"Yes," You continue, standing up and walking to the window. "Fame, wealth, power, I have it all! I just don't have one thing, and you possess it, my fair lady-" You turn around and slightly flinch. You rub your eyes as you look again. Did you see things? You thought you saw...a slight bulge protruding from her dress.
You shake your head. Here come's an opportunity of a lifetime, and you are here dawdling in idle thoughts. It is way the shadows fall across her lap or... a crease in the fabric. Your heart beasts a little faster. Could it even be... a chastity belt? That sultry pout of her lips, the way she holds your gaze with such forwardness, even the manner in which she sits, legs parted... her whole body screams that of a sensual, even wanton woman desperately in need of a man. No doubt a woman of high standing given over to such passions would be needing of a chastity belt. No doubt a stout one judging by how it tents her skirts.
Seeming to catch your gaze, she shifts lightly in her seat, crossing her legs elegantly and dropping her hands lightly into her lap. She blushes nervously, playing with the satin of her skirts. Biting her lip, she lowers her gaze and says, "And what is this thing that I possess, that you are so keen to get your hands on?"
"Wh-why your knob - uh, your noble line of course," you bluster. Remembering to whom you speak, you hurriedly add, "I hope you don't think me too forward in this, my lady."
She laughs delicately, raising one hand to her mouth, while the other remains resolutely in her lap. "Oh, no not at all. I admire a man who knows what he wants and is open about it. But is that all you want of me?" she inquires, leaning forward intently. Her elbow rests on the table, her arm underneath her bust lifting the soft flesh of one breast until it seems almost ready to pop from its brazier. Her little finger plays with the tip of the spoon in the teacup.
You swallow hard. Impetuously you throw yourself into the seat opposite her, seizing both of her dainty hands in your own. She shifts her chair forward a little under the table. "Of course it is not only your title and lineage that I seek, my dear!" you gasp. "You are far more to me than that. Those things are merely the tools with which I will give you the life that a woman of your bearing, of your beauty truly deserves."
She squeezes your hands. "Do go on."
Your heart pounds in your chest. "I will shower you with riches the likes of which you have never seen. Gold. Gems. Expensive perfumes from the east. Our wedding will be in the cathedral itself and you will have a dozen servant girls to carry your train, which will be of the finest lace. And afterwards I shall find us an estate to call our own, where we shall live out our lives in perfect love and contentment."
"How wonderful," she replies, eyes glittering with happiness.
"And you shall be the belle of the king's court. All the ladies will look upon you, green with envy, at every banquet and ball as you promenade in the finest silken dresses."
"That sounds magical," she sighs, moving closer across the table, so close her lips are almost touching yours.
"And in time, through our love, you shall bear me many healthy, wonderful children. With your beauty and my brains. And they shall be named Joshua and Mir-"
"Go back to the part about the balls," Casandra interrupted suddenly.
"Balls?"
"Yeah, will the king be at these balls?"
An odd question. "Of course."
"I have never seen the king before," she says, a wistful look in her eye. Her fingers stroke the back of your hand. "Could I meet him?"
"Why of course!"
The soft sole of her slipper nudges against the side of your leg beneath the table. You sit bolt upright in your chair as her foot strokes ever so slowly up and down the side of your calf. "Would you introduce me?"
"I-I would be deli- nothing would bring me more happiness than to show you off - show you to the king."
"Would you do it... soon?"
"Y-yes."
"Tomorrow?"
"T-tomorrow?" you echo incredulously.
She smiles sweetly. "Yes, tomorrow. For, as you know, I am many months travel from my homeland. Unable as I am to ask my father's permission to marry you, I must instead ask permission of the king." The soft touch of her foot withdraws suddenly. "Unless of course you wish to wait. I could always send a letter if you'd prefer. Assuming the weather is right and that the message does not get intercepted by bandits along the way, we could be wedded by, oh, next winter?" She nodded.
"Next winter?!" you gasp. "No! My lady, prepare your finest clothes, for tomorrow you shall have an audience with the king."
Her lips curl into a toothy grin. "Wonderful," she purrs.
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