The Heartwood [m]insatiable

the smell of sex is nothing new to her—it is the germ of life, after all. it rises up, heady and thick, within the forest, and her own stomach tightens in response to the musky aroma. she means to walk on by when a shadow-turned-form catches her eye and—

she stands, gaze fixed upon the supposed hedonist.

i hope i am not interrupting you, tziporah casts out, her voice quiet but firm in the space between them. it's a magnificent creature that she addresses, lithe and dark and strong;

and awash in the lustful scent of others.