Leaves crackled and skittered down the street, chased by the wind. The swirling browns and oranges piled in the sewage being thrown out of the windows, waiting fo the coming storm to wash it away.

The hartlots bared their chests to the passing men, with painted red lips taunting them; the villagers called out wagers, hoping for last minute sales before the rain washed them all out.
As the first droplets fell silently from the sky, the whores snatched up the men, and the villagers closed down their shops and booths to head home.

The street was soon quiet and empty, save the patter from the rain, and a different kind of droplet.

The hartlot stepped out of the alleyway and let the rain wash over her face and body. The red painted on her sensual lips dissolved, dark curly hair cascaded over her shoulders, framing her thin shoulders and big, green eyes. She blinked and allowed her tattered, blue dress to mold to her body, revealing full breasts and slightly disstended belly.