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It had been quite some time since Zoser had felt such an urge overcome him. Perhaps it was his pride that had prevented him for so long, or the nature of his position, or simply just the willful neglect of self. Primarily, he supposed that it was a combination of the above things, as well as the disassembled nature of his home due to the repairs needed to the foundation following the floods.
Early on, he discovered the way the Archive halls echoed.
More than one of his scribes beneath him had made a passing comment as to his mood of late, which tilted away from his usual dry humor to rather scathing sarcasm over the smallest of incidents. One spoke in jest, as many often did, noting that he would not have many of these problems if he would just find himself a woman to bed - or wed. Per usual, he blew past the comment with a waved hand and a snide remark, except....today, the thought lingered.
It had been more than a few months since he last step foot on the winding streets of the tavern district, and he found himself glancing over shoulders and sidelong in directions, hoping not to find too many familiar faces in such streets. Then again, it was early in the evening - almost to the point of being 'too' early by many standards. Then again, Zoser was not a man to fit any certain mold.
It's not that Zoser did not like sex or brothel girls - those things, liked just fine! He had his indulgent moments, but there was a part of him that in a minor, haughty sense considered it unnecessary. If he had gone through the efforts to analyze his psyche, he may have considered it a point of pride to be more reserved in his urges - more Greek, in a way.
It was not a bragging point or something he broadcast by any means, but it was a more private confidence he had in himself as a man - or at least, the ideal version of himself.
However, human need overpowered pride in this instance, leading him through the door of his preferred brothel. It was easier this way, with only a small set of faces familiar with his weakness. Clearing his throat lightly, as if to reassure himself, his brows lifted and his taut expression softened as he noted the familiar figure of Deshra, a rather new girl to this particular establishment but one who seemed to...understand, in a way.
"Deshra, my dear," he said, trying not to seem too wound tight and overly aware that he was failing at it already. He swallowed slightly as he let his eyes glance around, his body reacting in spite of his mind's preferences as he saw the scantily clad nature of the few women in the room who eyed him. Still, he managed a bit of a smile seeing her, "Too much time has passed and yet you are as lovely as ever, my dear."
His mind made one final attempt at protest, but ultimately relented with a sigh as he offered a crooked arm, "Would you care to keep an old man company for a short while?"
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Sept 25, 2019 21:06:55 GMT
Posted In A Man in Need on Sept 25, 2019 21:06:55 GMT
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It had been quite some time since Zoser had felt such an urge overcome him. Perhaps it was his pride that had prevented him for so long, or the nature of his position, or simply just the willful neglect of self. Primarily, he supposed that it was a combination of the above things, as well as the disassembled nature of his home due to the repairs needed to the foundation following the floods.
Early on, he discovered the way the Archive halls echoed.
More than one of his scribes beneath him had made a passing comment as to his mood of late, which tilted away from his usual dry humor to rather scathing sarcasm over the smallest of incidents. One spoke in jest, as many often did, noting that he would not have many of these problems if he would just find himself a woman to bed - or wed. Per usual, he blew past the comment with a waved hand and a snide remark, except....today, the thought lingered.
It had been more than a few months since he last step foot on the winding streets of the tavern district, and he found himself glancing over shoulders and sidelong in directions, hoping not to find too many familiar faces in such streets. Then again, it was early in the evening - almost to the point of being 'too' early by many standards. Then again, Zoser was not a man to fit any certain mold.
It's not that Zoser did not like sex or brothel girls - those things, liked just fine! He had his indulgent moments, but there was a part of him that in a minor, haughty sense considered it unnecessary. If he had gone through the efforts to analyze his psyche, he may have considered it a point of pride to be more reserved in his urges - more Greek, in a way.
It was not a bragging point or something he broadcast by any means, but it was a more private confidence he had in himself as a man - or at least, the ideal version of himself.
However, human need overpowered pride in this instance, leading him through the door of his preferred brothel. It was easier this way, with only a small set of faces familiar with his weakness. Clearing his throat lightly, as if to reassure himself, his brows lifted and his taut expression softened as he noted the familiar figure of Deshra, a rather new girl to this particular establishment but one who seemed to...understand, in a way.
"Deshra, my dear," he said, trying not to seem too wound tight and overly aware that he was failing at it already. He swallowed slightly as he let his eyes glance around, his body reacting in spite of his mind's preferences as he saw the scantily clad nature of the few women in the room who eyed him. Still, he managed a bit of a smile seeing her, "Too much time has passed and yet you are as lovely as ever, my dear."
His mind made one final attempt at protest, but ultimately relented with a sigh as he offered a crooked arm, "Would you care to keep an old man company for a short while?"
It had been quite some time since Zoser had felt such an urge overcome him. Perhaps it was his pride that had prevented him for so long, or the nature of his position, or simply just the willful neglect of self. Primarily, he supposed that it was a combination of the above things, as well as the disassembled nature of his home due to the repairs needed to the foundation following the floods.
Early on, he discovered the way the Archive halls echoed.
More than one of his scribes beneath him had made a passing comment as to his mood of late, which tilted away from his usual dry humor to rather scathing sarcasm over the smallest of incidents. One spoke in jest, as many often did, noting that he would not have many of these problems if he would just find himself a woman to bed - or wed. Per usual, he blew past the comment with a waved hand and a snide remark, except....today, the thought lingered.
It had been more than a few months since he last step foot on the winding streets of the tavern district, and he found himself glancing over shoulders and sidelong in directions, hoping not to find too many familiar faces in such streets. Then again, it was early in the evening - almost to the point of being 'too' early by many standards. Then again, Zoser was not a man to fit any certain mold.
