Kret's bad mood cannot be lifted, even with the sweet smell of the cinnamon toast that sits upon her plate. The kobold slumps over on the bench at the tavern, having spent part of her earnings on the new traveler's clothing she wore and another portion on this meal. Despite how much people clamor for it, she just can't bring herself to enjoy this tasty treat. Here she is, the first time in her life with the means to support herself, if only for a little bit, and the ennui of her life has come back to her once again. 
When the barmaid comes around to her table, she misses the kobold's hand, raised slightly to signal for the sweet oblivion alcohol provides. When the server disappears into the the crowd, Kret just grumbles and pulls her hood up over her face. Maybe she can sleep right here, instead of wasting her precious little gold on room and board. At least here she doesn't have to worry about being kicked out all undressed once the night shift decides it doesn't want a 'scaly' on the premises. 
So, she falls asleep, on a partially empty stomach, and on a modestly heavy purse, but not heavy enough to get her out of her perpetual distress. 
She dreams of a simpler life. It is a life where she can keep her head down and work an easy job. No one looks at her funny and all the tools at the textile mill are sized just perfectly for her. There's no one there demanding her body or keeping their distance, waiting for some terrible accident to happen, and, best of all, when the day ends, she isn't sleeping on some bench, or curled up in a drainage pipe, but she has her own room, her own bed, with nice warm meals and no one sharing it, save for those she invites herself. 
As she ends her work day and lays down into her bed, a melody drifts through her ears. It is at the same time mournful, yet hopeful. It starts soft, but swells beyond to a beautiful song that brings a tear to her eye. 
A slam on the table jolts her awake. Kret fumbles at her hood and throws it off to find a foaming mug in front of her. The barmaid walks away without saying a word, and Kret shrugs, bringing the drink to her mouth. She notices the crowd around the tavern is quiet, and soon, she realizes why. That melody, the one from her dream, it's still going. The kobold shifts in her seat to face the stage, and she slowly lowers the cup,a foam mustache left upon her snout. 
The man on the stage takes everyone's attentions and pulls them right up against his body. As he sways, Kret feels herself pulled along by his motions, and as he sings, the sadness that has a grip upon her heart relaxes and falls asleep, leaving her leaning in, hands on her cheeks, tail tapping to the tune. She doesn't quite recognize it. Elven, perhaps, but the feeling that his music gives her enthralls her to listen, as it has for the other patrons. 
Once he is done, the young man runs a hand through his long, curling black hair, the softest of smiles graces his lips, which makes his well-groomed mustache twitch upward in a cute way. 
Kret sighs as she watches the man exit the stage with a flourish, and when she tastes the foam, she realizes that she was licking her chops for him. Squeaking, she backs down into her seat, looking down into her lap. 
The murmur of tavern guests picks up again as another singer enters the stage, her voice drowns into background noise among the patrons,and Kret is once again left with cold toast and a mug of ale. She brings the drink to her mouth again, envisioning the bronzed skin shown through his half-unbuttoned white shirt, and giggles slightly at the idea. Can she find happiness in just simply admiring beauty in the world around her?Perhaps giving that a try can't be so bad, but damn...
"Is this seat taken, little one?" A velvety voice speaks up from behind her. 
Kret, not really interested in company, grumbles into her drink. 
"I shall take it as a 'no,' then." The voice responds to her and the bench creaks slightly under the human weight. Kret pulls the drink away, opening her mouth to tell him what for, when her jaw drops. There,sitting right next to her, is that very same bard that had so enraptured her only minutes ago. The kobold scooted over to the side, sitting with her legs straddled on the seat and looking straight at him. "I didn't know it was you!" she gasped. "Please, forgive me!" 
"Forgive you for what, little friend?" the bard asks, holding up his own mug. "For not willing to pull your mouth from such fine spirits? I can hardly blame you." He chugs a prodigious amount, and Kret's eyes widen as little tears of ale roll down over his trimmed beard, his masculine Adam's Apple undulating. Again, her tongue passes over her snout at the sight. 
He lowers his drink, placing the mug down on the table before him as he looks over toward her. He, too, licks his lips, then says. "You also like to have a slight mess when you drink? It is good manners where I come. It shows the owner that their drinks are so enjoyed, we cannot wait to drink them down. I tell you this in the hopes that I may learn a thing or two about your own story, for I can see it in those great big eyes of yours, that you, my friend, have a story to tell. As a weaver of tales, I am more than happy to admire yours. Perhaps," he adds, swirling his finger over the rim of his mug, "You wouldn't mind if you tell me your story back in my room, where there is more privacy, no?"
