Alma's command to Magenta to train them as a single entity would prove to be a far easier task than Magenta might have initially thought. Ever since that first night in the Inn when Danae's gaze had fallen upon Dana, crying in despair over her inability to dance while blind, the two had truly become truly inseparable.

Each possessed talents the other did not...Dana, though blind, was an incredibly graceful dancer, supremely confident in her abilities. Her repertoire contained moves ranging from elegant steps that would look at home in the highest courts of the land all the way down to moves that would give a streetwalker a reason to pause. Danae, on the other hand, had no clue that the human body could move as Dana's did since being deaf and mute since birth she'd never known of the world of dance. She was, however possessed of a tender heart...especially where tears were concerned. And so it was that she would befriend Dana and upon discovering the source of her distress, suggest a solution that would prove ultimately the best idea she'd ever had: Dana would provide the ears to hear the music and the talent to dance lead, and Danae would provide the eyes and her hands would provide the gentle touch that would keep Dana safe and allow her to concentrate fully on enjoying herself rather than on the location of the notoriously migratory furniture.

Music and emotion were skillfully woven by Artemus' talented fingers upon his silver flute and given vibrant life by Dana's choreography. Their symbiotic existence proved contagious as even Vicki found herself drawn into the seductive twisting and writhing of bodies upon the dance floor, much to the interest and delight to the casual observers seated in the tavern's many seats and booths.

And so it should come as no surprise that they should find themselves both enthralled by the petite blonde and her statuesque beauty...for wherever one could be found, the other is not far behind, both the lesser half of a greater whole.

The bed is very wide. Two beauties, naked, perfumed, their pink places touched with sweet rouge, lie upon it, posed by careful hands. Between them Alma kneels, her own small body bare, even her pale blue eyes freed from the filter of her everpresent glasses.

She is pleased with Magenta's work as she procedes to tune this DeeDee, this two bodied woman, as carefully as a concert violinist running the scales on a Stradivarious.

Her attentions seem random, but there is ever a pattern, even further proof that the two are one. When she lavishes touches and kisses on the lips and the lovely fragile breasts of one, it is the nether lips and the sweet, rounded muscles of buttocks that the other finds pleasured.

With lips and tongue and neat front teeth, with soft fingers, smoothe palms and the quick rake of nails, she blends pleasure and pain into a candy cane of sensation. And, despite the seeming capriciousness of her play, soon their breathing quickens in synch, soon one is finishing the moans born in the other's throat. Soon they are climbing the quickened, breathless peak together under the attentions of their careful mistress.

And when they are trembling on the edge, when it seems that the barest breath from a lover's lips would send them both into spasms of pleasure, Alma stops, and stretches between them.

"Dare not touch yourselves little birds, your joy will break after you have helped me find mine. Bring me pleasure, my DeeDee, show me what you have learned, thrill me to the point that, for one joyous cliff-jump of a moment, I can put hatred behind me, for it so sours my life that I fear it will render me ugly...."

Closing her lids, though the pale eyes seem to still shift and search beneath them, she waits for the proof of Magenta's training, she waits for the climb to that brief not-being, she waits....