friends eyed him curiously. "You seem unusually cheerful tonight, Taren," one of them remarked.

"Busy day?"

Taren smirked, thinking of the bag of gold coins he had left at home.

"You could say that. Had a lot of... business to take care of."

One of his friends, a burly man named Hrothgar, laughed loudly.

"Business, he says! Taren, you've never had a real job in your life!"

The others joined in the laughter, but Taren's smile didn't falter.

Instead, he stood up and shouted, "Drinks on me tonight, boys! Everything's on my tab!"

The room erupted in cheers, even the drunken patrons at the bar joining in the celebration.

Taren's friends looked at him in astonishment.

"Bastard, how are you going to pay for all this?" one of them asked, still chuckling.

With a flourish, Taren pulled out a small bag of gold coins, amounting to 1,000. The sight of the glittering coins silenced his friends, their eyes widening in disbelief.

"Where did you get that?" Hrothgar demanded, leaning in closer.

Taren shrugged nonchalantly. "A lucky break," he said, not wanting to reveal the true source of his sudden wealth. He wasn't about to share the story of how he tricked the Astarot family members.

Before anyone could question him further, Taren found himself surrounded by the women of the brothel, their hands roaming over his body.

One particularly voluptuous woman, wearing a see-through dress that left little to the imagination, settled herself on his lap.

"You're a generous man," she purred, running her fingers through his hair.

'I can feel her smooth ass,'Taren thought as he felt his pants bulging.

Taren chugged his beer, a satisfied grin on his face. "I try," he replied, his words slurring slightly from the alcohol.

His friends, seeing Taren's good fortune, were quickly surrounded by women as well.

The room buzzed with energy, laughter, and the clinking of glasses. The party was in full swing, and Taren was at the center of it all.

A woman with fiery brown hair and a mischievous smile leaned over to Taren.

"What's your secret, handsome? How did you come into all this money?" she asked, her fingers tracing circles on his chest.

Taren smirked, looking around the room.

"Let's just say I know how to take advantage of opportunities when they come my way," he said cryptically, eliciting giggles from the women around him.

Hrothgar raised his glass, a broad grin on his face.

"To Taren, the luckiest bastard we know!" he toasted.

The room echoed with cheers, and Taren basked in the attention. He glanced at the women surrounding him, each vying for his attention.

"Life is good," he thought, his grin widening as he chugged another beer.