Stephanie's elegant head was thrown back, her facial features a tortured expression of both agony and pleasure. Her chest heaved with every breath, the muscles in her arms straining to keep her in a semi-upright position. A woman crouched deviously in between her slick thighs and tended to her throbbing sex, head bobbing with the furious motions of her eager tongue. Suddenly a single square of light fell upon the two, briefly illuminating the intoxicated expression painted upon Stephanie's pretty face. Someone cleared their throat, and Lindsay inclined her head from where she lay, almost as if in boredom.
          "Yes?"
          Jordan, to her credit, looked equally unruffled considering the circumstances. The woman lingered patiently in the doorway, as if half-expecting Lindsay to finish up her writhing task at hand. Instead, the blond seductress slithered away from her prize, and Stephanie sagged backwards onto the bed as if her strings had been cut.
          "I won't ask," Jordan said demurely, the only indication that she had seen anything at all being the curious arch of her eyebrows. Almost as quickly her queer expression smoothed over, and Lindsay idly wondered what it would be like to see that military facade crack and fall away completely, just once.
          "What do you need, Jordan?" Lindsay queried, although not unkindly. Her nightgown - if you could call it that - clung to her perfectly sculpted features, leaving little to the imagination. Her nipples were dark and flushed from her previous excitement, and she threw one smoldering glance back over to her exhausted playmate, just to watch her squirm.
          "Lord Vranphile has requested your presence," Jordan explained, and Lindsay clicked her tongue and gave a little disapproving frown. With the whisper of a smile, the former General continued. "However, if you're in the middle of something, I suppose I could tell him to wait..."
          Lindsay grinned. "A sense of humor? You amaze me every day." She almost seemed to consider it, the idea of someone hot and wanton too delicious not to consider. Loyalty won, however, and she gave a distasteful sigh. "Business before pleasure, I suppose." And she followed Jordan back into the hall, leaving Stephanie disoriented and breathless for her return.

---

          "You are dismissed, Jordan."
          The warrior woman gave a curt nod before bowing gracefully out of her Lord's chambers. Vranphile appeared to be getting ready for bed when the two arrived, sitting on the edge of his enormous bed, not quite undressed. He picked up the glasses off of his pallid nose, folding them neatly and putting them on his bedside table. Lindsay stood before him, shifting between her left and right foot. They felt cold and uncomfortable on his dark wood floor.
          "What do you know of legends, Lindsay?" He inquired, pulling the tie loose from his throat.
          "I am very uneducated on the matter," Lindsay answered honestly, shrugging her slender shoulders. "Why?"
          "Simply a curiosity I was hoping you'd indulge," Vranphile answered, looking up with an enigmatic smile. "Do you read?"
          "No." Lindsay said, inwardly uncomfortable. Although she was well aware that her Lord had a firm belief in gaining power and knowledge from various texts, she did not share the same faith. Lindsay couldn't read - she had never been taught, and the desire was beyond her. To her, power was acquired through appearance, and knowledge, through the manipulation of minds. The two of them, although working together, were on two very different frequencies. She had always pretended to play along, however.
          "Ah." This didn't seem to bother Vranphile at all; if anything, he seemed pleased. "I think I shall need your assistance with something, Lindsay, if you will donate to me some of your time."
          "I live to serve you," Lindsay murmured, taking the hand of her Lord and kneeling down on one knee. She kissed the pale knuckles of his hands, lips drawn lovingly over each slender finger. She was acutely aware of the monarch's pause, and the slight irregulation in his otherwise calm and even breathing.
          "It can wait until morning," he whispered softly, pulling her to her feet. She sighed into the nape of his neck as he lifted her gown up, pulling him into his lap. Lindsay hissed as Vranphile pushed himself into her, using one hand to grip her hips tightly while the other traced her curves lovingly in exquisite torture. She mewled in approval as he shifted, pinning her beneath him. With Vranphile, it was always strange magic; and this time, oddly subservient, she let him play puppeteer with her.