Interesting description,
tension, to illustrate the atmosphere. Anesia flourished under these types of conditions and more often than not, created them.
"Tell me, Circe," this time her words were spoken into the woman's mouth first, skating on that very thin line of contact,
"how prepared are you?" Long stemmed legs began a journey, just a slight caress in the beginning, then a nudge, attempting to make the other dark lady walk backwards. Had [member="Enigma"] made for such an allowance -another master- in many ways directing another, her ample bottom would have hit the edge of the metal desk just meters astern.
A lightly flushed, roseate cheek had saddled up to Circe's, decadent lips just at her ear,
"What is it, Lady Savan," a brush of a plush, rouge mouth grazed the smooth, perfect skin along the curve of her jaw, just a second south of where she'd been whispering,
"that you want?" A flutter of soft, black lashes was upon that same sensitive skin and she paused, stretching her fingers about the desk, so Anesia could lean in and over. The position enough to cause Subach's owner to practically perch or bend back, permitting this, having the Sith Master hovering above her. She smiled softly,
"No." There was a lull, a silence.
Then,
"You may however, give me a tour of this beautiful ship." With that, Anesia straightened and unbuttoned her blazer in one fluid motion. It had became quite hot recently in the small space. She would have liked not use her powers to control her temperature, when this was simply easier. Dependence solely on the Force tended to make people lazy and that was not the woman's forte. The delicate, but starched fabric slid off with ease and then was otherwise discarded to the same desk Circe was upon. A simple white, dress
blouse was revealed and tucked neatly into the matching skirt to the jacket.