It's not that Zoser did not like sex or brothel girls - those things, liked just fine! He had his indulgent moments, but there was a part of him that in a minor, haughty sense considered it unnecessary. If he had gone through the efforts to analyze his psyche, he may have considered it a point of pride to be more reserved in his urges - more Greek, in a way.
It was not a bragging point or something he broadcast by any means, but it was a more private confidence he had in himself as a man - or at least, the ideal version of himself.
However, human need overpowered pride in this instance, leading him through the door of his preferred brothel. It was easier this way, with only a small set of faces familiar with his weakness. Clearing his throat lightly, as if to reassure himself, his brows lifted and his taut expression softened as he noted the familiar figure of Deshra, a rather new girl to this particular establishment but one who seemed to...understand, in a way.
"Deshra, my dear," he said, trying not to seem too wound tight and overly aware that he was failing at it already. He swallowed slightly as he let his eyes glance around, his body reacting in spite of his mind's preferences as he saw the scantily clad nature of the few women in the room who eyed him. Still, he managed a bit of a smile seeing her, "Too much time has passed and yet you are as lovely as ever, my dear."
His mind made one final attempt at protest, but ultimately relented with a sigh as he offered a crooked arm, "Would you care to keep an old man company for a short while?"
Deshra was lounging in one of the low couches in the brothel when Zoser came in, a loose robe of sheer silk hanging off her shoulders, and fastened only with a very tenuously tied knot in the front. When the man walked in, it was if the entire energy of the place had changed. Whereas the atmosphere in the brothel was casual and lighthearted, the man walking through the doors seemed to radiate tension. Deshra eyed this disruption as he entered. She had seen the man in the brothel before. Zoser was an interesting character who didn’t act like a typical Egyptian, and she found that intriguing. In some ways, he acted more like a Greek than an Egyptian, not that she knew the man well enough to say why that might be. Hopefully, she might have the chance to find out more about him.
Her eyes followed him as he took his time selecting one of the girls. As much as she wanted to see more of him, if only to satiate her own curiosity, she made no move towards him. No, she could see the uncertainty in his eyes. This was a decision he needed to make of his own accord. Of course, she was pleased when he walked towards her. She smiled and looked down, as she slowly sat up, and then stood to greet him. Her robe shifted around her showing glimpses of the body underneath, revealing that her freckles extended beyond her face.
Deshra preened slightly under the praise the main afforded her. While some might have deflected the praise, Deshra did no such thing. She knew the value of her beauty, and she had no desire to downplay it. Instead, she responded to the second half of the comment. “Yes, it has been too long. Or have you been dallying with another establishment?” Deshra asked the question cheekily. He did visit less frequently than many of their regulars. She didn’t expect an answer, but any that he did give might give her a clue about how to get him to come back more regularly.
“You are hardly an old man,” she teased. Men liked to be flattered. Besides, it was true enough, although his hair had begun turning grey, his face still remained largely unlined. He was hardly the oldest man who frequented the establishment. “But I would be more than happy to keep you company.” She smiled demurely and took him by the hand. “Perhaps somewhere more private?” She took a small clay lamp and led him down the hall to one of the rooms in the back of the establishment.
The room, although small, was well furnished, as would be expected of the high-class establishment. She used her lamp to light a couple of other lamps situated around the room. They cast a flickery light on the walls of the room as she led Zoser to the bed. The man was as tense as an antelope at a watering hole full of lions. So she let him sit on the edge of the bed as she slid around behind him. She worked her hands into his shoulders gently; they were all in knots. “They’ve been working you too hard,” she commented continuing to rub his shoulders. Not that she knew who “they” were, but she was sure he’d be able to fill in the context for himself.
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Deshra was lounging in one of the low couches in the brothel when Zoser came in, a loose robe of sheer silk hanging off her shoulders, and fastened only with a very tenuously tied knot in the front. When the man walked in, it was if the entire energy of the place had changed. Whereas the atmosphere in the brothel was casual and lighthearted, the man walking through the doors seemed to radiate tension. Deshra eyed this disruption as he entered. She had seen the man in the brothel before. Zoser was an interesting character who didn’t act like a typical Egyptian, and she found that intriguing. In some ways, he acted more like a Greek than an Egyptian, not that she knew the man well enough to say why that might be. Hopefully, she might have the chance to find out more about him.
Her eyes followed him as he took his time selecting one of the girls. As much as she wanted to see more of him, if only to satiate her own curiosity, she made no move towards him. No, she could see the uncertainty in his eyes. This was a decision he needed to make of his own accord. Of course, she was pleased when he walked towards her. She smiled and looked down, as she slowly sat up, and then stood to greet him. Her robe shifted around her showing glimpses of the body underneath, revealing that her freckles extended beyond her face.
Deshra preened slightly under the praise the main afforded her. While some might have deflected the praise, Deshra did no such thing. She knew the value of her beauty, and she had no desire to downplay it. Instead, she responded to the second half of the comment. “Yes, it has been too long. Or have you been dallying with another establishment?” Deshra asked the question cheekily. He did visit less frequently than many of their regulars. She didn’t expect an answer, but any that he did give might give her a clue about how to get him to come back more regularly.
“You are hardly an old man,” she teased. Men liked to be flattered. Besides, it was true enough, although his hair had begun turning grey, his face still remained largely unlined. He was hardly the oldest man who frequented the establishment. “But I would be more than happy to keep you company.” She smiled demurely and took him by the hand. “Perhaps somewhere more private?” She took a small clay lamp and led him down the hall to one of the rooms in the back of the establishment.
