Hiro. . .you little freak.
“Hold up.” I placed my hand on my chest. “Hiro just said, ‘Hey, let’s have an orgy?’”
“Actually. . .” She held a finger to her chin and thought about it. “I’m pretty sure Hiro climbed onto the table and yelled, ‘The orgy is about to begin. Fangs and anyone else that doesn’t want to participate get out.’”
“What?!”
“The Fangs then demanded that they did want to participate, but Hiro said it was the Claws’ orgy.”
“Oh God.” I laughed.
“I was sure it would be a battle, but they yelled out a few curses at him and left.” She bobbed her head. “And the orgy was quite delightful. Just what Ayame and I needed.”
They got freaky with the Claws?
I made sure to keep my shock and amusement off my face.
“An excellent evening.” Tsukiko guided my guards and me forward.
The relaxing fragrance of incense rose around us. The chaise sat low and long against the far wall. The mirror across from it caught us as we moved through the room.
The cage was still in the corner, and my slave was sleeping inside.
There he goes.
Tsukiko walked us toward it. "Hiroko used to tell us that there are very few things in this world that an orgasm cannot heal. Headaches. Bad days. Heartbreak and. . .grief.”
I stopped in front of the cage and looked at her.
"Hiroko said that grief sits in the body. In the hips. In the throat. In the place where the breath gets stuck." Tsukiko touched her own throat lightly with two fingers. "She said tears do some of the work. Sleep does some of the work. But pleasure—realpleasure, the kind that empties you out—pleasure does the work the other two cannot. It moves the grief out of the body the way only the body can move it."
She gave me a sad smile. "So when Hiro climbed onto the table last night and announced what he announced, I thought of Hiroko. And I stayed."
“Good. Then. . .did you get that. . .release?”
Her cheeks went pink. "Daisuke helped."
"Aww."
She lifted her chin. "Twice."
“Alright now.”
Go Daisuke.
“I’m grateful to him.” She sighed. “Thanks to those orgasms, the morning came easier today. Our packing and thoughts for the future after this war seem. . .brighter. Maybe even hopeful.”
“Perfect.”
I looked down at my sleeping slave. He was curled up on his side inside. His breath slowly moved in and out.
Today, he was in a fresh black leather bodysuit. His hands were tucked under his cheek. His knees were drawn up.
And in his arms, pressed against his chest and tucked under his chin like a teddy bear, was one of Hiroko's leather heeled boots.
Black.
Tall.
