Antilorwe's hands moved over the parchment. Her bright hazel eyes hawked as she went reading the contents again. An audible sigh escaped her lips, one more time. Her white enamelled teeth, perfect and glittering even in the low light of her office, bit slowly on her peachy plump lips. Closing the parchment, she rubbed her eyes. This is will not improve. No matter the number of times she read the contract. It is not the clause that was the problem but rather Antilorwe herself. Concentration eluded her. She was simply wrong in presuming that her lewd activity in the bath would give her the respite that her body craved. On the contrary, a latent spark ignited; Antilorwe found herself getting more restless. Irritation and frustration ran through her being.

Reaching out a well-manicured hand, she grabbed the silver chalice carved with lotus flowers. Swirling the contents of the chalice, stirring them a bit, she brought it close to her nostrils to inhale the powerful scent. The wine was crisp, lightly cold with delicious spice promised in its aroma. Antilorwe quickly drowned the liquid down her throat. Her tummy lurched slightly as a secret smile flashed across her lips. Letting the sweetness flow through her dry and heated mouth, Antilorwe felt her irritation lessen for the moment. Her mind momentarily quieted as the liquid eroded her self-control, letting her mind roam effortlessly towards the forbidden desire.

Urganza -- she dreamt of those bright fiery amber eyes roaming wild and untamed, hypnotizing down her flesh, sending a flare through her midsection. There was something magnetic about those eyes, subtle and yet ruthless. It gave her shivers as well as filled her with warmth. Antilorwe could only marvel at the absurdity of it all.

How could one orc invoke both extreme emotions?

Her pulse quickened in anticipation of the Orc Overlord's callous hands, liberated from their black steel-encased gauntlets. Those sweetly musky hands gliding down her skin, tempting her and teasing her. Her thoughts raced on many things; the lightest of touches, teasingly slow caresses and the intoxication scents -- all led her stomach into a volcanic eruption, causing a million butterflies to flutter in her tummy.

Then there is Cyrene, with her innocent smile, plummeting her downwards into the never-ending spiral of delirious desires. Something about her smile, begging to be corrupted. Something about the act felt inherently wrong and yet delightful to perform at the same time. Lovely Cyrene in her exquisite layer of robes covering every part of her body, protecting her chastity like a drakaina protecting its offspring. The high-elf cannot help but fantasize about that alluring tender figure languidly moving under her scented silken bedsheet. The very thought of being the first one to view her virgin nudity made her heart slam against her breastbone like a caged animal. She longed to experience what it would be like to taste her beauty; the sounds that she could coax out of Cyrene during those moments. She yearned to feel the mage's tight little body twitching under her wanton stroking.

From behind the heavy oaken door of her study, Antilorwe could hear the almost silent thud of boots. Her entire being transformed into awareness as she heard the footsteps halt before the door. Her breathing slowed down, while a soft pleasant knock sounded on the door. Adjusting the folds of her skirts, and quickly running a hand over her hair, fixing her ivory hairpin, Antilorwe crossed the room. She found her maid in the doorway, looking at her with a wicked smile.

"Mistress, Your guest, the Orc High Lady Urganza is here," she reported, as her fingers wrenched the frills on the creamy white apron fastened around her waist, "I invited her to the parlour but she insisted on visiting the stables first."

"Why?" asked Antilorwe, almost flustered.

Her maid ignored her urgent eyes glaring at her, delighting in the sinful suffering of her mistress she paused for a perturbingly brief moment.

"The Orc High-Lady wants to secure her mount," said the maid.

Something about the way she pronounced the mount made it sound almost scandalous to Antilorwe.

"She came alone. No attendants, Mistress," added the maid with a twitch in her smile. Her brows tilted upwards, all pretence and flirty smiles lingering on her face as she watched her Mistress catch her meaning.

Antilorwe could barely stifle her grin." Prepare some refreshments for our Guest. I will receive her myself," instructed Antilorwe as she descended the stairs without bothering to dismiss the maid.