The room, although small, was well furnished, as would be expected of the high-class establishment. She used her lamp to light a couple of other lamps situated around the room. They cast a flickery light on the walls of the room as she led Zoser to the bed. The man was as tense as an antelope at a watering hole full of lions. So she let him sit on the edge of the bed as she slid around behind him. She worked her hands into his shoulders gently; they were all in knots. “They’ve been working you too hard,” she commented continuing to rub his shoulders. Not that she knew who “they” were, but she was sure he’d be able to fill in the context for himself.
Deshra was lounging in one of the low couches in the brothel when Zoser came in, a loose robe of sheer silk hanging off her shoulders, and fastened only with a very tenuously tied knot in the front. When the man walked in, it was if the entire energy of the place had changed. Whereas the atmosphere in the brothel was casual and lighthearted, the man walking through the doors seemed to radiate tension. Deshra eyed this disruption as he entered. She had seen the man in the brothel before. Zoser was an interesting character who didn’t act like a typical Egyptian, and she found that intriguing. In some ways, he acted more like a Greek than an Egyptian, not that she knew the man well enough to say why that might be. Hopefully, she might have the chance to find out more about him.
Her eyes followed him as he took his time selecting one of the girls. As much as she wanted to see more of him, if only to satiate her own curiosity, she made no move towards him. No, she could see the uncertainty in his eyes. This was a decision he needed to make of his own accord. Of course, she was pleased when he walked towards her. She smiled and looked down, as she slowly sat up, and then stood to greet him. Her robe shifted around her showing glimpses of the body underneath, revealing that her freckles extended beyond her face.
Deshra preened slightly under the praise the main afforded her. While some might have deflected the praise, Deshra did no such thing. She knew the value of her beauty, and she had no desire to downplay it. Instead, she responded to the second half of the comment. “Yes, it has been too long. Or have you been dallying with another establishment?” Deshra asked the question cheekily. He did visit less frequently than many of their regulars. She didn’t expect an answer, but any that he did give might give her a clue about how to get him to come back more regularly.
“You are hardly an old man,” she teased. Men liked to be flattered. Besides, it was true enough, although his hair had begun turning grey, his face still remained largely unlined. He was hardly the oldest man who frequented the establishment. “But I would be more than happy to keep you company.” She smiled demurely and took him by the hand. “Perhaps somewhere more private?” She took a small clay lamp and led him down the hall to one of the rooms in the back of the establishment.
The room, although small, was well furnished, as would be expected of the high-class establishment. She used her lamp to light a couple of other lamps situated around the room. They cast a flickery light on the walls of the room as she led Zoser to the bed. The man was as tense as an antelope at a watering hole full of lions. So she let him sit on the edge of the bed as she slid around behind him. She worked her hands into his shoulders gently; they were all in knots. “They’ve been working you too hard,” she commented continuing to rub his shoulders. Not that she knew who “they” were, but she was sure he’d be able to fill in the context for himself.
Perhaps Zoser had gone far too long without recognizing the signs of stress within himself. The same thing tended to happen when sleep eluded him for too long. He could go days without proper sleep barring a few hours here and there, but soon after he would sleep in excess, losing nearly an entire day if he was not careful. The colleagues within the Archives new this about him and managed to provide coverage on such days, adjusting his written schedule to hide his absence.
It would seem that some of them knew him better than he knew himself at times, particularly dealing with his needs. After all, it was on their suggestion that he found himself here. Focused on the impending war and his charge in caring for the Queen, on top of the renovations to his home, and the seemingly everlasting plans for the University to finish construction in Alexandria, he had, in fact, failed to care for himself in these ways.
He could not remember the last time he had come here.
Deshra's smile and her state of dress brought an almost boyish curl of a smile to his lips, breaking through the tension that seemed to radiate through him.
"No, no, just...been keeping busy," he noted, almost waving away the idea of having gone elsewhere. After all, this place was familiar and when he did come back, he tended to binge his time here - especially if his visits did double duty and let him cross paths with his old friend, Tassos.
Nodding at her suggestion - truly, the only option in this case - Zoser could not help but glance over his shoulder before following her to the room they would share for a time. The woman led him to the bed, where he took a seat on the edge and began to remove his sandals, eyes glancing up every now and then to drink in the sight of her.
Everything about her was mystifying and curiosity inducing - her hair, the constellation of freckles across her body, the shape of her eyes. The form of her body sent a warmth and tightening through his core, his poorly neglected member stiffening at the thought of his hands across her hips and thighs. It made him long to know her story, though he knew that asking such things was entirely out of character in this circumstance. Still, he did enjoy the company of others no matter their past and present, and as he let his sandal drop to the floorboards, he straightened only to find her hands pressing circles into his shoulders.
He groaned, almost surprising himself with the sound.
"You have no idea," he grumbled in reply, leaning his head back as she worked to catch a glance at her face.
He let her hands work a moment, relaxing enough to let his lips loosen to ask, "Do you tire of your job at times?"
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Dec 19, 2019 22:18:05 GMT
Posted In A Man in Need on Dec 19, 2019 22:18:05 GMT
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Perhaps Zoser had gone far too long without recognizing the signs of stress within himself. The same thing tended to happen when sleep eluded him for too long. He could go days without proper sleep barring a few hours here and there, but soon after he would sleep in excess, losing nearly an entire day if he was not careful. The colleagues within the Archives new this about him and managed to provide coverage on such days, adjusting his written schedule to hide his absence.
