Nothing, for now. She already had plans for the night.

Alessandra found it hard to believe how different her apartment was compared to the rest of the castle. The margrave had done his best to keep her here for as long as possible.

The cold, stone walls were all covered with majestic tapestries, which depicted the courts of the rulers of the Far East, their rituals, and their love life. Beautifully crafted works of mystic art as well as stylized Indian furniture gave the room an oriental atmosphere. Transparent, gossamer curtains hung from the ceiling, dividing the large bedroom into smaller sections. Her white, marble bathing tub – a truly generous gift from the householder – was standing in one of such subsections, now surrounded with candles and burning incense. The Gypsy loved the delicate scent of aloe. It made her feel at home. It made her feel at ease.

Alessandra rarely wore any of her gowns in the sanctuary of this room therefore, when someone knocked at the door, she bid her visitor enter, clad only in her robe-de-chambre with the waistband untied. The door opened and a person entered her apartment. When she turned around she was not surprised to see Nthanda, a handsome, mulatto manservant. He was some twenty years old, as far as Alessandra could tell, which made him some ten years younger than she was. He was at least six feet tall (but not at all hulking), looking very elegant in the livery of the Kaltenbach family. The woman was quick to notice that Nthanda’s lips were dark in color, soft in texture and tempting. His face was angular and exotic and his dark brown eyes gentle; the eyes of a man born into slavery.

There was a moment of silence as the man’s gaze descended, starting at the valley of her breasts, sliding down her toned stomach until it reached the woman’s private parts. The man quickly regained his composure, though, and met Alessandra’s undecipherable regard with the equanimity suitable for his profession. She stood in front of him, exposed, unabashed, and smiling inconspicuously.

“You called, mistress?” the man asked politely.

“Indeed, I have” the Gypsy answered, turning away and moving towards the bed.

The subtle sway of her hips unfailingly caught Nthanda’s attention. The woman strolled across the room, past one of the transparent curtain ‘walls’. Still with her back to the boy she ran both her hands through the long waves of her jet-black hair and then lay gracefully on her canopied bed of velvet pillows. From there, with a motion of her index finger, she beckoned the **** to come closer.

“I just had my bath prepared” she said nonchalantly when he was standing next to her “and I could use a bath attendant.”

“Mistress, I… I am but a manservant.” Alessandra almost smiled when she saw how much effort he put into keeping his calm. She noticed his stare every time it darted to her exposed, left nipple and to her crotch, partially obscured by her folded legs. “I know nothing of the tasks… of the proper etiquette to…”

“You don’t need to” the woman interrupted. “I heard you have some experience as a masseur. That will do.” She looked him up and down. “Now, you may wish to remove the clothes from your waist up. They could get wet, you know.”

Alessandra patted her lower lip with her index finger, watching the dark-skinned boy's muscles flex as he exposed his well-built frame. This was going to be a lot of fun. She would take her time, enjoy this boy’s service and if he’d do a good job – and she knew he would – she’d reward him. She would give him the time of his life.