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She raised a brow, and belatedly threw a look over her shoulder, only to realize that indeed, the guards had yet to return to fetch her. Was there a time slot their master had given Demi to him for? Momentarily, the woman couldn't help but wonder how long that was, but bit her lip and turned back with what she hoped was a look of indifference. "Nowhere, it seems. My mistake." she murmured in reply. Shuffling forward when he motioned for her to do so, Demi did her best to hide a wince when the same fingers brushed the bruises he had caused, fighting the want to cringe away from a touch that caused pain.
"I guess. But we usually have more space upon a bed to do so." She did not lie. Some of her clients particularly enjoyed cuddling after they had finished off, and it usually led to a second or third round of more coitus, of which Demi had never denied. Who was she to deny afterall, when she was the one providing the service? As long as the coin ended up in her pocket at the end of the week, Demi was contracted to do whatever her client wanted.
Still however, something could be said about ambience, and it was infinitely more enticing to remain and allow one's body to be fondled and touched should it be at least a proper room, instead of what almost felt like a dungeon at this point. Not her place to deny however.
So the woman simply remained statuesque as he did what he wanted, brushing her brunette locks whilst her skin tingled where his fingers touched.
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Jan 12, 2020 11:11:56 GMT
Posted In You earned it on Jan 12, 2020 11:11:56 GMT
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She raised a brow, and belatedly threw a look over her shoulder, only to realize that indeed, the guards had yet to return to fetch her. Was there a time slot their master had given Demi to him for? Momentarily, the woman couldn't help but wonder how long that was, but bit her lip and turned back with what she hoped was a look of indifference. "Nowhere, it seems. My mistake." she murmured in reply. Shuffling forward when he motioned for her to do so, Demi did her best to hide a wince when the same fingers brushed the bruises he had caused, fighting the want to cringe away from a touch that caused pain.
"I guess. But we usually have more space upon a bed to do so." She did not lie. Some of her clients particularly enjoyed cuddling after they had finished off, and it usually led to a second or third round of more coitus, of which Demi had never denied. Who was she to deny afterall, when she was the one providing the service? As long as the coin ended up in her pocket at the end of the week, Demi was contracted to do whatever her client wanted.
Still however, something could be said about ambience, and it was infinitely more enticing to remain and allow one's body to be fondled and touched should it be at least a proper room, instead of what almost felt like a dungeon at this point. Not her place to deny however.
So the woman simply remained statuesque as he did what he wanted, brushing her brunette locks whilst her skin tingled where his fingers touched.
She raised a brow, and belatedly threw a look over her shoulder, only to realize that indeed, the guards had yet to return to fetch her. Was there a time slot their master had given Demi to him for? Momentarily, the woman couldn't help but wonder how long that was, but bit her lip and turned back with what she hoped was a look of indifference. "Nowhere, it seems. My mistake." she murmured in reply. Shuffling forward when he motioned for her to do so, Demi did her best to hide a wince when the same fingers brushed the bruises he had caused, fighting the want to cringe away from a touch that caused pain.
"I guess. But we usually have more space upon a bed to do so." She did not lie. Some of her clients particularly enjoyed cuddling after they had finished off, and it usually led to a second or third round of more coitus, of which Demi had never denied. Who was she to deny afterall, when she was the one providing the service? As long as the coin ended up in her pocket at the end of the week, Demi was contracted to do whatever her client wanted.
Still however, something could be said about ambience, and it was infinitely more enticing to remain and allow one's body to be fondled and touched should it be at least a proper room, instead of what almost felt like a dungeon at this point. Not her place to deny however.
So the woman simply remained statuesque as he did what he wanted, brushing her brunette locks whilst her skin tingled where his fingers touched.
The gladiator smirked at her, the expression in his dark eyes a mellower version of the intense look he'd worn while hitting her. Attraction, and absent-minded sort of lust... or something. Certainly not dissimilar to the expression of a man who was looking forward to a cuddle and a second round.
"I suppose," he echoed, to her comment about most beds being larger than his. His hand drifted down to cup the curve of her ass, his smile genuine and oddly innocent as he pinched her hard right at the very top of her thigh with a cruel little twist, then spanked her once on the same spot. From the cheerful glint in his eyes, you might think he'd just tickled her. "I take it you're generally not thrown to us, then. I suppose I shouldn't be surprised a slave doesn't merit a cuddle, even from another slave." His tone was lightly teasing.
