Anal

"Oh, First Officer!"

The Experimental Ensign has taken a dancing step back, away and aside, and smirks as she lifts the hem of her dress. Your eyes follow the creamy fabric over shapely legs and to the outline of her sex. Her moans have you entranced, and you step closer – close enough to touch.

Then the sword pommel hits you square in the chest.

"You’re an idiot." She smiles as she guides you back against the firm comfort of her hallway wall. "You okay? Can you stand? Can you breathe? You should’ve – I’m sorry, I really am. And I hope I didn’t hit – let me see."

You, wheezing, assure her that it is fine.

You are fine.

Your Health is now: [4] – Unharmed

"I’m glad." Her tone is flat, but her hand trembles as she touches it to the bruise.

Your breath has returned, but your heart is beating faster.

"Good." She presses a tasselled scabbard into your hand and, stepping away, motions you to follow. "So, what’s your fancy? Fencing or ...?"

Laughing hurts, and you are not fool enough to fall for the same prank twice. And so she, snickering too, leads you up two more flights of chairs and to the room set aside for sparing. High walls, more exposed brickwork, welcome you and steady your breathless touch. Roof beams and airy windows separate the open expanse between, and even the grain of the hardwood flooring follows distinct lanes.

Two sailors have taken the rightmost spot, their blades flashing in the lantern light and gleaming with the Liar Stars. Metal clashes against metal and you almost miss her hand around yours, pulling you to the one on the far left.

The Experimental Ensign slips off her shoes and, barefoot, levels her blade at you. "Let’s dance."