A man.

Selkine brushes a lock of her rich red hair out of her ruby eyes. "Are those...cows on your boxer shorts?"

"It's all I had clean this morning," you tell her.

She shakes her head with a smile, then takes you by the hand and leads you back to her canopied, four-posted bed. She's still smiling at your boxers as she draws you up onto the silk sheets with her. "I'll bet that the minstrels who have been composing ballads about your heroism don't know you have shorts with cows on them."

"Well," you tell her, your hand sliding down her silk-clad thigh, "I happen to know one of your secrets as well."

"Oh?"

You shift down the bed so you're kneeling at her bare feet. While she watches with interest, you take one of her snow-white feet into your lap. "I happen to know that you like your toes played with."

Her brows rise. "Who told you that?"

"It's true, isn't it?"

"Yes, but..."

She trails off with a growl as you trace the sole of her foot with your thumb. When you start to massage her foot in earnest, she surrenders entirely and lets her head fall back into the pillow, while she spreads her arms out over the bedsheets.

You explore her entire foot, from the heel to the sole to every individual toe. As you touch her, Selkine coos and purrs and wiggles in her silk pajamas. When you kiss one of her toes, she twitches. When you lick her toe, she draws a deep gasp.

A little more attention from your lips and tongue has her clutching at the bedsheets. She lifts her head and looks down at you, eyes alight, and she asks you...