He watched her face with dark eyes, wondering what she was thinking. His tastes did not run the same as most other men's, but still, he hadn't injured her. Even if her primary duties were not as a pleasure-slave, she'd certainly spoken as if it was common enough in her life, and she'd clearly been rough-handled enough in the past not to object or flinch from it. Was she offended at being used by someone who did not outrank her? Someone who had been a slave for long would not hold such notions, but Lesley certainly knew how hard it was to let go of the habit of doing what you wanted.
"How long have you been a slave, Demi?" The question was thoughtful, curious. It sounded kind. It was intended to be kind; Lesley himself didn't see the disconnect inherent in caring about people even while he hurt them, and so didn't think to apologize for it or even explain his feelings.
He shifted his weight and hissed in sudden pain, then spent a moment settling himself to where he was comfortable again. "Ow. Well-earned, at least." He grinned, a quick flash of the arena predator, just as suddenly gone again. "I'm gonna guess... not quite as long as me. Mmm, four years. Yeah?" Not her whole life, she'd said, but nothing further - it was a random guess, really.
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The gladiator smirked at her, the expression in his dark eyes a mellower version of the intense look he'd worn while hitting her. Attraction, and absent-minded sort of lust... or something. Certainly not dissimilar to the expression of a man who was looking forward to a cuddle and a second round.
"I suppose," he echoed, to her comment about most beds being larger than his. His hand drifted down to cup the curve of her ass, his smile genuine and oddly innocent as he pinched her hard right at the very top of her thigh with a cruel little twist, then spanked her once on the same spot. From the cheerful glint in his eyes, you might think he'd just tickled her. "I take it you're generally not thrown to us, then. I suppose I shouldn't be surprised a slave doesn't merit a cuddle, even from another slave." His tone was lightly teasing.
He watched her face with dark eyes, wondering what she was thinking. His tastes did not run the same as most other men's, but still, he hadn't injured her. Even if her primary duties were not as a pleasure-slave, she'd certainly spoken as if it was common enough in her life, and she'd clearly been rough-handled enough in the past not to object or flinch from it. Was she offended at being used by someone who did not outrank her? Someone who had been a slave for long would not hold such notions, but Lesley certainly knew how hard it was to let go of the habit of doing what you wanted.
"How long have you been a slave, Demi?" The question was thoughtful, curious. It sounded kind. It was intended to be kind; Lesley himself didn't see the disconnect inherent in caring about people even while he hurt them, and so didn't think to apologize for it or even explain his feelings.
He shifted his weight and hissed in sudden pain, then spent a moment settling himself to where he was comfortable again. "Ow. Well-earned, at least." He grinned, a quick flash of the arena predator, just as suddenly gone again. "I'm gonna guess... not quite as long as me. Mmm, four years. Yeah?" Not her whole life, she'd said, but nothing further - it was a random guess, really.
The gladiator smirked at her, the expression in his dark eyes a mellower version of the intense look he'd worn while hitting her. Attraction, and absent-minded sort of lust... or something. Certainly not dissimilar to the expression of a man who was looking forward to a cuddle and a second round.
"I suppose," he echoed, to her comment about most beds being larger than his. His hand drifted down to cup the curve of her ass, his smile genuine and oddly innocent as he pinched her hard right at the very top of her thigh with a cruel little twist, then spanked her once on the same spot. From the cheerful glint in his eyes, you might think he'd just tickled her. "I take it you're generally not thrown to us, then. I suppose I shouldn't be surprised a slave doesn't merit a cuddle, even from another slave." His tone was lightly teasing.
He watched her face with dark eyes, wondering what she was thinking. His tastes did not run the same as most other men's, but still, he hadn't injured her. Even if her primary duties were not as a pleasure-slave, she'd certainly spoken as if it was common enough in her life, and she'd clearly been rough-handled enough in the past not to object or flinch from it. Was she offended at being used by someone who did not outrank her? Someone who had been a slave for long would not hold such notions, but Lesley certainly knew how hard it was to let go of the habit of doing what you wanted.
