The sun was dipping low, painting the study in soft golds and pinks. André and Vivienne were still naked, as if clothes had become some forbidden punishment neither wanted to endure. Vivienne perched on his table, knees pulled close, arms crossed defensively, while André remained seated in his chair, hands tracing her thighs in slow, maddening motions.
Vivienne's mind was screaming. I am tired. Are we just going to sit here naked forever? Even the shelves are judging me. All these books, all these dusty papers—they know what's happening and they're silently laughing at me. I am a fool. A literal, naked fool on a table in the afternoon sun. Gods, kill me now. Burn me. Strike me with lightning. Or better, let the table collapse beneath me and crush me. Anything but this.
She tried to keep her composure, her voice smooth, fake sweetness lacing every word. "My lord," she said, voice trembling just a little. "It is sunset already. Should we not… get dressed?"
