Mercatur
There was something about the smell of jasmine that appealed to Graendal. Maybe it was the expense of the stuff. Maybe it was the alleged aphrodisiac properties. But whatever it was, Graendal enjoyed the smell as she languished on the back of a large man clad only in the barest scraps of silk.
Huge silk draperies fell across the hall as she watched the acrobats - naked bodies glistening with the jasmine-scented oil in the light - dancing all for her. A small smile from Graendal encouraged them even more.
They adored her, and they always would.
Huge silk draperies fell across the hall as she watched the acrobats - naked bodies glistening with the jasmine-scented oil in the light - dancing all for her. A small smile from Graendal encouraged them even more.
They adored her, and they always would.