Queen Samira and the Ritual [M Late 20’s] [F 20’s] [Heterosexual – M/F] [Wealthy woman, Poor Man] [Public]

Queen Samira, pampered and worshiped since birth, sighed in boredom. In a shallow bath the length of an entire commoner’s home, she leaned back near the edge. A servant clothed in little but a sheer cotton loincloth placed a plush cushion before her head could hit the sharp edge. The water steamed around her, fragrant water soaking into her skin and making her ample bosom bounce lightly as it reached just under her armpits. Surrounded in luxury, red painted walls decorated with vibrant blue and gold accents- she only saw tedium!

The clergy suggested a bath in the temple would cleanse her of any worries- but it did nothing but bore her further. She’d sat in the thing for less than a tenth of the time it took to prepare it before groaning. Standing, she waded to the steps leading further in where a swarm of female servants swaddled her in linens and guided her to a reclined chair to moisturize her skin with oils and perfumes.

One of the servants, someone closer to her age, massaged oils into her breast first. This was perhaps the better part of getting out of a bath.

Dirk Longpole and the Mistress of the Manor [M Late 20’s] [F 20’s] [Heterosexual – M/F] [CNC] [Enemies to Lovers]

Dirk Longpole, vampire hunter and protector of humanity reached his destination, the manor house of a vampire rumored to have preyed upon the locals of the village. Long french windows climbed high into the cloudy, gloom filled night sky. Ivy rested at its sides and at its feet lay black dead leaves. It felt colder being so close. In his tattered duster and wide brim hat, which was in poor condition, he shivered and hurried to the door. Though before he burst in, he took a moment to pray.

Garlic hung in a necklace around his neck, and a vial of holy water pressed against him in his pocket. A golden cross was tucked into his shirt for extra protection. All he had to do would be to hold out until sunrise.

BAM

The door crashed open as he rushed in, clutching the cross in his fist tightly.

Footsteps muffled by the deep purple runner that spanned a long hallway, he crept forward. Fire lit chandeliers cast wavering light in circles, though there was a deep darkness between each gap. Frowning, he let go of the cross and listened, turning his head in the direction of every door lining the halls.