Lion Head Mesa serekh

conversation was one of the marks for a good courtesan. but ramesses saw none of that in nazli now, only a girlish downturn with a soft voice.
it was his divine right to touch her now, but he did not, only gazed at the gentle contours of her body in the half-light.
she spoke and he heard doubt. trepidation. it occurred to ramesses that for all her noble training she was not ready.
"you have the beauty of a budding lotus," he told her, all rife with smiles and priests'-poems. "in this space, your pleasure as well as mine is held sacred." a fellahin did not leave his bedchamber without having experienced much sensation of their own.
it was his way to give back, somehow, to work beyond indulgence for a true and magnificent connection.
the lapis eyes then filled with tiredness. he beckoned nazli closer to him, to lie softly near. "tell me your desires," ramesses said gently, a soft arm about her now.