A delicate feeling came over her as she scurried towards the main hall's far end. What if, all of this, is just an elaborate plan by the dark elf? Or worse, if the powerful Orc decided to play by a different set of rules? Sure she was interested, even ignominiously craved the Orc, but it has to be on her terms; in a mutually consenting manner. What if the Orc decided to make a self-indulgent toy of her? To have her way with her, with callous disregard? After all, for the one heralded as the Overlord of the Orc, brutality and savagery are a primary requirement. Not taking no for an answer is just a by-product.

Taking a deep breath, she dispelled her dark cloud of apprehension and wrapped her hand around the silver handle of the engraved oaken door. Releasing the door with a creak, a warm ray of sunshine slowly kissed her skin as she stepped outside to greet Urganza. Stepping further out, she found the powerfully built Orc clad in modest leather breeches and a matching light green linen shirt. She rested her eyes on the thigh-length riding boots that adorned Urganza's feet. It made her wonder what else she was wearing under the layer of clothing.

Urganza herself bore no smile. Her jaws tightened, while her thick cords of muscles sprung and undulated beneath her skin as she tugged the reins of her thundertusk mount. The black lacquered blade topped her battle-axe, clasped with a tight leather harness on her back, sharp and menacing.

Her beast, ferocious and wild, eyed Antilorwe with primal fury as it snorted, raising a tusked maw, issuing a challenge. The elegant high-elf stood transfixed before its predatory dark eyes. Her feet refused to move. The beast snorted again pushing hot fiery breath. Antilorwe felt every hair on her skin, stand to attention as the hot current of air washed over her. Stamping its frontal hooves on the ground in a sign of aggression, the beast sent tremors along the ground, disturbing the pristinely lined row of orchids.

Urganza, slightly annoyed by the antics of her mount and with a singular growl forced the beast to submission.

Pressing a small curtsy bow Antilorwe, the Orc High-Lady looked up at the tall High-elf before her. Confronted with the Orc’s daunting frame, Antilorwe flashed a thin smile, her legs almost giving up beneath her. Suppressing her smirk, Urganza cracked her powerful shoulders. Her taut limbs, seemingly filled with thick steely muscles. Tying the reins of her mount, and giving it one more firm tug to ensure its effectiveness, Urganza took a step close towards the beautiful diplomat. A hint of desire twinkled in Urganza's smouldering amber eyes.

Antilorwe felt the alluring presence of the cool dark Orc, her pulse quickened, beating harder and faster against her throat. The midday sun, shone behind the Orc, outlining her already toned sinews with an ethereal glow. For an interminably fragile moment, Antilorwe wondered which shined brighter, the sun or the fiery amber eyes of Urganza. Undoubtedly, the twin orbs of embers staring at her won.

Smiling weakly, reminding herself to play coy, she greeted Urganza.

"Good tidings," she croaked out.

"I am sorry," replied Urganza sheepishly.

But the resonant raucous voice of the orc Overlord was overshadowed by the heavy pounding from Antilorwe's own racing heart. The elf Maiden’s arm lurched on its own; extending her slender hand, just slightly, revealing the smoothness of her forearm. An audible sigh escaped her peachy plump lips upon witnessing Urganza liberating her rugged sinewy hands from the confines of her black steel gauntlet. The orc’s large hands engulfed the High-elf's pale dainty wrist. Antilorwe froze in her wake as Urganza projected a unique talent with her touch; she felt her toes curl at the tender grasp of the callous hands. Strange. unfamiliar and intimate. Like the caress of a searing hot light, it flowed across Antilorwe's innermost soul; sparking a fierce desire in her already aching heart as her exposed flesh involuntarily responded to the Orc Overlord's touch, very much akin to the tender kisses of a lover.

Urganza shuddered at the wonderful softness in Antilorwe's palm. Her tongue itched to taste Antilorwe's flesh, licking along the pink tips of her fingers. Her whole body throbbed at the overwhelming response from the High-elf's pale limbs. It felt alluring and more wrong. She felt guilt, not just at the thought but also to her very core; for betraying Cyrene. But Antilorwe, the High-elf diplomat before her was tempting and deceptive. The soft press of the palms, tingling. An uncontrollable urge burst out of her chest, surging through her limbs and gut until her breast began to tingle and her loins clenched painfully. Urganza twisted the dainty pale hand in her firm grip, basking in its tenderness before willing herself to pull her hands back.

