As my fingertips tip-toed across the back of this handsome stranger, i smiled out at the soft light bathing the room in hushed glows and sparkles. Warm skin cascaded over anothers hand, engulfed in pleasure. But the excitement of the night had climbed under the slow breath of the morning, and in its absence, the guilt of spontanuity made his show. It was still only the prologue. Guilts dance would take up the entity of the show in due course…but my heart raced merely at the memory, still fresh and alive. The cream sheet russeled far to loud and a quiet sigh escaped the man. He rolled over, still clouded by sleeps sweet dews. I tried to smile, this has been amazing. But i just…couldnt.

She stood there dressed in the linnen, hazel hair so wonderfully uncertin. I like that. She seemed to reflect the golden hues from the suns early smile, but I could read the feeling of guilt in her eyes. If she had been the Kings wife, things would be different….but not, she was his mistress.