Cyrine can't help but smile as the stranger turns and leaves the room.  While being fully nude and pinned by a beautiful woman wasn’t totally new to her life, it didn’t happen nearly often enough.  She take's  a tiny bit of satisfaction in the mans awkward mumbling as he exits. Waving again and biting back a giggle as she turns her attention back to her new 'friend'.<br/><br/>This was a game. A wondrous ,glorious game of wits between the captain of the ship and her self.  There was an unspoken clarity the moment the woman sauntered past her seemingly un-phased by the fact Cyrine was trying to stuff her self into a cabinet, that this would be a game of wits- and hell of an interesting game of wits at that. If it wasn't a game and Cyrine was just a presumptuous fool, she would have to resign to stop drinking before mid day.<br/><br/>However, the simple act of touch, the timeless dance of the hunter and hunted, and the ability for the two roles to switch within a split second, was all far to enticing a game to say ‘no’ to.<br/><br/>Cyrine arches her back, and in the process forces her bare and still soaked breasts in to the smaller womans. She inhales deeply on the stick of obscura, the smoke fills her lungs and pushes her already heightened sense of touch even further. The warmth of the water, the even warmer flesh of the other woman, every nerve ending in her body felt as if it was aflame in an uncontrollable burn.  She beams as her fingers dance outward, making feather light contact with the sensitive skin of Anastasias sides, drawing her hands downwards, and eventually around to the crest of the womans tail.  She toys with the strong appendage for a moment  as she leans in to place her lips next to the captains ear, “I can  bring perfection to my work on my own terms.” Her hand reaches out now, to roughly grasp the flesh of the captains backside.<br/><br/>“As for freely given inspiration..” She presses her warm lips against the soft flesh of the other womans ear, while her free hand grazes the horns atop her head, “That’s where<i>you</i>come in..” the words are a deep, needy purr.<br/><br/>Her lips are only millimeters from the captains flesh as they move down the womans neck, the warm breath/smoke escaping them combined with their mutual heighten senses mocks the sensation of slowly moving trail of fire.  She grabs a firm handful of Anastasias backside once more  as she tilts her head questioningly, “Surely this patron of yours is not the<i>only</i>reason for your ‘depravity’ Miss D’Crux?” The use of the formal name in such an informal setting gets the remembrancer grinning wickedly once again.<div class="messageTextEndMarker"> </div>