"How long have you been a slave, Demi?" The question was thoughtful, curious. It sounded kind. It was intended to be kind; Lesley himself didn't see the disconnect inherent in caring about people even while he hurt them, and so didn't think to apologize for it or even explain his feelings.
He shifted his weight and hissed in sudden pain, then spent a moment settling himself to where he was comfortable again. "Ow. Well-earned, at least." He grinned, a quick flash of the arena predator, just as suddenly gone again. "I'm gonna guess... not quite as long as me. Mmm, four years. Yeah?" Not her whole life, she'd said, but nothing further - it was a random guess, really.
She remained still even as his hands roamed - an art Demi had perfected quite well after the many years spent having to still herself as people did what they wanted with her body. Of course, she still flinched when it brushed a particularly tender spot, or when Lesley pinched or tweaked at the sensitive skin, but otherwise she could pass for a statue with how still she was. That he had not drawn blood was already a surprise for Demi, for the brunette has heard of how certain men had their favor of blood and pain before coming to completion. The woman guessed she still had little blessings to count.
His question threw her off guard. Was it of importance to him? It was an odd question to ask, but neither was it Demi's place to question him anyway. "Four years with our master, two years prior to that." Six years may seem like a long time, but the woman could still remember the first day she had started in the brothel like it was yesterday. It was a good thing Idylla had been quick to take her under her wing, or she would've long been exploited. Instead, her friend had taught her the tricks of the trade, which further enhanced the experienced she was able to give her clients. Hesitance grew in Demi's chest at how kind the tone sounded. Did he hide something?
The quick hiss of pain had Demi's eyes shooting to Lesley briefly, the first in awhile. While he had technically only inflicted pain upon her for the last hour or so, Demi was naturally someone who did not wish pain on anyone, so seeing him hurt was an anomaly for the woman, who could not help but knit her brows in curiosity when she saw it. "Are you injured from a round in the arcus?" she asked, if only to satisfy her own curiosity.
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Jan 29, 2020 14:39:45 GMT
Posted In You earned it on Jan 29, 2020 14:39:45 GMT
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She remained still even as his hands roamed - an art Demi had perfected quite well after the many years spent having to still herself as people did what they wanted with her body. Of course, she still flinched when it brushed a particularly tender spot, or when Lesley pinched or tweaked at the sensitive skin, but otherwise she could pass for a statue with how still she was. That he had not drawn blood was already a surprise for Demi, for the brunette has heard of how certain men had their favor of blood and pain before coming to completion. The woman guessed she still had little blessings to count.
His question threw her off guard. Was it of importance to him? It was an odd question to ask, but neither was it Demi's place to question him anyway. "Four years with our master, two years prior to that." Six years may seem like a long time, but the woman could still remember the first day she had started in the brothel like it was yesterday. It was a good thing Idylla had been quick to take her under her wing, or she would've long been exploited. Instead, her friend had taught her the tricks of the trade, which further enhanced the experienced she was able to give her clients. Hesitance grew in Demi's chest at how kind the tone sounded. Did he hide something?
The quick hiss of pain had Demi's eyes shooting to Lesley briefly, the first in awhile. While he had technically only inflicted pain upon her for the last hour or so, Demi was naturally someone who did not wish pain on anyone, so seeing him hurt was an anomaly for the woman, who could not help but knit her brows in curiosity when she saw it. "Are you injured from a round in the arcus?" she asked, if only to satisfy her own curiosity.
She remained still even as his hands roamed - an art Demi had perfected quite well after the many years spent having to still herself as people did what they wanted with her body. Of course, she still flinched when it brushed a particularly tender spot, or when Lesley pinched or tweaked at the sensitive skin, but otherwise she could pass for a statue with how still she was. That he had not drawn blood was already a surprise for Demi, for the brunette has heard of how certain men had their favor of blood and pain before coming to completion. The woman guessed she still had little blessings to count.
His question threw her off guard. Was it of importance to him? It was an odd question to ask, but neither was it Demi's place to question him anyway. "Four years with our master, two years prior to that." Six years may seem like a long time, but the woman could still remember the first day she had started in the brothel like it was yesterday. It was a good thing Idylla had been quick to take her under her wing, or she would've long been exploited. Instead, her friend had taught her the tricks of the trade, which further enhanced the experienced she was able to give her clients. Hesitance grew in Demi's chest at how kind the tone sounded. Did he hide something?