Filled with guilt and blaming herself for her failing sinful urges, Urganza accusingly glared back at Antilorwe.

The direct gaze from the broad set of the orc's eyes; sharp and focused were like a flaming javelin ready to pierce through the very skin and prick Antilorwe’s heart. She fought the raging urge to lean closer, to bask in the Orc's scent, and to feel the strangely magical touch that awakened sensual flares in her. She felt exhilarated at the thought of Urganza's hands prodding, caressing all over her naked skin. Her apprehension, suddenly fluttered like a butterfly, as a fierce smile tore across her lips.

"The journey was long. Would you like to freshen yourself? I will instruct the maid to warm the bath," she whispered huskily.

"I am sorry about your garden. He is usually well-tamed," replied Urganza.

The timbre in her tone, to anyone watching the curious exchange like the maid, told that the Orc did not register what was suggested. Nor did Antilorwe, who was lost in grappling with her own wanton desires.

"I should geld him but I wanted him to sire some offsprings, but gelding it is eventually," stammered Urganza, hiding her flustered self.

Antilorwe laughed. Her laughter fell like a peal with an almost matching trembling in her tall willowy frame.

Realising her mistake, Urganza chuckled softly.

The sound flowed through Antilorwe like an aria, haunting the echoes of her innermost mind.

"Tell me, Orc Overlord and High-Lady Urganza, is castration your opening topic for flirting with a beautiful girl? Does it always work?" teased Antilorwe.

Urganza lifted a brow, unable to hide her surprise. It seemed that anything she felt about the High elf was never correct. At the realisation, a wide grin morphed on her face, exposing a row of sharp jagged teeth. The sight was quite playful, to watch the brutal warrior blush and struggle. It made Antilorwe slightly intoxicated. Restraining her wild thoughts, suppressing the repulsive desire bubbling beneath her skin, she let her pearls of giggles fall around.

Urganza simply scoffed, amused at the coy attempts of Antilorwe. The twinkle in her amber orbs lingered like the sun on a pristine autumn morning. Her entire being, the gentle breeze that swirled around her shoulders, gave a warm fuzzy feeling.

Antilorwe, replying to Urganza's glare with an impish wink, clearly enjoying the suffering of the Orc, added, "So would you need any further assistance with the bath?"

"I just meant that as a typical orc thing. We are not prude," stammered Urganza. She coughed slightly as she realised the implication of the words thrown in haste.

Where did that come from?

She just insulted her host. In orc culture, her careless slippery words would have ignited a clan feud. With that realisation, her breathing became shallow, followed by an exhalation of hot air.

The brief heat wave washed over Antilorwe, lingering a bit longer than needed.

Urganza cursed beneath her breath. Remorse torn through her as she felt ashamed for feeling the intoxication rising from the scent of Antilorwe and more importantly, for craving it. She was supposed to ask Antilorwe for help with seducing Cyrene, not fall for her.

How long was it since the last time she felt that way? She could count a few years where her licentious desires lay dormant, only to suddenly flare like a raging conflagration.

Urganza groaned a suppression at her unexpected stimulation. It suddenly felt unnatural to feel this fire burning inside of her; a beast hidden for too long, waiting to be freed. Her limbs quivered at the realisation of it. She cannot let the beast rampage through, violating her second chance with Cyrene. Antilorwe was supposed to be a stepping stone for Urganza, to reach Cyrene. But damn it; all those flirting and fawning over her. Urganza cannot afford to lay flat on her first stepping stone. With a firm determination, she resolved to resist the intricate tug of the seductress before her.

"I will wash by the pool," she replied, glancing at the small pond of water, with a white marble fountain feeding fresh bubbling water into it.

"That is just a miniature lake for the manor," protested Antilorwe.

