Pinocchio

Once upon a time, there was a woodcarver named Giovanna. She was the best wood carver in all of Italy. She could make anything as long as it was made out of dead tree. Sparrows of rosewood so detailed that one could count the ridges on every feather. Miniature houses of cedar lovingly realized and painted. Abstract driftwood sculptures that made even the most ignorant philistine ask "Hmmmm... What is art?". As she grew older she only sharpened her craft, and by the time she had hit her mid 40s there wasn't a single person who knew more about wood and what to do with it than her.

Unfortunately this was 19th century Italy, and nobody gave a flying fuck about miniature sparrows or abstract driftwood art. So Giovanna had to resign herself to making tables and chairs for her neighbors in her small village; a menial and impoverished existence, as her perfectionism would only allow her to work at a snails pace. It would take her weeks to finish a table that an imbecile with a hammer and some 2x4s could hack together in an afternoon.

She was also smoking hot, with high cheekbones and an angular jaw, and dark brown hair that would cascade down her shoulders if she didn't always have it tied into a practical bun. Years of labor had left her body toned and fit. Think Monica Bellucci from Spectre if Monica Bellucci wore overalls and was always covered in sawdust.

Its not like she wanted to be single. She dated. She dated a lot. There was certainly no shortage of guys willing to court her, even now. Its just that guys don't really want to hear a 2 hour lecture on the pros and cons of different wood stains. About 10 years ago she started a line of ornate, silky smooth, Mahogany dildos. She had a lot of practice both making and testing them. Unfortunately, since this is a CHYOA fantasy story, women didn't need to look farther than the nearest goblin/minotaur/family member for a good lay, so they didn't sell very well.

So there she was. Almost 50, single, poor, and pretending to be happy about it.