Go talk to Harietta

After a few minutes of sitting alone by the fire you decide you need to try to help this situation. Harietta might think it a little odd if you went over to talk to her husband, so you decide to talk to her first. You get up and walk softly over to where Harietta lies on her side with her plump body wrapped up in the heavy wool blanket. Her back is turned to her husband and to the fire. You can see she is still awake so you walk past her and sit down beside her.

"Don't even bother," she says. "He's like this all the time."

"Tell me what the problem is," you say.

She sits up, the blanket falling from her shoulder and revealing the vast expanse of her cleavage. She was going to sleep in that corset? Now that's a commitment to decolletage.

"It's like I said, he treats me like a piece of meat. Bends me over or lays me down on my back whenever he wants it, always needing to get in and get off as quick as possible." She looks at you pointedly. "To be honest, I'm thinking about giving up on men entirely."

You feel your face flushing a little.

"So he doesn't satisfy you with foreplay?" You ask and then smile, maybe a bit more flirtatiously then you intended because she starts fluttering her eyelashes.

"That's right, hun," she says. "Sometimes I have an itch and he doesn't even ask if I need it scratched."

Harietta reaches her pudgy hand over and lays it on your thigh. "I have that itch right now. Want to scratch it for me?"