"I am not reserved," responded Urganza, her voice barely holding a trace of irritation. Urganza reasoned not to insult the hospitality of the Lady of the Manor and she added as an afterthought, "I am used to washing myself near streams and lakes. Such is life on battlefields. But the little joys make up for it."

"It is a shame that I am so reserved then?" remarked Antilorwe, maintaining her subtle demeanour and tact as she smiled radiantly at the beauty in front of her. But her smile was shortlived, dissolving into a ravenous lewd hunger as Urganza reached the edge of the pool and began to strip.

Urganza continued undressing, oblivious to the effect it had on the High elf. She carefully unbuckled her belt, peeling her tight breeches from her well-toned legs. Antilorwe suddenly found that the blush on her cheeky lips stained her smooth, waxy cheeks. Adjusting her demeanour, she beckoned her maid to bring a parasol. She was determined to enjoy the glorious visual treat before her eyes and she would do it leisurely in the comfort of a cool shade.

Shredding her linen shirt, Urganza quickly untied the scrap of cloth wrapped across for holding her breasts, releasing her wonderful mounds to the warm caress of the sun.

Behind Urganza, slowly trailing her and momentarily staggered, Antilorwe stood with jaws wide open. The cool softness of Urganza's broad back, exposing all the way down to the sculpted curves of her ass filled Antilowe with a deep sense of impatience. The sight of Urganza's smouldering skin, a rich vibrant green, shimmering richly, simply added to Antilorwe's arousal. Her breath became uneven, clogged. Antilorwe fell into a trance as her nerves played havoc in her forehead; imagination urged her to wrap her arms around the tempting muscle-encased torso.

Why can't she just lunge and hold herself against that broad back? Place sweet kisses on the Orc's neck; to let her tongue roll over the sweaty surface, sucking deep till the green skin turns dark red from ruptured blood vessels. Her stomach tightened with excitement. Only the thrust of the parasol in her hand by the maid, brought her raging senses back, grounding her in time to watch Urganza glide into the pool with a silent sigh.

Urganza moved swiftly, splashing herself, almost at the edge of the pool.

The barely audible ripples in the water, as the orc shifted awkwardly to wriggle into the shallow space left between the pool's edge and some boulders, was another siren call to Antilorwe. She could feel the solidity of her bones soften, giving way to an intangible sensation of melting. Clutching the parasol tightly, adjusting it to rest on her slender shoulders gingerly, Antilorwe asked, "Are you acquainted with the mage Cyrene?"

At Antilorwe's words, Urganza gasped sharply as she swiftly shifted to collect herself. The High-elf's question caught her off-guard. The heady aroma of the High-elf's intoxicating musk lingered around, stroking her nostrils, making her feel miserable for the untamed licentious sentiments ravaging through her. The attention of the High-elf made her cringe.

She was supposed to ignore the Orc and do what other high-nosed prissy elves normally do. Not linger close, with a leisurely stroll, swaying wide hips under the intricately engraved parasol. Every step she took, made the orc flush deep, too deep to match the tint of her skin. Her rhythmically waggling waist, incited heated emotions, stirring her body like waves along the shores of a moonlit ocean. Even though there was nothing tangible between Urganza and Cyrene, she could not ignore the deep sense of betrayal she felt in her heart when a razing liquid fire shredded through her midsection for the High-elf.

To dally with the alluring High-elf, while holding hope for Cyrene, Urganza simply felt cruel, heartless and rather savage.

Urganza narrowed her eyes on the parasol holding High-elf to find a quick answer. She could not comprehend why the diplomat would involve Cyrene in the conversation. Why Antilorwe would ask something so mundane such as how familiar she was with Cyrene? Asking something so trivial is unlike Antilorwe's intelligence; especially for someone with her social pedigree. Perhaps, there is something else. Were Cyrene and Antilorwe acquainted? Maybe more than casual friends? Close enough to warm their beds on winter nights? Is the tall High-elf diplomat the reason why Urganza could not claim a place in Cyrene's heart?