The quick hiss of pain had Demi's eyes shooting to Lesley briefly, the first in awhile. While he had technically only inflicted pain upon her for the last hour or so, Demi was naturally someone who did not wish pain on anyone, so seeing him hurt was an anomaly for the woman, who could not help but knit her brows in curiosity when she saw it. "Are you injured from a round in the arcus?" she asked, if only to satisfy her own curiosity.
The gladiator chuckled dryly at Demi's question. "Umm, let me see... Well, I'm not dead. So that's a 'yes'." He flashed her a quick grin. "For some reason, nobody just lets me kill them without hitting back a bunch." He didn't sound concerned, though he didn't manage his usual blase amusement, either. "Seems fair enough. Eventually... hmph." Eventually it would be him, bleeding out his life's blood on the sands while someone else limped back to a wine skin and a memory-filled night. At least, he hoped so. Somehow, the idea he'd be killed by a relative stranger seemed worse.
"Vasilis was a gladiator for ten years," Lesley told his whore quietly. "Eleven? Not sure. He was a free man, couldn't get work anywhere else. Too tough, pushy. You had to hit him to get him to realize when he was being unreasonable. Not hard, usually, but just to get him to pay attention." He didn't really expect Demi to care, but saying it out loud made it real. Memories were important. "His kids always came to watch when he fought. Three of 'em, two boys and a girl. The boys always cheered him on. His daughter always cheered his opponent, unless it was Akakios. Vasilis was saving up for a dowry for her. Always saying she deserved a rich husband."
He half-closed his eyes, humming thoughtfully. "He always complained about the food here. Said a vegetarian diet was healthier. Still ate it though. Pretty sure he was just full of shit. I'll miss training with him. He was always fun to beat up." The opportunity to properly break him, though... ah, that was something else. Entirely worth both tonight's pain and the loss of an amusingly volatile target to harass regularly. Lesley's contented hum was practically a purr.
"Could definitely use some strong wine tonight. Cheapskates." He snorted, annoyed. "A proper victory ought to be celebrated. Not to mention it helps me sleep when I'm all hacked up to bits. Only thing worse than training when hurt is training when hurt and half asleep on your feet."
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The gladiator chuckled dryly at Demi's question. "Umm, let me see... Well, I'm not dead. So that's a 'yes'." He flashed her a quick grin. "For some reason, nobody just lets me kill them without hitting back a bunch." He didn't sound concerned, though he didn't manage his usual blase amusement, either. "Seems fair enough. Eventually... hmph." Eventually it would be him, bleeding out his life's blood on the sands while someone else limped back to a wine skin and a memory-filled night. At least, he hoped so. Somehow, the idea he'd be killed by a relative stranger seemed worse.
"Vasilis was a gladiator for ten years," Lesley told his whore quietly. "Eleven? Not sure. He was a free man, couldn't get work anywhere else. Too tough, pushy. You had to hit him to get him to realize when he was being unreasonable. Not hard, usually, but just to get him to pay attention." He didn't really expect Demi to care, but saying it out loud made it real. Memories were important. "His kids always came to watch when he fought. Three of 'em, two boys and a girl. The boys always cheered him on. His daughter always cheered his opponent, unless it was Akakios. Vasilis was saving up for a dowry for her. Always saying she deserved a rich husband."
He half-closed his eyes, humming thoughtfully. "He always complained about the food here. Said a vegetarian diet was healthier. Still ate it though. Pretty sure he was just full of shit. I'll miss training with him. He was always fun to beat up." The opportunity to properly break him, though... ah, that was something else. Entirely worth both tonight's pain and the loss of an amusingly volatile target to harass regularly. Lesley's contented hum was practically a purr.
"Could definitely use some strong wine tonight. Cheapskates." He snorted, annoyed. "A proper victory ought to be celebrated. Not to mention it helps me sleep when I'm all hacked up to bits. Only thing worse than training when hurt is training when hurt and half asleep on your feet."
