<div class="floatleft">(https://i.pinimg.com/564x/c4/a2/eb/c4a2eb3622a5fd5f4149b8e094a22fa3.jpg)</div><strong>Name: </strong>Danae Vine-Lott<br/><strong>Location: </strong>The Charlotte, Danae’s Cabin<br/><strong>Wearing: </strong>White cotton jodhpurs (unbuttoned), loose grey muslin riding shirt with collar open and sleeves rolled up, barefoot<br/><strong>Content: </strong>Comfortably numb<br/><strong>Tagging: </strong>Hannah<br/><br/><hr/><br/>The fine, oiled wood grain of the ceiling stirred like the waves of the dead sea on which the Charlotte glided deep into that hot, humid night. There were shapes there, Danae was sure of it - memories compressed into an instant of recognition, only to be banished by the sudden reassertion of her rational mind.<br/><br/>"That is a dangerous task that you have taken upon yourself, Lady Rodes-Taving," Danae murmured, and drew her hands trough tightly curled, golden tresses.  The brush of curls peeking under the tight and painstakingly starched fabric of her jodhpurs was more of a platinum blonde than silver.  Most of her lovers found it striking, but to Danae it was proof of an atavistic taint.  There had been rogues, lunatics, and heretics in her bloodline, she was certain of it. Corruption was in her blood. "You ought better not to play with fire."  The wooden grain on the ceiling seemed to writhe like coupling succubi.<br/><br/>"We are so far from Ezra's garden, my dear - here we are in the embrace of darkness.  You and your friends speak lightly of ancient, wicked things that you are fortunate never to have seen.  I have seen the darkness, milady, I have peered into it, and it has peered back."  The anodyne kicked like a spooked stallion and she felt its hypnotic grip seize her and pull her deeper into a reverie.  With firm soldier's hand, one accustomed to clasping carbine butt and rapier, she took Hannah's pampered hand and pressed it palm down on the thin cotton of her shirt, just above her navel.  Smooth and hard like polished marble. Ah, how need boiled in her! A roiling sea , quickened by the opium snaking its way through her veins.<br/><br/>"Why did you come here? To tempt me?" She caught Hannah's hair in a twisting grip. "You chose me?  Why?"<em>She can smell that I'm wet, and wants to feel it, too, the slattern!</em>She was a soldier, after all, and what did this country club girl expect?  Hesitation?  Peasant barmaids were graced with common sense and would have been skirts up, thighs spread by now.<em>She's a little tease, a harlot - she smells your weakness, your taint</em>.<br/><br/>"This sin chose you," Danae tugged hard on Hannah's hair, twisting her neck, "I am a married woman, and still you lust after soldier's cunny.  Tell me then, what do you want? I should birch you right here and now, and tame your folly with the hard kiss of my martinet."