Mistress Jorja
The 8th Deadly Sin
- Joined
- Sep 5, 2001
- Posts
- 1,216
Queen of Hearts
The reflection of the sunlight on the water of the great pool danced on the ceiling, playing across the large mural. It colors were vivacious, the royal blues and aquamarines of the Aegean, the piercing gold of the Mediterranean sun, white perfectly proportioned houses standing stark against their luxurious backdrop.
Softly carved stone hot-tubs are nestled in the floor, steam curling up and away from them. The vapor was lightly scented and from across the room a tinge of the flowery perfumes set the mood. Pastel pillows of an exotic silken fabric were tossed on the
dark colored floor. You could almost imagine the patricians in their starched togas resting there after a hot bath, with wide-eyed, olive-skinned damsels hand feeding them grapes and kumquats.
The terra-cotta shelves lining the walls held perfumed oils and bath salts in delicate porcelain canisters. Labeled in a flowing script she glimpsed Amaretto and Apricot Blossom...Gardenia and Frankincense...Hibiscus and Jasmine...Plumeria and Sea Aloe...a myriad of scents and colors.
Rose petals were strewn everywhere in the room, from the base of the gurgling fountains to the patiently tiled murals of entwined lovers.
"My, my, Mr. Hacker, you certainly have a flair for the intimate..."
The reflection of the sunlight on the water of the great pool danced on the ceiling, playing across the large mural. It colors were vivacious, the royal blues and aquamarines of the Aegean, the piercing gold of the Mediterranean sun, white perfectly proportioned houses standing stark against their luxurious backdrop.
Softly carved stone hot-tubs are nestled in the floor, steam curling up and away from them. The vapor was lightly scented and from across the room a tinge of the flowery perfumes set the mood. Pastel pillows of an exotic silken fabric were tossed on the
dark colored floor. You could almost imagine the patricians in their starched togas resting there after a hot bath, with wide-eyed, olive-skinned damsels hand feeding them grapes and kumquats.
The terra-cotta shelves lining the walls held perfumed oils and bath salts in delicate porcelain canisters. Labeled in a flowing script she glimpsed Amaretto and Apricot Blossom...Gardenia and Frankincense...Hibiscus and Jasmine...Plumeria and Sea Aloe...a myriad of scents and colors.
Rose petals were strewn everywhere in the room, from the base of the gurgling fountains to the patiently tiled murals of entwined lovers.
"My, my, Mr. Hacker, you certainly have a flair for the intimate..."