<div class="floatright">(http://i.imgur.com/o4VHFOO.jpg)</div><br/>Florence reached down and slid her hand into one of the secret folds in her skirt, unlacing the ‘wrap’ skirt beneath her half dress, letting the great floor length material fall to the ground.  She stepped out of it and into the prince’s embrace.  Her legs, a scandalous amount of flesh by Olanian standards on display, where they showed above her calf length boots.<br/><br/>She smiled up at him as he grasped her back side through her new shorter skirt.  This man seemed like one who would need no direction, and she doubted it would be long before those hands found their way lower and under her skirt.  Then again, perhaps he would remove her gown from her completely.  What might he think of Olanian women when he found that she wore no undergarments beneath her dress?<br/><br/><strong>“The prince assumes much,”</strong>she said with a wry grin and a tone that sounded chastising, were it not for the mirth that turned it sarcastic.<strong>“Mayhaps you might be right about my husband,”</strong>he had no idea how right he was.<strong>“But I can’t help but wonder at the prince’s intimate knowledge of the love life of Olanese men.  Has he been ‘let down’ by their performance personally in the past?”</strong><br/><br/>She let her hands rest on his chest as she cocked her head at him, inquiringly.  It was a dangerous game to imply that a man preferred the company of other men.  But it was a calculated risk, for in her experience it only strove to push a lover to prove that he was strong, powerful, masculine, when he took her.  It might lead him to be domineering and bold, and after last night with her husband, she could stand for bold when it came to fucking.