Urganza felt shocked. She should feel rage, hatred, animosity, wrath and any of the other thousand emotions slumbering under the surface that could ignite her racial blood rage. Instead, another sentiment rose like a giant tidal wave, submerging all other emotions. Never once had she envisioned such romantic liaisons. Cyrene never looked at her, let alone ever sought any romantic involvement. But it was a possibility that she harboured within her heart. The chance that Cyrene might look for any kind of relationship with the lowly orc, earned Urganza a trembling twinge in her soul. Even that sentiment was supplanted by something even more preposterous. Urganza frowned at the implication.

The very sight of Antilorwe and Cyrene, naked together, lit up with a clear light of pure lust, aroused her senses to their zenith. The tall elven woman holding Cyrene by the waist, coaxing the smaller girl to fondle her. Cyrene placing gentle kisses on the soft curves of Antilorwe, trailing her fingers through his thick damp her. Antilorwe reeling the small girl towards her with carnal lust. Their lower bodies touching like silk threads, moving as one, rhythmically. Both women, sweating and erratically breathing, Antilorwe pulling Cyrene by the chin, her tongue dancing inside the mage's mouth, playfully teasing the inviting lips of the mage. The beautiful High-elf woman and the delicate girl, their lips pressed together, exchanging soft moans as they suckled each other's tongues and kissed along the full length of their bodies.

Urganza's mind went blank. Nothing existed beyond the mind-blowing image of the two of them in an erotic embrace. Her mind roved, drowning in sexual imagery in her brain. But most of all, she was aroused. Aroused by the wanton display of raw sensuality displayed in the image. Unable to keep her eyes focused, feeling a shiver running through her spine, Urganza grew conscious of the stiffening of her own nipple. Frantically, she waved her hands, generating waves with the hope to hide her arousal from the scrutinizing gaze of the High elf.

A carefully camouflaged smile, only attained through decades of practising diplomacy, formed on Antilorwe's lips as she watched Urganza lather desperately trying to hide her turmoil. In response, the elven woman finally noticed that her own nipples were straining through the thin material of her blouse. Shuddering at the reaction from her own body, she slowly slackened her grip on the parasol. A deep blush cascaded through her; watching the unassailable warrior before her struggle to grapple with her own baser emotions.

Did desire flood through Urganza at the mention of Cyrene? or was that her own wishful thinking? To Antilorwe, it did not matter. She would tease the Orc, for time being.

"She is a rare beauty. None like you would ever lay your eyes upon. Tales abound over her pearly white skin carefully hidden behind those long flowing robes. Pristine complexion without any blemish that she has allowed none to touch" said Antilorwe with a pleasant smile and with a sultry sibilant note that made Urganza tremble further with lust. Her speech was tinged with an underlying meaning, meant to draw the desperate fiery passion of Urganza -- to boil the blood in the Orc’s veins.

Antilorwe tilted her head back slightly, allowing Urganza to view her exotic features. Her gaze flickered towards the squirming Orc, naked and all flustered, desperately hoping to submerge herself in the shallow waters to preserve her failing dignity.

"Her deep green eyes are mesmerizing. They sparkle like finely cut diamonds, reflecting the very vibrancy of life, while her lips, full and firm, seem carved from chiselled marble. Many a fool has tried to kiss those plump pink buds. And failed. Those creamy cheeks are so tempting to press tongue against. And then, I notice her thick raven-black hair. Long, flowing like from the crest of a mountain. Such a glorious gift of nature."

Antilorwe watched with a cruel twist of a smile, the way the tension gathered on Urganza's face, droplets falling down, almost imperceptibly, yet visibly glistening. Urganza wanted to say something. Anything. But words dislodged in her throat. She licked her lips hungrily, drooling saliva that glided across her parted deep amethyst purple lips.

Antilorwe could see that Urganza's lower lips trembled uncontrollably. The high-elf diplomat continued to stare, licking her lips in anticipation, savouring every single sublime salacious moment.