It would seem that some of them knew him better than he knew himself at times, particularly dealing with his needs. After all, it was on their suggestion that he found himself here. Focused on the impending war and his charge in caring for the Queen, on top of the renovations to his home, and the seemingly everlasting plans for the University to finish construction in Alexandria, he had, in fact, failed to care for himself in these ways.
He could not remember the last time he had come here.
Deshra's smile and her state of dress brought an almost boyish curl of a smile to his lips, breaking through the tension that seemed to radiate through him.
"No, no, just...been keeping busy," he noted, almost waving away the idea of having gone elsewhere. After all, this place was familiar and when he did come back, he tended to binge his time here - especially if his visits did double duty and let him cross paths with his old friend, Tassos.
Nodding at her suggestion - truly, the only option in this case - Zoser could not help but glance over his shoulder before following her to the room they would share for a time. The woman led him to the bed, where he took a seat on the edge and began to remove his sandals, eyes glancing up every now and then to drink in the sight of her.
Everything about her was mystifying and curiosity inducing - her hair, the constellation of freckles across her body, the shape of her eyes. The form of her body sent a warmth and tightening through his core, his poorly neglected member stiffening at the thought of his hands across her hips and thighs. It made him long to know her story, though he knew that asking such things was entirely out of character in this circumstance. Still, he did enjoy the company of others no matter their past and present, and as he let his sandal drop to the floorboards, he straightened only to find her hands pressing circles into his shoulders.
He groaned, almost surprising himself with the sound.
"You have no idea," he grumbled in reply, leaning his head back as she worked to catch a glance at her face.
He let her hands work a moment, relaxing enough to let his lips loosen to ask, "Do you tire of your job at times?"
Perhaps Zoser had gone far too long without recognizing the signs of stress within himself. The same thing tended to happen when sleep eluded him for too long. He could go days without proper sleep barring a few hours here and there, but soon after he would sleep in excess, losing nearly an entire day if he was not careful. The colleagues within the Archives new this about him and managed to provide coverage on such days, adjusting his written schedule to hide his absence.
It would seem that some of them knew him better than he knew himself at times, particularly dealing with his needs. After all, it was on their suggestion that he found himself here. Focused on the impending war and his charge in caring for the Queen, on top of the renovations to his home, and the seemingly everlasting plans for the University to finish construction in Alexandria, he had, in fact, failed to care for himself in these ways.
He could not remember the last time he had come here.
Deshra's smile and her state of dress brought an almost boyish curl of a smile to his lips, breaking through the tension that seemed to radiate through him.
"No, no, just...been keeping busy," he noted, almost waving away the idea of having gone elsewhere. After all, this place was familiar and when he did come back, he tended to binge his time here - especially if his visits did double duty and let him cross paths with his old friend, Tassos.
Nodding at her suggestion - truly, the only option in this case - Zoser could not help but glance over his shoulder before following her to the room they would share for a time. The woman led him to the bed, where he took a seat on the edge and began to remove his sandals, eyes glancing up every now and then to drink in the sight of her.
Everything about her was mystifying and curiosity inducing - her hair, the constellation of freckles across her body, the shape of her eyes. The form of her body sent a warmth and tightening through his core, his poorly neglected member stiffening at the thought of his hands across her hips and thighs. It made him long to know her story, though he knew that asking such things was entirely out of character in this circumstance. Still, he did enjoy the company of others no matter their past and present, and as he let his sandal drop to the floorboards, he straightened only to find her hands pressing circles into his shoulders.
He groaned, almost surprising himself with the sound.
"You have no idea," he grumbled in reply, leaning his head back as she worked to catch a glance at her face.
He let her hands work a moment, relaxing enough to let his lips loosen to ask, "Do you tire of your job at times?"
Deshra slid close in behind him as she massaged his shoulders, pressing her hips and breasts up against his back. It wasn’t the best angle for a massage, but ultimately the goal wasn’t to relieve his tension through his shoulders anyway. As Zoser twisted to get a better look at her, she realized he might want a better view, and she grinned seductively at him. She slid over to his left side as he asked his question, her hand trailing along the top of his shoulders. Her lose robe had slid down off her shoulders and was now held up only by the crooks of her elbows.
“How could I ever tire of this job when I get to meet so many interesting people this way?” She smiled at him, flattering him with the implication that he was an interesting person that she would never tire of. It wasn’t really an answer to the question that he had asked so much as a diplomatic dodge of the question. While it was true that sometimes her job lead her having to work when she would rather not, it wasn’t a question she wished to actually think about seriously. If she didn’t have this job, she couldn’t imagine having to do anything else for a living. It was certainly better than having to do manual labor. She was too beautiful to have that ruined by long days in the hot sun.
It was true that Zoser was one of the more interesting of her clients. With him, it always seemed like there was more of a give and take between them than just one person exerting his will over the other. It was refreshing. She glanced Zoser up and down, her eyes trailing slowly across his body as if she was taking it all in. In truth, he wasn’t bad to look at [description here] She smirked a bit as she noticed that he was already excited. It really had been too long, but she knew just how to take care of that.
As her eyes reached his face again she grinned cheekily. “I believe you are overdressed for the occasion,” Deshra teased. She let her own robe fall to the ground as she stood up, slightly nodding an invitation that he should follow suit.
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Deshra slid close in behind him as she massaged his shoulders, pressing her hips and breasts up against his back. It wasn’t the best angle for a massage, but ultimately the goal wasn’t to relieve his tension through his shoulders anyway. As Zoser twisted to get a better look at her, she realized he might want a better view, and she grinned seductively at him. She slid over to his left side as he asked his question, her hand trailing along the top of his shoulders. Her lose robe had slid down off her shoulders and was now held up only by the crooks of her elbows.
