Feeling her lover's warm, fragrant breath brush against her earlobe, Lyra unconsciously traced circles along the hem of her skirt. Her fair, smooth legs in white stockings instinctively pressed together, trapping Astrid's silky, rounded knee between them.
"All right. I'll find time to offer Miss Monica a few suggestions."
Whether as lovers now so intimate that they no longer needed to avoid each other while changing clothes each morning, or from her former experience as a maid who knew her mistress's taste in clothing inside and out, Lyra was fully confident she could handle the task.
Still, Astrid's sudden suggestion did not seem to stem solely from necessity. It felt more like she was taking Lyra's feelings into consideration.
"Astrid, do I seem... petty?" Having displayed a rare flash of insight, the pink-haired girl holding her lover asked softly.
