Mauvelle laid alone on a massive bed. She wore layers upon layers of exotic fabric, all shaped to fit both her and the trends of the day. On top was a conservative cloak of green, revealing not an inch of skin from jaw to toe. Of course, all those layers had carefully covered slits to allow easy access to her prized assets.
On any other day, she would have leapt at the chance to fall asleep in the rich, thick blankets that were piled around her. On any other day, the bed would have been the first and foremost of her concerns.
But on this day, it was hope and the unknown that dominated her thoughts. If he won, he would come to claim his prize and do with it as he pleased. If he lost, then he might come, he might not, but even if he did visit her, it would not be a pleasant experience. Fulfilling, yes, considerate, yes, but he would not be happy and so neither would she.