“How could I ever tire of this job when I get to meet so many interesting people this way?” She smiled at him, flattering him with the implication that he was an interesting person that she would never tire of. It wasn’t really an answer to the question that he had asked so much as a diplomatic dodge of the question. While it was true that sometimes her job lead her having to work when she would rather not, it wasn’t a question she wished to actually think about seriously. If she didn’t have this job, she couldn’t imagine having to do anything else for a living. It was certainly better than having to do manual labor. She was too beautiful to have that ruined by long days in the hot sun.
It was true that Zoser was one of the more interesting of her clients. With him, it always seemed like there was more of a give and take between them than just one person exerting his will over the other. It was refreshing. She glanced Zoser up and down, her eyes trailing slowly across his body as if she was taking it all in. In truth, he wasn’t bad to look at [description here] She smirked a bit as she noticed that he was already excited. It really had been too long, but she knew just how to take care of that.
As her eyes reached his face again she grinned cheekily. “I believe you are overdressed for the occasion,” Deshra teased. She let her own robe fall to the ground as she stood up, slightly nodding an invitation that he should follow suit.
Deshra slid close in behind him as she massaged his shoulders, pressing her hips and breasts up against his back. It wasn’t the best angle for a massage, but ultimately the goal wasn’t to relieve his tension through his shoulders anyway. As Zoser twisted to get a better look at her, she realized he might want a better view, and she grinned seductively at him. She slid over to his left side as he asked his question, her hand trailing along the top of his shoulders. Her lose robe had slid down off her shoulders and was now held up only by the crooks of her elbows.
“How could I ever tire of this job when I get to meet so many interesting people this way?” She smiled at him, flattering him with the implication that he was an interesting person that she would never tire of. It wasn’t really an answer to the question that he had asked so much as a diplomatic dodge of the question. While it was true that sometimes her job lead her having to work when she would rather not, it wasn’t a question she wished to actually think about seriously. If she didn’t have this job, she couldn’t imagine having to do anything else for a living. It was certainly better than having to do manual labor. She was too beautiful to have that ruined by long days in the hot sun.
It was true that Zoser was one of the more interesting of her clients. With him, it always seemed like there was more of a give and take between them than just one person exerting his will over the other. It was refreshing. She glanced Zoser up and down, her eyes trailing slowly across his body as if she was taking it all in. In truth, he wasn’t bad to look at [description here] She smirked a bit as she noticed that he was already excited. It really had been too long, but she knew just how to take care of that.
As her eyes reached his face again she grinned cheekily. “I believe you are overdressed for the occasion,” Deshra teased. She let her own robe fall to the ground as she stood up, slightly nodding an invitation that he should follow suit.
Zoser's hooded eyes crinkled slightly at her coy response, shifting his weight so it was supported on one hand and allowed his other hand to roam, settling briefly at beautiful curve between her waist and hip. Women were simply the most amazing creatures, so soft and supple beneath his hands.
It was just as easy to starve from lack of touch as it was to starve from lack of food, he realized, as he body seemed to generate a pang that felt much like hunger, aching between his thighs as the look of her. His eyes drifted from the freckles that dotted her nose and cheeks down to where they dusted her collarbones and now-revealed breasts. He knew they must cover every inch of her, innumerable.
"Flatterer," he teasingly accused, allowing her to stand as he added softly, "But, I will accept being in such company." As her robe dropped his expression shifted from anxiety to restlessness, as his base instincts clawed their way to the forefront. Behind these doors, he had no need for decorum the way he did among royals and scholars. Hardly anyone within these rooms knew exactly who he was, and even if they did, could they blame a bachelor for fulfilling his natural needs? Especially with such a desert flower as this...
Deshra had taken excellent care of him last time and, if he were to be so confident, he thought she may have enjoyed her time with him as well. He was, after all, experienced at his age, and knew better than to waste money on a simple, quick session. His pleasure was her focus, of course, but like many men, he enjoyed the feeling of being in control of any pleasure she might feel as well. Though, to be fair, he was just as selfish as any other man...today, even more so.
Unclasping the parts that secured his kilt across his hips, he slide them off, but still manage to drape them rather neatly on the edge of the bed - it would do him no favors to leave completely rumpled and haggard, despite how many other men he worked with indulged in the same pleasures.
Standing, the difference in their height was immediate and he strode towards her, towering over her but not looming. Instead, his hands reached out once again to trace along her curves, one hand drifting up to cup her breast as the other drifted down between their hip, finding the space between warm and inviting. The moment his fingers felt the soft, velveteen entrance, he groaned a soft sigh. Steadily and even in a way that could have been considered gentle if not for the feverish air behind it, he began to back Deshra the few short steps towards the wall, immediately moving the hand from her chest to brace against the polished and plastered sandstone.
"Gods, I have needed this..." he murmured to no one in particular as his fingers now found her plush center, circling as if in search as his eyes gazed over her speckled form before him, wanting.
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Feb 21, 2020 19:46:14 GMT
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Zoser's hooded eyes crinkled slightly at her coy response, shifting his weight so it was supported on one hand and allowed his other hand to roam, settling briefly at beautiful curve between her waist and hip. Women were simply the most amazing creatures, so soft and supple beneath his hands.
