"Dania," I said, "I am Philip, one of the tests your sisters have set to see if you have the skills of a mistress O-wright."
"Welcome, Philip," she replied. "I am pleased to serve you." The members of the Guild always say that they are pleased, but Dania looked as though she meant it. I've had apprentices who did not really seem very pleased, but -- of course -- Dania was already an experienced journey-woman. Her fellow members considered that she might well become a mistress.
She had the physical requirements. Well past the briefly-flowering beauty that comes to many women with youth, she had a beauty which I would expect to last. Jet black hair fell straight to her waist. Brows and lashes matched the color and abundance. Her eyes were brown and expressive, her nose straight, her mouth generous. Her breasts were high, her hips broad. Her torso between these attractions slender enough to set them off. Her legs were long so were her arms. She moved with the grace of a trained dancer. Her alto voice had a breathy tone and a neutral accent.
She took my coat and hung it up before coming into my arms for a kiss. Her mouth tasted sweet, and her tongue played with mine. Her thigh pressed between mine. Probably that gave her a clue about my problem. Drawing back a bit without quite breaking the kiss, she began to open my shirt. When I was as bare on top as I could get in that embrace, she led me into the area by the bed. It was served by radiant heat, and my bare skin felt warm. She removed my shirt and undershirt and hung them on a convenient clothes rack.
She kissed me again before leaving my mouth to explore my throat and chest. She licked at each nipple on her way down. Soon, she was kneeling at my feet and loosening my belt and trousers. While her hands were on my clothes, her mouth didn't leave my body. I wriggled when her tongue invaded my navel.
"Step, if it pleases you." These were her first words since the welcome. I stepped out of my trousers. She kissed up each thigh from the knee before picking up the trousers and hanging them on the clothes rack "Would you like to sit there?" I took the indicated chair by the bed. She backed out to the area by the door ( which was much more brightly lit). She began to unbutton her blouse. It was old-fashioned with many small buttons down the front. Soft music arose, coming from several concealed speakers. She moved in time to that music, not quite dancing, as she disrobed.
"This," she began, "is what you get. This face is yours; this mouth is yours. This back is yours." As she removed her blouse, she turned to show her back bare except for the coverage of her bra strap. It was a lovely, supple, back; and it swayed to the music for a moment or two. Then she opened the bra clasps.
"These breasts are yours." She slowly turned, stopping with her right side towards me. Her arm hid her breast at first. Then, as she swayed and gestured in time to the music, parts of it were revealed. First I saw the beginning as her arm covered her nipple; then, I saw the tip peering out beyond her arm which concealed the rest. As the music reached a rapid passage, she turned around two-and-a-half times. I saw both breasts in two brief glimpses Then her left side was towards me, and her left breast was nearly concealed by her arm.
Once, such a tease would have left me stiff as a post. Now, with my problem, there was barely a stir between my legs. Desire, though, is also mental. My mind wanted to see those breasts clearly, wanted those breasts, wanted Dania.
Clearly dancing to the music now, she twirled back and forth. She faced away from me when she stopped, but I caught glimpses of her breasts in every turn. The turns were bringing her closer to me. Finally, she circled twice before coming to an abrupt halt facing me from inches away. I got a clear look at her breasts. They began high on her torso, but they sagged a few centimeters. They were neither extraordinarily large nor youthfully firm. Had she stripped immediately, I would have been unimpressed. The tease, though, had left me wanting these breasts. I took one in each hand.
"They are yours," Dania said, "yours to hold, yours to kiss." I took those permissions in order. First I held them, feeling the coolness of her skin; I lifted them to feel their weight, stroked my thumbs across the nipples to judge their response. They stiffened from even that contact, although Dania may have found her own spinning dance arousing. Then, I tasted them. I kissed the smoothness of the sides: finally I sucked on the nipples. While I did so, Dania held my face between her hands. She swayed slightly back and forth in time to the music.
When I looked up from her breasts, Dania kissed me on the cheek and then spun away back to the brighter lights of the other end of the room. As the music slowed, so did she. Her last turn was less a twirl than a stately rotation. During it, she unwrapped her skirt. She stood still, facing away from me. I could appreciate the view. From shoulders to heels, she was all one hue. She'd not taken much sun clothed. The back was femininely smooth, the muscles present but not apparent. Her waist was cinched by a narrow belt which held up her last covering. This split her buttocks with a thin red band tied on the belt with a bow. The bow was an obvious invitation. The buttocks were full but tight, leading to smooth, wide-apart, thighs. Her calves were as smooth and nearly as attractive.
"This, too, is yours," she said.