Total pages in book: 60
Estimated words: 55964 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 280(@200wpm)___ 224(@250wpm)___ 187(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 55964 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 280(@200wpm)___ 224(@250wpm)___ 187(@300wpm)
I stare up at Ossev, these thoughts whirling in my head, wanting him to pluck them from my mind and understand it, to word it better than I can.
But he only gazes at me with a thoughtful expression, not moving. He’s unnaturally still, not even a twitch to betray his thoughts. “You…wish to serve all three of us at once.”
“In all ways,” I agree, hoping I’m being clear enough. “In every way.”
“And you would not feel…overwhelmed? By the presence of three gods in the same room with you?”
Is that what he worries over? “Not at all.”
His gaze grows unfocused. “But how…”
Sometimes the Spidae are so very innocent, for all that they are immortal gods. I remind myself that they have said to me many a time that seeing something in the web does not mean comprehending it. “I have a mouth,” I tell him. “I have two warm, wet holes. I have two hands. Surely between all of that I can manage to pleasure all three of you.”
Ossev’s gaze goes to my mouth and his eyes widen imperceptibly. I can almost see the flare of heat rising in his gaze, the fire inside him being stoked.
“You have not seen that in your webs, my lord?” I ask in a careful, soft voice.
“Yes, but it is not you. That makes it different. It is all different.” He sounds astounded.
The High Father was wise to place me with them, then. There are so many things they understand and grasp now simply because I am here, because I am the mortal they are sworn to. It is as if I am the missing piece of the puzzle that stopped them from comprehending mortal relationships in all their ways. I wasn’t sure at first that we could ever have a close relationship like I have seen with Faith and Aron of the Cleaver, but I know it is possible. We are almost there, all four of us.
“I would like to serve all three of you at once,” I tell him. “Please let me serve you.”
“When?” His voice is hushed, breathless.
“If it is possible for all of us to be in the same room and not cause distress to the webs, I should like to see you all tonight? We can have a lovely dinner and conversation. We can talk about how I can better serve all three of you.” I clasp my hands over my heart. “And then we will go to bed together, if that pleases the three of you.”
Ossev gives me a jerky nod. “Tonight.”
“Shall I tell the others?”
“They know.” He stares at my face, tilting his head in that strange way of his again, and then heads back into the tower.
I bite my lip, trying not to smile to myself. Tonight is going to be exciting. I must make myself ready.
I spend the rest of the day in preparations for that evening. If the Spidae are reading my mind, waiting for the right moment to arrive, I’m thankful. There’s so much for me to do. I take a quick bath and pin my thick curls up so they won’t get messy. Tonight is going to involve a great deal of oils and fluids, and I just washed my hair a few days ago.
Granted, I’ll wash it again if it gets messy, but I’m a big believer in being prepared.
I dab a bit of scent at my pulse points and put on a new dress, one that’s soft and flowing and made of a pale, pale chiffon in a delicate amber shade. My limbs are visible through the gauzy material when I walk, and it creates a pleasing tease to the senses. I put on a small corset to plump my breasts and show them off, and decide to skip both shoes and jewelry…and undergarments, but that is a given.
When I’m dressed and feeling sensual, I head down to the kitchens to prepare “our” meal. I know very well that the Spidae only eat if something intrigues them, so I cut up a few pieces of fresh fruit and then make myself a larger serving, adding nuts and a hard sweetbread I’m rather fond of. Several months ago, Apple brought me a bottle of wine with a label written in an unknown language, and I’ve been saving it for the right time. Tonight seems appropriate.
One more thing must be prepared for this evening, as well. I add herbs to a delicately-scented oil, thinking back to my days when I worked in a brothel. The girls there knew how to avoid infections, and this oil was a vital part of enjoyment, both for customers and for us.
Once the oil is steeping, the scent of it lingering in the kitchen, I maneuver the large table I have in the center of the stone floor, since I have no dining hall. I pour four glasses of wine, set out the four prepared plates, and then pull the two large, heavy chairs I have to the table, tossing a cushion on the hard back of each one so my lords can be comfortable. I add my only stool to the other side and then twist my hands, fretting.