For a moment, at least, the only sound in the room is the water splashing against the pristine walls of Tzahala's tub. For her part, Liza just relaxes and lets the runner take the reins, riding the waves of Tzhala's thrusts with cool, quiet grace; though when the runner's lips and teeth begin to dance across her throat, some of that grace and poise seems to melt away...<br/><br/>"Mmmm..." the corner girl's elbow posts against the lip of Tzahala's bath-tub, maintaining a controlled grip of her wine even as her head rolls back to rest against Tzahala's shoulders... and from her slightly higher vantage point, the Israeli woman can see that the prostitute's eyes have slid shut in an expression of pure bliss. "You shouldn't tease Mama so, girly... I keep trying to maintain my lady-like demeanor, but you're pushing buttons that make me want to act like miss red-breast out there..."<br/><br/>The older woman's lip curls in a playful smirk, and Tzahala hears the faint clink of the corner-girl's glass against the tiled floor before a perfectly manicured hand slides up and through her short, fur-like hair.<br/><br/>"And yes, it is quite the nice fit... though I could always make things a little bit more 'nice' if you wanted..."