<div class="floatleft">(https://elliquiy.com/elluiki/images/6/6a/ONB_-_Wyatt_-_Andrea.jpg)</div><br/><strong>Name:  Andrea Follete (https://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=266077.msg13135651#msg13135651)</strong><br/><br/><strong>COURTESAN</strong><br/><br/><strong>Situation:</strong>Learning of, and Tempting, Avicia<br/><br/><strong>Tagging:</strong>Avicia<br/><br/><strong>Content Warning:</strong><em>None</em><br/><br/>Andrea gasped so softly at Avicia’s touch that it sounded more like the cooing of a dove, a rather sensual and delectably surprised dive, her hyper sensitive nervous system sending those very pleasurably sublime sensations from her wrist to her mind’s depths time and again even after the grace of Avicia’s touch, and the glass, had departed her hand.<br/><br/>It seemed as if in a very short time a million and one things, be they possibilities, thoughts, fantasies, even regrets mixed in with all of the more pleasureful things played themselves out in the most subtle and yet, glorious, of ways across Avicia’s expression, her body language, but most truly, in her eyes.  Andrea did not have to know what or why these things happened, guesses and conjecture about a guest’s intentions and reasons for being there within the House were not something she dallied in or worried herself about.  At night the stars in the sky were beyond counting, beautiful sparkling flecks of brilliance in the sky, and not a thing she might learn from any book or the ramblings of some physicist about the nature of stars was either needed or helpful to her as she gazed upon that celestial majesty, appreciating the mystery of the heavens in a way that made the sight all the more spectacularly beautiful.<br/><br/>And so it was with Avicia then, that Andrea could watch and see so much within her mind and heart and soul, those thoughts and feelings escaping through her ephemeral presence like flecks of the most ardently lovely starlight, not to be analyzed nor categorized, but instead, Avicia was quite simply a sight of beauty and tremulous grace to behold and appreciate for those very qualities.  She offered her delight in what Avicia thanked her for and joined her in the toast, taking another drink, a deeper sip this time of the melon tinged deliciousness, before telling her,<br/><br/>“You may ask for a champagne Cosmopolitan, Milady, but it is as much in the way you ask as what you ask for.  We are all muses, for others, for each other, and your words will inspire the maker of the drink to be more bold and daring and, at the same time, artistically precise in mixing this yummy concoction, if only you grace your request with the same enthusiasm and delight that I now hear in your voice and your words.”<br/><br/>Andrea was tempted to place her hand upon the small of Avicia’s back as they walked, to return the touch that had been shared with her, but if her touch was desired, there would be time aplenty for it, in time, at the right time, and so she resisted that singularly powerful temptation.<br/><br/>She walked apace with Avicia, for all the world looking as if they indeed belonged together, be it as lovers, friends or the most rapturous of confidants.  Reaching the small and private, though not fully secluded sofa, she turned with an easy crispness upon one heel and her willowy frame settled into the embrace of the cushions with a naturalness that simply was that.  One leg crossed with practiced precision and elegance over the other, and after one last sip from her glass, Andrea’s hands settled for the moment in a clasped position, resting upon the knees of her endless legs, knees bared as her tight, form fitting dress rose up her comely thighs a bit upon taking her seat.<br/><br/>Andrea looked, she listened, not passively, but actively, tasting and hanging upon every word that Avicia uttered.  When the relatively few, but so very precious words of Avicia had been said with such emotional conviction, Andrea allowed them to hang in the air as beautifully as they were for a long moment before she replied, at last,<br/><br/>“Everyday is new, different, oft times in the tiniest and least fulfilling of ways, but that is not your desire, Lady Avicia, even just in the way you so easily call me Mistress, I can feel, taste your calling and craving of something so very new, so very different that the Avicia of yesterday would never have recognized the experience.  Yes, it should be pleasurable, and for that I believe you have more experience that matters than you know.  But what…what is ‘it’ that you wish to be pleasurable, Milady?” she asked, allowing her own words to dangle enticingly in the air like the earrings did from her ears.<br/><br/>“Sex,” she said the word with a boldness that was somehow relaxed and beautiful, “Sex should always be pleasurable, Avicia, whether in the fantasizing of it, the memory recalling it, and within the moments that it engulfs you in its ardent and shimmering flames.  Is sex that of which you speak and desire pleasure to flow from, Milady?  Or is it more, is it the aura of passion, desire, of needs wanting to be fulfilled, and satisfactions borne of rampant ecstasy?  Those thoughts, those very ideas and, yes, emotions, they are intensely powerful things, ones that add to and multiply the flavor of physical affections many times beyond what any would imagine otherwise.  We offer that here, but more, I see you as a woman wanting…more, Avicia, you desire pleasure to infiltrate and fill to the brim your very life with pleasure, isn’t that true?” Andrea asked, it was an open ended question that didn’t sound like one.<br/><br/>Avicia had the undivided interest and curiosity of the blonde courtesan, she had gained Andrea’s attentions the moment she arrived, but those attentions become all the more full, and yet in deep need of sating, with each passing moment they spent in each other’s company.<br/><br/>“Engage the mind, Avicia, as you have already done to mine, and the pleasures of the body will surely follow.  We are Brides here, not harlots or whores, neither to be used or to use you, but to be had and to have you.  For one night.  One night, at a time, to be your Bride and indeed, to be your every pleasure, if that is what you desire, my Lady.  Avicia,” Andrea spoke in a purposely halting voice, the way one might lean into a kiss, especially a first kiss, haltingly, carefully, and yet so very, very surely.  It was a kiss spoken, and upon Avicia’s ears and mind did the touch of Andrea’s softly pursed lips visceraly touch her words to the woman filling her eyes and sight so spectacularly.<br/>