He had removed his abundance of clothing and was waist-deep in the shimmering pool. Her immediate thought was to take him unawares, her hand wandering...down to the obsidian knife on her hip, but she noticed that his staff was resting by the water’s edge. She didn’t dare approach him while it was in reach.Instead, she decided to observe him, watching as he cupped some of the clear water in his hands and poured it over his brown hair. His body was so strange, she had never seen one of his kind. At least the banter had banished any sad thoughts of Heather’s impending departure from Gotham City. Suddenly, she was jolted back into reality. They’d gone through the main doors, handed in tickets to a rather strange combination of Abraham Lincoln and Marilyn Monroe and were now next to the entrance to the main hall. In front of them was a temporary cloak-room and the attendant, dressed as a football team cheerleader, was reaching out for their cloaks. Suddenly this was the moment of truth. " Hold on. I want to talk to you." She is alone with me and very uncomfortable. Facing her, no more than two feet from her. I grin, looking her up and down and she gulps nervously. Out of habit, she has clasped her hands behind her back, something she had been taught growing up in Egypt. This had the effect of pulling her shoulders back, and thrusting her chest forward, placing a small strain on her dress. Her nipples are pushing hard against the fabric. I look at her as she stood in front of. "And just who told you that you could do that?" She demanded venomously."Er... no-one, Mistress, " I stammered, realising that I'd made a ghastly error. "No-one at all. I'm sorry..." Don't you like the taste of piss?" She demanded to know. As respectfully as I could, I advised my Mistress that I didn't. She then grabbed a one pint capacity pouring jug from its place in one of the cupboards and stormed off into the outside toilet. When She returned five minutes later, the jug was almost full of.
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