Urganza's fingers dug deeper into her palms as her heated body writhed despite the cool waters of the pool. The elucidation of the beauty of Cyrene drew her raging wildfire passion forth like an untamed infernal beast annihilating her self-control. It was true, Cyrene did possess a stunning physique. So lithe and graceful. Her milky white skin, raven dark hair, contrasting with the sparking green hue of her eyes. Urganza found the androgynous mage that Cyrene was, simply captivating, but now, the girl Cyrene; Urganza was already enthralled by the essence of those girlish charms. The image of her slender form moulded with sculptural precision, the gentle tiny developing bud of her breasts and the light dancing of freckles dotting the exposed contours of her bosom, gave rise to intense desires, feeding the hungry flames within her loins.

Antilorwe, feasting on the spectacle, found Urganza's strained transformation, adorable.

"I am no stranger to her. We briefly met during my wandering near Arlond," said Urganza with a hefty struggle to keep her voice coherent.

"Oh," was all Antilorwe could reply. She smiled thinly at Urganza, slowly shaking her head. She would draw out Urganza's latent desires -- whether the orc co-operates or not.

With a slowly mischievous grin forming on her face, Antilorwe stared at the Orc High-Lady and asked, "So in your opinion, do you think her an abomination to go against nature?"

"No, No! She merely sought to be a better form of herself. And what are you talking about, Antilorwe?!" cried Urganza frantically. Her composure crumbled as she shouted loudly, causing ripples in the water. The sound resonated between the empty walls of the manor garden, multiplying her emotions a hundredfold.

Antilorwe laughed softly at the sudden outburst from the hot-tempered orc. Despite herself being the object of the anger, she did not blame the distraught pain on the Orc's face. Her mouth remained agape as she stared at the fuming orc. After a hazy ambiguous moment, she let out a throaty chuckle. It wasn't necessarily sarcastic or mocking.

"Are you saying you love her?" she asked.

"I think she is quite lovely. Or she would be quite lovely. Yes! I adore her!" answered Urganza after some thought.

Antilorwe stared at the Orc. She never thought that Urganza was going to confess to anything, but the orc was incredibly frank and open. Something Antilorwe has never experienced before. Not even a few moments ago, Urganza was willing to lay down her pride and mask her true feelings in front of her.

This was the first time Antilorwe saw Urganza like this. The otherwise rigid as rock Orc was a bundle of chaotic emotions. As Urganza gazed at her with a wounded expression, Antilorwe felt compassion radiating from her chest. This was not how she imagined her conversation with Urganza would end up.

In an attempt to relieve some tension, Antilorwe added, "But I must admit, this was just so..... so unexpected."

The last word fell off her lips before Antilorwe could catch herself.

Urganza frowned, surprised at the comment. She looked up, at the empathetic look in Antilorwe's eyes. Were it not for that concerned affection in her eyes, Urganza would have reacted the only way she knew. Now, a quirk of curiosity arched her eyebrows instead. That's when it struck her, what Antilorwe just said.

Antilorwe could feel a lump form in her throat. It took everything within her not to choke on her next words.

"Even the Overlord is just a dumb brute orc for the likes of the elegant Mage," said Urganza in a soft tone.

In that instant, Antilorwe sensed a longing and yearning inside the orc. At that moment, the gnawing craving in Urganza's heart was bared open for her to see. She could not react. She did not react -- immediately. Rather, she considered the harsh undertone of the Orc's words before replying. The High-elf felt like letting out a loud laugh. This was sheer sarcasm played on a cosmic whim.

Did Urganza not know that she was giving birth to words that mirrored her own feelings?

All Antilorwe planned was for a quick carnal tryst, with writhing of limbs under warm covers. She was ill-prepared for the sudden realization of how quickly Urganza's declaration took root in her heart or for the swiftly forming commiserative bond between them. Caught off-guard, she simply nodded at the unexplainable nameless emotion that welled inside her. Forcing her former belief aside, Antilorwe shrugged lightly, smiling at the heated glare of the poor orc.

Did Urganza sense a kindred spirit?

"How did you know?" stammered Urganza finally breaking the pregnant silence that hung between them.

