Anne rolled over in the bed and smiled contentedly.  The gentle light of the morning sun shown in on her bed, illuminating the golden hair of her bedmate.  He was quite a fun catch: young, enthusiastic, not yet experienced enough to be jaded.  His naked body was half-covered by the sheet, showing off his strong torso and just hinting at the trail of blond hairs that led further down.  He was still quite deeply sleeping.  As he should be - Anne had done everything she could to wear him out.  It was a rare man that could keep up with her when she was in the mood for it, and only the young ones could keep coming back for more.  If she was lucky, he'd wouldn't be too sore for another round when he woke up.<br/><br/>She smiled and slid off of the bed.  She took a deep breath, her proud breasts rising and falling over her trim, toned torso.  Sometimes she just wanted it, and when she did, she wanted a lot of it, and this one had brought that out in her.  She had drawn him in, taken him home, and gotten what she wanted.<br/><br/>"Is your appetite for that one sated, my hungry hunter?" The rolling voice purred into her head as a grey housecat rubbed itself by her bare calf.  A tattoo of a very similar cat pounced up her calf, the execution of her own hand.<br/><br/>"Maybe one more snack." She thought back. "Maybe I'll keep him around for a while."<br/><br/>The snif of the cat was dismissive.  "He is pretty, but that is all.  You'll be bored of him in a day and kick him out in two at most."<br/><br/>Anne almost laughed out loud to herself, and strode towards the bathroom, breaking the mental contact.  She reached back with her hands and brushed back her hair.  As she came around the corner, she paused to regard herself in the bathroom mirror.  It was quite an advantage to be an Amberite amongst Shadow.  Her body had the tauntness, curves, and complexion of a woman in her late teens or early twenties.  It made it all too easy to lapse into her hedonistic phases, such as the young Adonis in the bedroom represented.  She sighed.  Besides, it's fun too.  The thought of it brought a smile to her face, and a rising response in her body.<br/><br/>She paused there, her thoughts a mixture of physical contentment and yet mental discontent.  It was too easy.  Perhaps this is why the Amberites were inevitably drawn into the conflict of politics and power building.  In shadow she could have anything, or anyone, she wanted.  She'd had years of finding whatever the perfect dream lover she wanted, male or female, they could be had in Shadow.  It was fun, but not as satisfying as it once had been.<br/><br/>She picked up a pair of hair clips from the counter as she thought, fixing her hair back loosely so that just a locks fell down behind each ear onto her long neck.  The cat moved up to brush against her calf again.<br/><br/>"Thinking deep thoughts?" He asked, less sarcastically than before.<br/><br/>"Thinking that the challenge of the hunt isn't what it used to be." She replied, and was about to say more when she felt a familiar pressure of the mind.  She reflexively brought up the Pattern, stopping the trump contact, but the pressure did not immediately disappate.<br/><br/>"Trump" she thought quickly to Greyclaw.  She spun around and grabbed a blue terry-cloth bathrobe, and wrapped it around herself as she stepped quickly outside of the bathroom, her eyes flicking across the chaos of the bedroom.<br/><br/>The pressure came back, stronger, and she replied with a mental image of a hotel room sign saying "Do Not Disturb, Please Call Back Later", but the pressure still didn't go away.  She could feel that the mind on the other side was no psychic weakling either.<br/><br/>She crossed the room quickly, eyeing the leather pants that she had worn the night before at the club.  Appearances certain could be important when dealing with her peers, but practicallity was more important.  She dashed back into the hall, gesturing to Greyclaw as she did so.  If she had been taught one thing in the Courts of Amber, it was if you treated every contact as a potential attack then you might survive when it finally is one.  Paranoia was an inherited trait for Amberites.<br/><br/>She reached into a closet, pushed aside a long hanging dress and grabbed out a thin-bladed longsword concealed behind.  She turned around and Greyclaw leapt into her free hand, transforming into grey steel dagger as he moved through the air.  She shook the scabbard off of the blade, and ducked her Greyclaw-dagger hand into her robe as if she was holding it shut.  If the person wasn't observant, or did know her well enough, they might not realize that her weaker left hand held the sword, and that might be an edge she would need.<br/><br/>She took a deep breath as the next push of the Trump contact came, and she let it open.