Propelled by his strong arm, the door swings smoothly open, and as he steps back to let me pass, I swear he winks at me. A second later, his face is a picture of innocence.
Oh, but my Cicero is a prime specimen!
My tall, dark companion is the perfect body servant. He has the face of an angel, he keeps himself in supreme condition, and he knows what I want before I know it myself. Hiding a smile, I congratulate myself for having selected him. It helps, of course, when one’s mother is the Matriarch of all the Islands, and one always gets first pick of the annual crop up from the farms.
My heavy figured satin skirts swish around my thighs and bottom as I sweep into the room, and I imagine Cicero, behind me, dreaming of what’s beneath them. He’s as familiar with my nether regions as he is with his own, even if it’s not really his place to lust after them without my permission. His daily duties include washing every part of me, anointing my body with oils and perfumes, and then dressing me from the skin outwards. And as a man, my sex must be ever in his thoughts even if tradition decrees it’s not supposed to be...
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