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Polite
Right there, that's a sign how polite the House of the Issola could be -- and how much of an Issola Lady Teldra really was.
Dragaera, Teldra/Vlad Taltos. 500 words.
Worksafeish (sex mentioned but offstage).
"You have never lain with a Dragaeran," said Lady Teldra. She was smiling a little, as if set to a duty that was more pleasure than requirement.
Right there, that's a sign how polite the House of the Issola could be -- and how much of an Issola Lady Teldra really was. Any other Dragaeran would have told me that I had never lain with a human; she knew perfectly well that, as far as I was concerned, I had. More remarkably, she cared enough about how I would respond to it that she chose he words with care.
"No," I agreed.
She nodded. She didn't act coy -- well, that wasn't unusual to me, Cawti was never shy either (oh, don't think about her now) --but reached up and took the clasp from her hair, so that it fell in waves of soft brown around her face. The green of her eyes would have been remarkable in a human, and though I know perfectly well that they're quite common for Issola, still at that moment I found them entrancing. She shed the soft green and white of her gown without fanfare.
Dragaerans are tall, have I mentioned? It's not that I haven't had sex with tall girls before, but I've never had sex with someone a foot taller than me, for certain. It was a little intimidating to be sitting in bed, my hand still tingling as it shook off the effects of the Jenoine magic, and to have her stand over me -- she loomed more than I would have expected, for someone so graceful.
"Lady," I said, "this would not be good for your reputation, or mine."
"Your reputation, I think, can be neither helped nor harmed at this juncture," she said. "As for myself, well, I am a professional."
"I know whores," I said. She didn't flinch at the crudeness of the words. "You're no whore."
Smooth, boss, Loiosh said, and sniggered.
Shut up, I replied, and he sniggered again.
"No," she said, "but discretion is a part of my duties, and appropriateness. And I can apply those lessons to my desires as well as my duties." She bent to kiss me. She smelled sweet -- she was wearing some kind of floral perfume, though I don't know the scents of flowers well enough to know which one. "Have faith in me, and my wishes, and my knowledge of my own work, as you have faith in your own work."
"I do," I said, at last, drawing her against me, and though she was tall and strange as Dragaerans are strange, her skin was warm and smooth in a way that was familiar. Her mouth was warm as a hearth, her hand gentle where it splayed across my cheek. I slipped my arms around her waist, and she shifted to keep from putting weight on me, braced on her own hip, her hair falling across my shoulder. "I'm a professional, too."