Lion Head Mesa spear & sickle

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He wished to see her chambers, and then a bath.
Come with me, she is simple in her direction, a heady draw of breath as she turns past him and lures him into her room. It is neat and well decorated, an assortment of effeminate decor that spoke of an inner child not yet lost to the sands of time. She was a daughter, once.
Once they are within reach of her bedfurs, her throat bobs as she swallows. Nerves bite at her heels, and her heart squeezes. You must answer.
Her back is pressed to the hardened wall, legs parted, spine arched. Her best coy smile is given, muzzle held close to her chest; and with a long limb outstretched, she reels him closer. Is this what you want?