![Pleasure Island [The Chronicles of Lidir]](https://fs.ageofbook.com/555395/thumbs/152x264/pleasure-island-the-chronicles-of-lidir.png)
the dark hair, then the blue-grey glint of steel. Every muscle in her limbs locked; her eyes turned forwards, very slowly. The captain passed, turned, looked down at her. She averted her gaze by turning her eyes very gradually to the right. She could feel the power of those green strong eyes still, though she stared at the table. In that first glance, Anya had noticed that under his good arm he carried a rolled-up chart. And now all she could hear was the parchment creaking. The girl on the chair moved. She put the half-eaten fruit carefully aside and got up slowly. The steward stopped what he was doing and stood by the end of the table; for the first time he looked in Anya's direction, but now that extra pair of eyes upon her only added to her plight.
Having hesitated, as though he might have been surprised at Anya's presence, but without acknowledging this fact - indeed, without acknowledging anybody's presence - the captain then walked round the table and the steward to the chair, cleared a space in front of it, placed the chart on the table, unbuckled his sword with one hand, hung it over the back of the chair and sat down.
He unrolled the chart and pinned it open with the back of the double hook. The fingers of his right hand drummed upon the surface of the parchment. It was now the only sound in the room. The steward, his arms folded across his breast, waited. The girl stood to the captain's left and a little behind him. Her hand stretched across the back of the chair, stroking the dense orange cloth. She looked at Anya. The steward looked at Anya. But the captain still pored over his parchment. To Anya, the air in the room felt very warm. The girl's hand gradually advanced; it dangled forwards from the back of the chair; it touched and stroked the thick black hair, then moved round. The fingertips settled around the long soft earlobe and began to play with it, gently pulling, lightly squeezing. The chart was now propped open between a jug of wine and a bowl. The captain sat back, resting his head against one of the soft heavy wings of the chair. His right hand came round and touched the girl's belly. Encouraged, she sat sideways on the armrest, with the captain's hand upon her belly, above the plaited twine, testing the well of her navel and touching the soft pale hair below it. Behind the girl was the captain's left arm and curving round now and fitted to the underside of her breast was the double hook of steel.
Anya could feel the moisture forming under her arms. The yellow woollen stockings tickled her where they clung against her thighs. The pouch was biting; the drawstrings nipped her flesh lips. The drawstrings were unyielding; the passage of blood into her flesh was one way and the more her flesh swelled, the more the pouch bit, the more it made her flesh lips fill with blood until, standing as she was now, with her thighs together, she could feel it like a soft leather creature pressed against the ticklish skin at the tops of her inner thighs. It made her think of the way Travix had touched her between the legs and the way the two men who had bathed her had wanted to prolong that bathing, keeping her in the water, recharging it when it turned cold, opening her flesh repeatedly to the flood of warmth and playing gently with her nubbin.
And now, the girl's leg was slowly lifted astride the dense round armrest. Her bottom eased forwards and her head moved back. Her blonde hair, with its thin strands, lay beside the captain's dense black mane. Her soft complexion pressed against the bushy eyebrows, lay skin to skin against the wrinkled cheek. Between her thighs, the pale blonde curls had separated and the lips had opened to a bright red eye. The bottom edged forwards again; below the bright eye was a smaller tight one, its eyelids squeezed shut, brown. And now it was the brown eye that the captain's fingertips sought to taste, while the girl's own hands descended over her belly and slipped
Having hesitated, as though he might have been surprised at Anya's presence, but without acknowledging this fact - indeed, without acknowledging anybody's presence - the captain then walked round the table and the steward to the chair, cleared a space in front of it, placed the chart on the table, unbuckled his sword with one hand, hung it over the back of the chair and sat down.
He unrolled the chart and pinned it open with the back of the double hook. The fingers of his right hand drummed upon the surface of the parchment. It was now the only sound in the room. The steward, his arms folded across his breast, waited. The girl stood to the captain's left and a little behind him. Her hand stretched across the back of the chair, stroking the dense orange cloth. She looked at Anya. The steward looked at Anya. But the captain still pored over his parchment. To Anya, the air in the room felt very warm. The girl's hand gradually advanced; it dangled forwards from the back of the chair; it touched and stroked the thick black hair, then moved round. The fingertips settled around the long soft earlobe and began to play with it, gently pulling, lightly squeezing. The chart was now propped open between a jug of wine and a bowl. The captain sat back, resting his head against one of the soft heavy wings of the chair. His right hand came round and touched the girl's belly. Encouraged, she sat sideways on the armrest, with the captain's hand upon her belly, above the plaited twine, testing the well of her navel and touching the soft pale hair below it. Behind the girl was the captain's left arm and curving round now and fitted to the underside of her breast was the double hook of steel.
Anya could feel the moisture forming under her arms. The yellow woollen stockings tickled her where they clung against her thighs. The pouch was biting; the drawstrings nipped her flesh lips. The drawstrings were unyielding; the passage of blood into her flesh was one way and the more her flesh swelled, the more the pouch bit, the more it made her flesh lips fill with blood until, standing as she was now, with her thighs together, she could feel it like a soft leather creature pressed against the ticklish skin at the tops of her inner thighs. It made her think of the way Travix had touched her between the legs and the way the two men who had bathed her had wanted to prolong that bathing, keeping her in the water, recharging it when it turned cold, opening her flesh repeatedly to the flood of warmth and playing gently with her nubbin.
And now, the girl's leg was slowly lifted astride the dense round armrest. Her bottom eased forwards and her head moved back. Her blonde hair, with its thin strands, lay beside the captain's dense black mane. Her soft complexion pressed against the bushy eyebrows, lay skin to skin against the wrinkled cheek. Between her thighs, the pale blonde curls had separated and the lips had opened to a bright red eye. The bottom edged forwards again; below the bright eye was a smaller tight one, its eyelids squeezed shut, brown. And now it was the brown eye that the captain's fingertips sought to taste, while the girl's own hands descended over her belly and slipped
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