"I can sense things. Things you don't want me to know," replied Antilorwe quietly.

Urganza's heart thumped hard in her chest. It ached for a different reason than usual. The way Antilorwe spoke. The intonation in her voice. The tenderness in her compassionate expression. All these combined with the looks and actions of Antilorwe created an intoxicating brew of lust and ecstasy in Urganza's mind. An internal arousal, igniting with each breath. Urganza fought the urge to succumb to the visceral desire that was building within her. It was futile in resisting her body's desperate demands.

Urganza blinked her eyes several times and finally, she stared at Antilorwe with wide-open eyes, lost in a sea of uncertainty.

The nervousness of Urganza certainly did not escape Antilorwe -- the fluttering of eyes and trembling of hands.

Urganza inhaled sharply and repeated her question, more forcefully, "How did you know?"

Antilorwe tilted her head to one side, tightening her jaw upwards slightly. An impish smirk curled at her lips. That power in the Orc's voice triggered something in her. She was too aroused to navigate rationally. It was too difficult to hold back unbidden feelings and suppressed sentiments. Cyrene and Urganza are free to roam, spend naked nights, warming each other under a rough quilt, but she is a dignified High-elf, with the demands of her station to hold. With a steeled resolve, she decided to help Urganza, but not before having her own lust fulfilled. And then she would depart for her job.

"I know it in the same way that I sense you having trouble getting the attention of Cyrene," replied Antilorwe coyly with a chuckle, "You need someone to help guide you. Try making her jealous. She will fall for it."

"Jealous?" exclaimed Urganza in disbelief. Deep inside her, the coiled tendril of lust, tugging at her rational, urged her to see the truth in Antilorwe's words. With both a sinking feeling and rush of adrenaline coursing through her veins at the implied suggestion, Urganza shook her head negatively.

What was Antilorwe suggesting? What did she mean by "Jealous"?

As Antilorwe's whispered suggestion seeped into Urganza's ears and with realisation, once again, an intense burning passion coursed throughout her entire body. She rolled her neck, making sure to get a good glimpse at the stunningly tall feminine form of Antilorwe towering over her. A pleasant smile guarded under the parasol.

She wanted to protest, to deny what the elf implicated, but instead, she acquiesced. If Antilorwe meant it that way, then so be it.

With a grace impossible to not admire, Urganza raised her hand to capture Antilorwe's offered hands, to lift herself from the pool. There was a snap to her firm grip, reverberating like a bowstring snapping, but echoing like a crack of thunder. Each of her fingers containing a distinct hardness from its callous nature. Antilorwe held them loosely in her hand. Urged, the High-elf moved closer to Urganza, while using her other hand to entice Urganza into a heated embrace. The embrace culminated with both orc and High-elf canoodling each other tightly. Their lips touched gently, pressing their mouths together in an equally passionate kiss. For an unenduringly tender moment, their bodies flush together, in the shared comfort of their sweltering fervent kiss.

Both Antilorwe and Urganza broke away from their dallying -- apart from wanting a little more intimate touch from the other. Antilorwe felt her cheeks flushed red with heat but invigorated with energy upon looking at the Orc.

Urganza's eyes blazed with renewed ardour, made stronger by Antilorwe's own hot ardent gaze. With her self-resolve shattered in a narrow fleeting touch of the High-elf, Urganza waged an uphill battle to compose herself.

"Good Luck. You will find it most rewarding if you make her jealous. Let your mouth decide who gets to taste her juices next," said Antilorwe flirtatiously, turning away, smiling knowingly at the horrified look on Urganza's face.

Before either party could respond, Antilorwe sped away, headed towards the comfort of her manor. Urganza threw a cursory glance back at Antilorwe's silhouette, with a pleading look in her eye. No words were needed, the invitation was evident in the final lascivious look that Antilorwe cast in Urganza's direction. And then she fled from Urganza's sight, leaving a trail of succulent temptation behind her path. With a deep sigh, Urganza gathered her clothes and followed.

 

---

---