Kret spits her drink at that, spilling ale over her cloak and onto his tanned, muscled chest. The bard, however, grabs a kerchief and dabs at his skin, his expression not changing as he awaits her response. 
"S-sorry!" she gasps, waving her hands. "I am so sorry! Please forgive me."
"It is no trouble, at all. But if you wish to make less of a scene," he begins, standing up from the table, "perhaps you should take me up on that offer?" 
So, with head hung low and feeling the burning gazes of sympathizers and scorners, Kret follows him, keeping her hood over her head to conceal herself, although it will do her no good, being the only kobold among a sea of humans. 
It's the story of her life... 
Sooner than she realizes, she climbs the stairs and enters into a private room. Though modestly furnished, even having a private chamber is a luxury in such a backwoods town as this. When the latch on the door slides against the lock, it slams with a certain finality that produces a lump in the kobold's throat. This lump only grows as the bard walks past her, pulling his shirt off and tossing it aside. Kret's eyes widen as she takes in the muscles on the bard's back. Though he is no fighter, his form is still chiseled, as if a master artist had created a master work right before her. 
  A drawer closes and Kret shakes her head. Once back in reality, she sees that he has slipped another, clean shirt in the place of the soiled one. "You're not going to keep wearing that stained cloak in here, are you? Please, make yourself comfortable as I listen to your tale." He motions to the bed as he pulls out a chair in front of a small writing desk. 
Kret gulps and fumbles at the clasp of her cloak for a moment,while he reaches into his desk and pulls out a piece of parchment. She unclasps the hook as he dips his quill into the inkwell, and she drops her cloak to the floor once he begins to jot something down. Absently sticking her tongue out once more, she climbs up onto the human-sized bed and collapses onto it, staring up at the ceiling. Maybe if she doesn't look at him, things will go better? 
"Begin wherever you will, my little friend," the bard says. I shall take notes, and who knows, perhaps you shall be the subject of my next piece?" 
Her heart thumps harder, imagining his beautiful voice making a lovely ode to her suffering, turning her into a tragic hero. With a sigh, she spins him her tale. 
  "I have always been alone. From my earliest memories, I have lived among beings very different from myself. At first, I faced scorn for being a short little lizard person, but soon enough, I learned to accept their stares. I found myself work, good work, as a seamstress. It was good, for a time... until the pay couldn't keep up. I had to take night work in a," she pauses, closing her eyes, "different field. That is, until the magic in my blood manifested." She shivers, clutching her chest. "I didn't mean to hurt anyone, but... I could never be there, ever again. 
"I eventually found manor that would accept me as a worker, but the work was hard, and the payment next to nothing. As I lay in the sewers, contemplating my life, I became very close to offering myself as a slave. As a free person, I struggled, yet as someone's property, I would at least be fed and cared for.
"But my boss had other plans for me. He sent me out on an expedition with adventurers. Finally, the magic in my blood could be put to good use, yet..." She rolls on her side, curling up and shaking her head."The mission failed, and... we went our separate ways, leaving me with just a tiny bit of gold, and stuck in a tavern in the middle of nowhere. And now, here I am." 
  The scratching of the quill stops and the bard asks her, "And, did you find any treasures in your adventures? Something unique and powerful?" 
She shook her head. "I wish. No, I'm just a poor and lonely kobold girl, unloved, unfulfilled, and uninteresting." 
"I see..." the bard says. The chair scoots back, and Kret hears his boots drop to the floor. She rolls around and looks up toward him, gasping as he sits on the edge of the bed. "I had no idea, but allow me, little friend, to not leave a kobold girl unfulfilled." 
Her jaw drops wide and her eyes nearly bulge out of her as she scoots to sit up. "Y... you can't possibly..." 
He smirks, his mustache quirking upwards in that alluring way as he unlaces his new shirt. 
Kret pulls her legs up, wrapping her arms around them as she watches, enraptured as he tugs this shirt up over his head, well-toned muscles exposed before her, followed by that wild mane of black hair. She gulps as he crawls forward now, his weight pushing the bed downward. She tumbles back, laying there with him hovering just above her. "I never noticed how beautiful those scales of yours are..." he begins, "a vibrant green, and..." he reaches out for her top, pulling her collar down just slightly. "And that lovely wine. And such a fine texture as well. I must see more." His strong eyes stare into hers, and something screams in joy as she slowly cracks a smile. Reaching down, she grabs the bottom of her top and gently pulls it up, exposing before him her flat, red underbelly. 