The gladiator chuckled dryly at Demi's question. "Umm, let me see... Well, I'm not dead. So that's a 'yes'." He flashed her a quick grin. "For some reason, nobody just lets me kill them without hitting back a bunch." He didn't sound concerned, though he didn't manage his usual blase amusement, either. "Seems fair enough. Eventually... hmph." Eventually it would be him, bleeding out his life's blood on the sands while someone else limped back to a wine skin and a memory-filled night. At least, he hoped so. Somehow, the idea he'd be killed by a relative stranger seemed worse.
"Vasilis was a gladiator for ten years," Lesley told his whore quietly. "Eleven? Not sure. He was a free man, couldn't get work anywhere else. Too tough, pushy. You had to hit him to get him to realize when he was being unreasonable. Not hard, usually, but just to get him to pay attention." He didn't really expect Demi to care, but saying it out loud made it real. Memories were important. "His kids always came to watch when he fought. Three of 'em, two boys and a girl. The boys always cheered him on. His daughter always cheered his opponent, unless it was Akakios. Vasilis was saving up for a dowry for her. Always saying she deserved a rich husband."
He half-closed his eyes, humming thoughtfully. "He always complained about the food here. Said a vegetarian diet was healthier. Still ate it though. Pretty sure he was just full of shit. I'll miss training with him. He was always fun to beat up." The opportunity to properly break him, though... ah, that was something else. Entirely worth both tonight's pain and the loss of an amusingly volatile target to harass regularly. Lesley's contented hum was practically a purr.
"Could definitely use some strong wine tonight. Cheapskates." He snorted, annoyed. "A proper victory ought to be celebrated. Not to mention it helps me sleep when I'm all hacked up to bits. Only thing worse than training when hurt is training when hurt and half asleep on your feet."
She barely smiled at his chuckle - Demi was all business. She knew what she had came for, and she had done her service. For all intents and purposes, Demi wanted to leave and get on with her day, but it would do her no good should the gladiator she was sent to service submitted a complaint, yet neither did she wish to be where she was, so the brunette merely schooled her features to be as impassive as they could be whilst he spoke and prattled on about himself - a trait in a men she could not stand, but the woman was a mistress of acting.
Barely listening to his words, she ran through her tasks for the rest of the day, which also included gaining a new wardrobe for her master had got the new seamstress in town to visit and outfit all his body slave's. Demi would be delighted to get a new dress to replace an older, more well-worn one, and decided she'd go for a material of the orange or dark yellow variety, her head cooking up the design for it. Not too revealing, yet something whic hwould entice her master's fancy, of course.
When the voice of the gladiator eventually trailed off, Demi blinked as if realizing it was supposed to be her turn to respond, yet belatedly realizing she had not listened to much. Her mind could faintly recall words like 'training', 'wine' and 'victory', but could not make a coherent sentence, so instead the woman gave a hesitant raise of her brow, before suggesting in what she hoped was a neutral tone, "Perhaps you should get some sleep then. It may help you when you go for this training you speak of." It was a non-comittal way in which she spoke, a sign that obviously she wished to be anywhere but where she was.
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She barely smiled at his chuckle - Demi was all business. She knew what she had came for, and she had done her service. For all intents and purposes, Demi wanted to leave and get on with her day, but it would do her no good should the gladiator she was sent to service submitted a complaint, yet neither did she wish to be where she was, so the brunette merely schooled her features to be as impassive as they could be whilst he spoke and prattled on about himself - a trait in a men she could not stand, but the woman was a mistress of acting.
Barely listening to his words, she ran through her tasks for the rest of the day, which also included gaining a new wardrobe for her master had got the new seamstress in town to visit and outfit all his body slave's. Demi would be delighted to get a new dress to replace an older, more well-worn one, and decided she'd go for a material of the orange or dark yellow variety, her head cooking up the design for it. Not too revealing, yet something whic hwould entice her master's fancy, of course.
When the voice of the gladiator eventually trailed off, Demi blinked as if realizing it was supposed to be her turn to respond, yet belatedly realizing she had not listened to much. Her mind could faintly recall words like 'training', 'wine' and 'victory', but could not make a coherent sentence, so instead the woman gave a hesitant raise of her brow, before suggesting in what she hoped was a neutral tone, "Perhaps you should get some sleep then. It may help you when you go for this training you speak of." It was a non-comittal way in which she spoke, a sign that obviously she wished to be anywhere but where she was.