It was just as easy to starve from lack of touch as it was to starve from lack of food, he realized, as he body seemed to generate a pang that felt much like hunger, aching between his thighs as the look of her. His eyes drifted from the freckles that dotted her nose and cheeks down to where they dusted her collarbones and now-revealed breasts. He knew they must cover every inch of her, innumerable.
"Flatterer," he teasingly accused, allowing her to stand as he added softly, "But, I will accept being in such company." As her robe dropped his expression shifted from anxiety to restlessness, as his base instincts clawed their way to the forefront. Behind these doors, he had no need for decorum the way he did among royals and scholars. Hardly anyone within these rooms knew exactly who he was, and even if they did, could they blame a bachelor for fulfilling his natural needs? Especially with such a desert flower as this...
Deshra had taken excellent care of him last time and, if he were to be so confident, he thought she may have enjoyed her time with him as well. He was, after all, experienced at his age, and knew better than to waste money on a simple, quick session. His pleasure was her focus, of course, but like many men, he enjoyed the feeling of being in control of any pleasure she might feel as well. Though, to be fair, he was just as selfish as any other man...today, even more so.
Unclasping the parts that secured his kilt across his hips, he slide them off, but still manage to drape them rather neatly on the edge of the bed - it would do him no favors to leave completely rumpled and haggard, despite how many other men he worked with indulged in the same pleasures.
Standing, the difference in their height was immediate and he strode towards her, towering over her but not looming. Instead, his hands reached out once again to trace along her curves, one hand drifting up to cup her breast as the other drifted down between their hip, finding the space between warm and inviting. The moment his fingers felt the soft, velveteen entrance, he groaned a soft sigh. Steadily and even in a way that could have been considered gentle if not for the feverish air behind it, he began to back Deshra the few short steps towards the wall, immediately moving the hand from her chest to brace against the polished and plastered sandstone.
"Gods, I have needed this..." he murmured to no one in particular as his fingers now found her plush center, circling as if in search as his eyes gazed over her speckled form before him, wanting.
Zoser's hooded eyes crinkled slightly at her coy response, shifting his weight so it was supported on one hand and allowed his other hand to roam, settling briefly at beautiful curve between her waist and hip. Women were simply the most amazing creatures, so soft and supple beneath his hands.
It was just as easy to starve from lack of touch as it was to starve from lack of food, he realized, as he body seemed to generate a pang that felt much like hunger, aching between his thighs as the look of her. His eyes drifted from the freckles that dotted her nose and cheeks down to where they dusted her collarbones and now-revealed breasts. He knew they must cover every inch of her, innumerable.
"Flatterer," he teasingly accused, allowing her to stand as he added softly, "But, I will accept being in such company." As her robe dropped his expression shifted from anxiety to restlessness, as his base instincts clawed their way to the forefront. Behind these doors, he had no need for decorum the way he did among royals and scholars. Hardly anyone within these rooms knew exactly who he was, and even if they did, could they blame a bachelor for fulfilling his natural needs? Especially with such a desert flower as this...
Deshra had taken excellent care of him last time and, if he were to be so confident, he thought she may have enjoyed her time with him as well. He was, after all, experienced at his age, and knew better than to waste money on a simple, quick session. His pleasure was her focus, of course, but like many men, he enjoyed the feeling of being in control of any pleasure she might feel as well. Though, to be fair, he was just as selfish as any other man...today, even more so.
Unclasping the parts that secured his kilt across his hips, he slide them off, but still manage to drape them rather neatly on the edge of the bed - it would do him no favors to leave completely rumpled and haggard, despite how many other men he worked with indulged in the same pleasures.
Standing, the difference in their height was immediate and he strode towards her, towering over her but not looming. Instead, his hands reached out once again to trace along her curves, one hand drifting up to cup her breast as the other drifted down between their hip, finding the space between warm and inviting. The moment his fingers felt the soft, velveteen entrance, he groaned a soft sigh. Steadily and even in a way that could have been considered gentle if not for the feverish air behind it, he began to back Deshra the few short steps towards the wall, immediately moving the hand from her chest to brace against the polished and plastered sandstone.
"Gods, I have needed this..." he murmured to no one in particular as his fingers now found her plush center, circling as if in search as his eyes gazed over her speckled form before him, wanting.
Deshra couldn’t help but smirk as she saw the transformation in Zoser that she had seen in so many men. Outside this room, they had to be respectable, perhaps even formal. They had to live within the rules of society. Here they could give in to their deepest instincts, let loose the inhibitions that bound them. Deshra was no longer surprised at the fact that deep down, all men were basically the same. Sure, the details were different, different preferences, different positions, but deep down every man craved release, and without the shackles of society holding them back, they would do anything to get it.
Here in the bedroom was a place where Deshra was truly in her element. She knew her craft well and seducing a man was as much second nature as a fish being able to swim. Here she could control a man with a simple touch or a word, by giving or withholding pleasure. The only rules that existed here were hers, and even then, there weren’t very many.
Deshra closed her eyes with a sigh as Zoser reached out to caress her body. While the responses were carefully calculated, they weren’t so much a performance as letting her own instincts do the work. The man was more gentle than most, so there was no need to pretend that it was enjoyable.
She grinned as he became bolder in his actions, fingers searching between her legs as he pushed her back against the wall. Again her eyes closed with pleasure, her breathing becoming more rapid. As he entered her, Deshra gave a soft moan. She appreciated the thought towards her own enjoyment, and yet he was the one who was doing the payment. Her pleasure only mattered in that it was in service of his own, so she was sure to convey the full extent of her satisfaction. When someone was skilled there was very little acting needed to encourage him that he was doing a good job.
