A bath would be perfect

The evening saw steam rise in thick curls from the copper tub in Riva's bedchamber. After dismissing the servants with thanks, Riva prepared to step into the tub when she caught a glimpse of herself in the tall mirror standing against one wall. She stood there for a long moment, completely naked, letting her gaze travel slowly from the crown of her dark hair down to the curve of her calves. She studied her reflection with a sense of satisfaction. Her face looked back at her with sharp, dark eyes, those eyes that held promises of mischief and play when she was younger. My eyes still have those promises, she thought, although...the mischief and play are certainly not childish anymore. The corners of her mouth lifted in a small, knowing smile.

Lower, the full weight of her breasts rested high and heavy, their dusky nipples tightening into hard peaks in the chill. She reached up, cupping them in her palms, squeezing the lush flesh to watch how it spilled between her fingers. Her gaze drifted down to the inward curve of her waist, down to where it flared out into the wide, generous swell of her hips. She ran her palms down the smooth, tawny plane of her stomach, then reached behind her, splaying her fingers across the firm, rounded curve of her ass. She shifted her weight, twisting her torso to admire the way her backside lifted and shaped itself, a perfect, inviting weight that could draw every eye, from the marketplace to the throneroom.

Riva let out a contented sigh. At nearly forty, she possessed a ripeness that the younger girls of the court could only dream of. The knowledge that she could still make a grown man stumble in his tracks or a street urchin forget his greed just by flashing a shoulder or swaying her hips warmed her more than the bathwater. Mmm...oh yes, the bath! I hope the water hasn't cooled.

She let her hands drift lower, tracing the wet folds between her legs, then turned and stepped into the tub.