She barely smiled at his chuckle - Demi was all business. She knew what she had came for, and she had done her service. For all intents and purposes, Demi wanted to leave and get on with her day, but it would do her no good should the gladiator she was sent to service submitted a complaint, yet neither did she wish to be where she was, so the brunette merely schooled her features to be as impassive as they could be whilst he spoke and prattled on about himself - a trait in a men she could not stand, but the woman was a mistress of acting.
Barely listening to his words, she ran through her tasks for the rest of the day, which also included gaining a new wardrobe for her master had got the new seamstress in town to visit and outfit all his body slave's. Demi would be delighted to get a new dress to replace an older, more well-worn one, and decided she'd go for a material of the orange or dark yellow variety, her head cooking up the design for it. Not too revealing, yet something whic hwould entice her master's fancy, of course.
When the voice of the gladiator eventually trailed off, Demi blinked as if realizing it was supposed to be her turn to respond, yet belatedly realizing she had not listened to much. Her mind could faintly recall words like 'training', 'wine' and 'victory', but could not make a coherent sentence, so instead the woman gave a hesitant raise of her brow, before suggesting in what she hoped was a neutral tone, "Perhaps you should get some sleep then. It may help you when you go for this training you speak of." It was a non-comittal way in which she spoke, a sign that obviously she wished to be anywhere but where she was.
"Maybe I should." She was done even pretending to like him, clearly. He would have appreciated some more flattery, but lacking that, he didn't have much more use for her. He definitely hurt too much to care for a round two.
Reaching between his mattress and the wall, he fumbled about a moment until his fingers wrapped around one of his small collection of rocks. The guards didn't care what he picked up to fidget with as long as it wasn't big enough to brain a man with. Pitching the rock with uncanny aim, in bounced off the bars of the cell with a clang as he'd intended - it wouldn't do to have the rock fly out and potentially hit someone just coming into sight. Certainly not when he was already beat up.
When you spent a lot of time bored, you got good at stupid things.
"Yo 'dronicus. 'm done with the girl, whoever's next can have a go." He had no idea whether anyone at all was next - he suspected not, from her attitude, but you never knew. He could tell she expected not, and he lay back down, watching her as he let his eyes drift mostly shut.
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"Maybe I should." She was done even pretending to like him, clearly. He would have appreciated some more flattery, but lacking that, he didn't have much more use for her. He definitely hurt too much to care for a round two.
Reaching between his mattress and the wall, he fumbled about a moment until his fingers wrapped around one of his small collection of rocks. The guards didn't care what he picked up to fidget with as long as it wasn't big enough to brain a man with. Pitching the rock with uncanny aim, in bounced off the bars of the cell with a clang as he'd intended - it wouldn't do to have the rock fly out and potentially hit someone just coming into sight. Certainly not when he was already beat up.
When you spent a lot of time bored, you got good at stupid things.
"Yo 'dronicus. 'm done with the girl, whoever's next can have a go." He had no idea whether anyone at all was next - he suspected not, from her attitude, but you never knew. He could tell she expected not, and he lay back down, watching her as he let his eyes drift mostly shut.
"Maybe I should." She was done even pretending to like him, clearly. He would have appreciated some more flattery, but lacking that, he didn't have much more use for her. He definitely hurt too much to care for a round two.
Reaching between his mattress and the wall, he fumbled about a moment until his fingers wrapped around one of his small collection of rocks. The guards didn't care what he picked up to fidget with as long as it wasn't big enough to brain a man with. Pitching the rock with uncanny aim, in bounced off the bars of the cell with a clang as he'd intended - it wouldn't do to have the rock fly out and potentially hit someone just coming into sight. Certainly not when he was already beat up.
When you spent a lot of time bored, you got good at stupid things.
"Yo 'dronicus. 'm done with the girl, whoever's next can have a go." He had no idea whether anyone at all was next - he suspected not, from her attitude, but you never knew. He could tell she expected not, and he lay back down, watching her as he let his eyes drift mostly shut.