Deshra leaned in towards the man, taking his words as encouragement, as she slid her own hand up the side of his leg. “Tell me what you need,” she whispered breathlessly in his ear. “Your wish is my command.” There was very little if anything that Deshra wasn’t willing to do for the right price. Not that Deshra expected it to be anything particularly interesting. What most men wanted usually fell within the same small range of acts, though it was always intriguing when she got one that wanted something different.
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Mar 31, 2020 20:05:52 GMT
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Deshra couldn’t help but smirk as she saw the transformation in Zoser that she had seen in so many men. Outside this room, they had to be respectable, perhaps even formal. They had to live within the rules of society. Here they could give in to their deepest instincts, let loose the inhibitions that bound them. Deshra was no longer surprised at the fact that deep down, all men were basically the same. Sure, the details were different, different preferences, different positions, but deep down every man craved release, and without the shackles of society holding them back, they would do anything to get it.
Here in the bedroom was a place where Deshra was truly in her element. She knew her craft well and seducing a man was as much second nature as a fish being able to swim. Here she could control a man with a simple touch or a word, by giving or withholding pleasure. The only rules that existed here were hers, and even then, there weren’t very many.
Deshra closed her eyes with a sigh as Zoser reached out to caress her body. While the responses were carefully calculated, they weren’t so much a performance as letting her own instincts do the work. The man was more gentle than most, so there was no need to pretend that it was enjoyable.
She grinned as he became bolder in his actions, fingers searching between her legs as he pushed her back against the wall. Again her eyes closed with pleasure, her breathing becoming more rapid. As he entered her, Deshra gave a soft moan. She appreciated the thought towards her own enjoyment, and yet he was the one who was doing the payment. Her pleasure only mattered in that it was in service of his own, so she was sure to convey the full extent of her satisfaction. When someone was skilled there was very little acting needed to encourage him that he was doing a good job.
Deshra leaned in towards the man, taking his words as encouragement, as she slid her own hand up the side of his leg. “Tell me what you need,” she whispered breathlessly in his ear. “Your wish is my command.” There was very little if anything that Deshra wasn’t willing to do for the right price. Not that Deshra expected it to be anything particularly interesting. What most men wanted usually fell within the same small range of acts, though it was always intriguing when she got one that wanted something different.
Deshra couldn’t help but smirk as she saw the transformation in Zoser that she had seen in so many men. Outside this room, they had to be respectable, perhaps even formal. They had to live within the rules of society. Here they could give in to their deepest instincts, let loose the inhibitions that bound them. Deshra was no longer surprised at the fact that deep down, all men were basically the same. Sure, the details were different, different preferences, different positions, but deep down every man craved release, and without the shackles of society holding them back, they would do anything to get it.
Here in the bedroom was a place where Deshra was truly in her element. She knew her craft well and seducing a man was as much second nature as a fish being able to swim. Here she could control a man with a simple touch or a word, by giving or withholding pleasure. The only rules that existed here were hers, and even then, there weren’t very many.
Deshra closed her eyes with a sigh as Zoser reached out to caress her body. While the responses were carefully calculated, they weren’t so much a performance as letting her own instincts do the work. The man was more gentle than most, so there was no need to pretend that it was enjoyable.
She grinned as he became bolder in his actions, fingers searching between her legs as he pushed her back against the wall. Again her eyes closed with pleasure, her breathing becoming more rapid. As he entered her, Deshra gave a soft moan. She appreciated the thought towards her own enjoyment, and yet he was the one who was doing the payment. Her pleasure only mattered in that it was in service of his own, so she was sure to convey the full extent of her satisfaction. When someone was skilled there was very little acting needed to encourage him that he was doing a good job.
Deshra leaned in towards the man, taking his words as encouragement, as she slid her own hand up the side of his leg. “Tell me what you need,” she whispered breathlessly in his ear. “Your wish is my command.” There was very little if anything that Deshra wasn’t willing to do for the right price. Not that Deshra expected it to be anything particularly interesting. What most men wanted usually fell within the same small range of acts, though it was always intriguing when she got one that wanted something different.
Zoser, as a general rule of thumb, felt significant compassion towards those who crossed his path. By Egyptian standards, this was a significant character flaw, yet, having spent most of his life in Greece, it was a core element of what made him entirely unique. In Greece, stoicism and control was strictly established in every element of life, and Zoser embraced that in nearly every aspect of his life - except in these moments behind closed doors.
There was passion that burned fully in the blood of every Egyptian, something he had discovered as he became a man. Despite whatever teasing that may have come his way given his mannerisms and almost delicate-by-comparison demeanor within the higher rungs of Egyptian society, he was a completely different person when alone with a woman.
As thoughtful as he may have been with the very few women he held feelings for in his life, both in Egypt and in Greece, he was nearly the complete opposite when within the walls of a pleasure house. Despite his usual nature, Zoser tended to revel in debauchery at its finest. It was one of the things that made it so uncomfortable to fully give into it - why he resisted it, even.
Many men could binge in their drinks or in the fragrant fumes of opium - but for Zoser, it was too easy to become intoxicated on the wants and wills of two bodies intertwined, writhing and reaching, grappling for full satisfaction by whatever means necessary.
So, when Deshra spoke the words, Zoser completely shed the man who worked within the Palace walls, the one who had trained the minds of nobles and had been placed in the highest regard of the Queen of Egypt, in an almost fatherlike capacity, and indulged in Deshra's body in excess, until they were both gleaming with sweat and sprawled with one another across the tousled pillows and bedcoverings, now stained with the marks of passion, sweat, and now the sticky residue of honey that dripped along her thighs and down his chin.
