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a little too tall for this to work otherwise.”
    It was amusing that they did as she ordered. She didn’t think about it, she just walked up to the first man, put her hand behind his head and pulled him down to her for a kiss.
    Images spun in her mind of a laughing woman with a small child. The woman had blue skin and the baby had black eyes.
    She released him and slowly shook her head.
    The next man preferred men.
    The next had two mistresses and no children.
    She was surprised by the fourth. He had an image of her standing behind the golden throne with him sitting on it. That wouldn’t do at all.
    She desperately kissed the fifth and found the sight of a woman with red eyes and golden hair.
    Steeling herself, she faced the man that she had bumped into, the pilot of the skimmer. “Last chance.” She muttered it.
    He was smiling as she kissed him, and the image in his mind was definitely not of another woman.
    Myra had never seen herself tied to a bedpost with shadowed hands running across glowing-bright skin, but it was definitely an image in his mind.
    She tried to back away, but he snapped his arms around her, crushing her to the breastplate as his tongue teased her lips.
    She moaned and welcomed him, tasting him as he did her. He lifted her against him, and the kiss grew wilder.
    Her body was rioting. She wanted his armour off, wanted to see his face and wanted to wake up from her very weird dream and find herself back on Terra. It was a world of want, but it focused on wanting him.
    “Gentlemen, the High Lady of the Day clan has made her decision. Please leave and I will seal the building. The couple requires privacy.”
    Sek-Rah chuckled. “Her chamber is up the third staircase, down the hall, room with the double doors.”
    Myra wrapped her legs around his waist as her chosen consort began to walk. The breastplate frustrated her. She had never been one to throw herself at a guy, but the longer she kissed him, the more heated images of her limbs tangled with his flared and flickered in her thoughts.
    It was like silent dirty talk that didn’t end because one partner got embarrassed; it just went on and on. Psychological foreplay at its best.
    When he mounted the stairs, she came close to passing out. The rubbing of his armour against her clit was tantalising, but she wanted to feel skin beneath her palms as well as everywhere else. It was a torture of monumental proportions as he moved up the steps with fluid grace.
    He broke the kiss, and his breathing was ragged when they reached the upper floor. Myra shrugged and moved her attention to his neck, feeling his pulse thunder under her tongue and the sweet-salty tang of sweat on his skin.
    She stopped the part of her that hesitated and continued to nuzzle at his skin, listening to his thundering heartbeat and revelling in it.
    When he slammed through the doors, she closed her eyes as the sunlight blazed in through the windows.
    He placed his hands on her arms and pried her off him. “Lady, the clothing needs to come off.”
    She reluctantly unhitched her legs and slid down his body. She stepped back and untied her sash, letting it drop to the floor.
    Her partner removed his cloak, and with quick movements, his armour fell on the floor.
    She sat on the edge of the bed and pulled off her boots before opening the closure of her tight trousers and working them down her thighs. She stood again and tried to watch as her consort stripped, but the fabric clung to her faithfully, and she had to tug it free. By the time she was done removing her pants, he was wearing nothing but the mask.
    With quick motions, she untied the closure of her bustier and let it fall to the ground. The only thing she was wearing was the hairpins.
    His skin was the same deep mahogany all over, his muscles rippled in waves across his abdomen and there was little to no body fat in evidence on his form.
    The penis jutting toward her was familiar in size, though a little wider than the average