  Not a moment after the shirt obscures her vision, he goes in for the attack, leaning in and placing kisses at her abdomen and up along her sensitive scales. Kret gasps into her shirt, writhing around at the feeling of the warm lips, the tingle of his mustache and beard, the attention to detail on her body. It's so... wonderful!
The bard's lips work their way up along her chest, soon planting kisses on almost every part of her red underbelly. Kret shivers, each of those kisses sending a shock of happiness the likes she had never felt before. Never before had one of her partners taken such care to attend to her. They had always dumped off their lusts onto her, and left her with a few coin. This is the complete opposite, and it feels so wonderful. 
His strong hands grab at her top and yank it off, exposing her now to the view of his own topless body. Her heart beats even faster as she sees his form hovering over top of her, that smirk on his lips showing his confidence.
The bard presses those lips down to her once again, kissing her neck. Kret hisses, her tongue flicking out gently. She gasps, feeling his tongue press to her scales, licking over her, taking in the taste of her flesh. He pulls away, licking his lips, and says "never had I seen a woman so in need of this. Before I go any further, you must tell me what you want from me..." 
Kret pushes herself up, resting her bare back upon the cool wall of the inn, her eyes longingly staring into those delightful brown ones of his. She curls her toes on the sheets and takes in a deep breath, saying "I want you... inside me..." 
"That's exactly what I wanted to hear" he said, chuckling as he wraps his arms around her back and pulls her up into his strong embrace. She squeaks as she is carried by him, resting her head upon his chest, her hands hanging onto his shoulders. With one hand wrapped around her back, he reaches down with the other, undoing the buttons on his trousers. With a clink and a thud, they fall to his knees, exposing his erect member before her. She gulps, wondering if it is too big for her little body, so she manages to squeak. "Please be gentle." 
"But of course..." he whispers, unbuttoning the back of her own leggings. He holds her away, and she leans from him to allow him to pull the pants down off of her. Soon, her slit is free for him to see, though the angle also gives her chance to admire the pole that would soon be within her. She giggles nervously at the sight. It had to be one of the bigger she has seen, but her experience made it easy for her to take it, regardless. He moves his hands down to her butt, holding onto her from there, and looking into her eyes, saying nothing. She looks back up to him, smiling, and then nodding. 
He pulls her in close once again, lowering her down onto his member. She gasps when she feels the tip enter through her slit. Her head tilts back and she shudders, feeling him shift as he seeks the proper entrance within her reptilian anatomy. She wiggles her hips, helping him along, until the eager shaft finds its way. 
Kret growls, her neck tilted back, and the bard takes the advantage to kiss upon her exposed throat, his tongue brushing up along the location. He pushes his hips forward, his body moving in a smooth and rehearsed motion. A good singer, he certainly is, but he's also a rather great dancer, too! She hardly has to move as his body undulates, his cock pushing up into her, spreading her walls with its impressive size. 
Her hands move up and down around his arms and she goes in for a taste, her tongue snaking out, pressing to his flesh. The taste of smooth skin and sweat delights her senses. All the while, her core builds up with more and more heat. The happiness that has been bubbling up within her since he first sat down threatens to explode right here and now, but she has to hold back, this has to continue longer. She can't lose herself now, like an eager young girl! 
He apparently senses her coming closeness, since his thrusts become much more pronounced. Unable to fight against his constant attacks, and bouncing on his phallus like the little thing she is, he strikes her in the deepest recesses of her warmth, and soon, she throws her head back,screaming as climax enraptures her entire form! 
The rest of the night is a blur to the kobold, a hot and messy blur, followed by strong, warm arms wrapping around her, pulling the blankets over her body and snuggling in, the musky scent of male filling her nostrils and easing her to sleep. 
The sun filters in through the window in the morning, causing the little naked kobold to squirm and squeeze her eyes. She rolls over to hug her lover, but her hand lands on the bed with a "pomf." She blinks, her eyes adjusting painfully to the lit room to see that she is there alone. She bolts upright, head jerking this way and that, looking for any sign of her lover, but there are none. No stained shirts, no quill and parchment,and no song. 
She gulps, slipping out of the bed and landing on the floor, her toes clicking along as she finds her clothing. She slips back into them, cold from the morning chill, and sighs. Happiness is indeed a fleeting thing for the kobold. At least she had the memories, and the scant savings from her failed foray as an adventurer. She pats her thigh and pauses, the warmth of the night swept away as if cold water was splashed over her face. Her purse with the savings feels unmistakably flatter than usual. She pulls it up and tugs at the lip to open it up. Peering inside, her worst fears are confirmed. 
Yes... he is the opposite of the sailors. He treated her like a woman... and left her without a coin.