It took a moment for him to regain his bearings as he practically peeled himself from across her prone form, almost sleepily grinning like an overfed cat. His hand tousled through his mussed silvery curls and he licked his lips briefly a moment before attempting to wipe away the residue with the back of his forearm.
Pulling three coins from his coinpurse, he smiled down at Deshra as she lay in the bed, looking thoroughly debased in the best way possible. He placed each of the coins in equal down the center of her ribcage between her breasts. In this state, he was amused by the silliest of things, he supposed.
"Remind me not to wait so long to visit you again, Deshra, my dear," he teased, bending down to pick up his clothing and begin to redress himself and started making his way to the door.
He made the slightest face as some of the fabric folds adhered to his thighs, a result of the honey.
Next stop, the bathhouses.
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Jun 27, 2020 14:31:34 GMT
Posted In A Man in Need on Jun 27, 2020 14:31:34 GMT
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Zoser, as a general rule of thumb, felt significant compassion towards those who crossed his path. By Egyptian standards, this was a significant character flaw, yet, having spent most of his life in Greece, it was a core element of what made him entirely unique. In Greece, stoicism and control was strictly established in every element of life, and Zoser embraced that in nearly every aspect of his life - except in these moments behind closed doors.
There was passion that burned fully in the blood of every Egyptian, something he had discovered as he became a man. Despite whatever teasing that may have come his way given his mannerisms and almost delicate-by-comparison demeanor within the higher rungs of Egyptian society, he was a completely different person when alone with a woman.
As thoughtful as he may have been with the very few women he held feelings for in his life, both in Egypt and in Greece, he was nearly the complete opposite when within the walls of a pleasure house. Despite his usual nature, Zoser tended to revel in debauchery at its finest. It was one of the things that made it so uncomfortable to fully give into it - why he resisted it, even.
Many men could binge in their drinks or in the fragrant fumes of opium - but for Zoser, it was too easy to become intoxicated on the wants and wills of two bodies intertwined, writhing and reaching, grappling for full satisfaction by whatever means necessary.
So, when Deshra spoke the words, Zoser completely shed the man who worked within the Palace walls, the one who had trained the minds of nobles and had been placed in the highest regard of the Queen of Egypt, in an almost fatherlike capacity, and indulged in Deshra's body in excess, until they were both gleaming with sweat and sprawled with one another across the tousled pillows and bedcoverings, now stained with the marks of passion, sweat, and now the sticky residue of honey that dripped along her thighs and down his chin.
It took a moment for him to regain his bearings as he practically peeled himself from across her prone form, almost sleepily grinning like an overfed cat. His hand tousled through his mussed silvery curls and he licked his lips briefly a moment before attempting to wipe away the residue with the back of his forearm.
Pulling three coins from his coinpurse, he smiled down at Deshra as she lay in the bed, looking thoroughly debased in the best way possible. He placed each of the coins in equal down the center of her ribcage between her breasts. In this state, he was amused by the silliest of things, he supposed.
"Remind me not to wait so long to visit you again, Deshra, my dear," he teased, bending down to pick up his clothing and begin to redress himself and started making his way to the door.
He made the slightest face as some of the fabric folds adhered to his thighs, a result of the honey.
Next stop, the bathhouses.
Zoser, as a general rule of thumb, felt significant compassion towards those who crossed his path. By Egyptian standards, this was a significant character flaw, yet, having spent most of his life in Greece, it was a core element of what made him entirely unique. In Greece, stoicism and control was strictly established in every element of life, and Zoser embraced that in nearly every aspect of his life - except in these moments behind closed doors.
There was passion that burned fully in the blood of every Egyptian, something he had discovered as he became a man. Despite whatever teasing that may have come his way given his mannerisms and almost delicate-by-comparison demeanor within the higher rungs of Egyptian society, he was a completely different person when alone with a woman.
As thoughtful as he may have been with the very few women he held feelings for in his life, both in Egypt and in Greece, he was nearly the complete opposite when within the walls of a pleasure house. Despite his usual nature, Zoser tended to revel in debauchery at its finest. It was one of the things that made it so uncomfortable to fully give into it - why he resisted it, even.
Many men could binge in their drinks or in the fragrant fumes of opium - but for Zoser, it was too easy to become intoxicated on the wants and wills of two bodies intertwined, writhing and reaching, grappling for full satisfaction by whatever means necessary.
So, when Deshra spoke the words, Zoser completely shed the man who worked within the Palace walls, the one who had trained the minds of nobles and had been placed in the highest regard of the Queen of Egypt, in an almost fatherlike capacity, and indulged in Deshra's body in excess, until they were both gleaming with sweat and sprawled with one another across the tousled pillows and bedcoverings, now stained with the marks of passion, sweat, and now the sticky residue of honey that dripped along her thighs and down his chin.
It took a moment for him to regain his bearings as he practically peeled himself from across her prone form, almost sleepily grinning like an overfed cat. His hand tousled through his mussed silvery curls and he licked his lips briefly a moment before attempting to wipe away the residue with the back of his forearm.
Pulling three coins from his coinpurse, he smiled down at Deshra as she lay in the bed, looking thoroughly debased in the best way possible. He placed each of the coins in equal down the center of her ribcage between her breasts. In this state, he was amused by the silliest of things, he supposed.
"Remind me not to wait so long to visit you again, Deshra, my dear," he teased, bending down to pick up his clothing and begin to redress himself and started making his way to the door.
He made the slightest face as some of the fabric folds adhered to his thighs, a result of the honey.