Anat smoothed the fabric running her hands over it. She draped it against her body and let it’s folds slide through her fingers. It was exquisite, like liquid gold spun into silk. It was like holding water. She smiled after her inspection and nodded.
“This one. It’s perfect.”
It had been perfect when she chosen it and it was perfect now. Anat pulled the length of fabric from her chest and held it up to inspect. It had been kept safely, even in all of her travels and the care they had taken to transport her finer things had paid off. It was no different then the day she had purchased it except maybe for the faint creases where it had been folded, but that was remedied easily.
Carefully she laid it out over a chair before drawing her bath. The steam that rose from the water relaxed the lines from the silk without damaging it. Quickly the air filled with the scent of amber and sandalwood and Anat stepped into the scalding water. For the first few moments she just let the heat consume her. It invaded her pores and warmed her body. She breathed in deeply. Her evening would start in ritual, but she hoped that it would end somewhere entirely different.
Despite the nights promise of distraction Anat attended her devotions with perfect focus. She would offer nothing less and she was well practiced at keeping rogue thoughts at bay. It was the plane ride that tested her patience. She expressed no discontent but it felt to her that time deemed it fit only to travel at a pace that would irritate her. While her requiem centered around an event with no horizon she didn’t do well waiting for things in her more foreseeable future. It was worth it though, in the end it almost always was.
Octavius smiled at the sight at her a hint of the carnal knowledge they shared dancing in his eyes. Had she been a different person she may have flushed at being looked at in such a manner but she wasn’t and instead she returned the gaze. Pleasantries didn’t last long between them. They never did. Too quickly were words silenced with a kiss and hands made too busy with other things to punctuate statements of profound tedium. Anat preferred it that way. Octavius never asked her to endure the boring exchanges that began most encounters. There was no wasted time between them. No moments lost to the protocol that was the Camarilla. It wasn’t that they never spoke on important matters, those conversations just came later…or during. Anat found it refreshing.
The two of them had a language all their own, one that was spoken skin against skin. Their alphabet was fingertips dancing in soft caresses or the roughness of nails and teeth. It was a simpler state of being and one that Anat reveled in. Pleasure always came first. Business would follow or, if it deemed to do so, would escape between moans of ecstasy.
Anat rested against his chest, her eyes drifting to the discarded pile of silk. She smiled. It had been chosen so carefully to be thrown away so easily. There was a comfort in the stillness between them. No accelerated heartbeats or quickened breath and their skin remained as cool and dry as marble. He shifted, moving a hand to her now disheveled hair. When he spoke his voice was soft by her ear.
“Now my question is, Bella, tomorrow night who shall be tied and who will do the tying?”
She could hear the impish grin in his voice but she pushed herself upright so that she could see it anyway. The smile she returned was wry and mischievous.
“We could always take turns if we get an early enough start.”
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