The beginning of a marque was never something ease to adjust to. No matter how well the Houses had trained, no matter the endless hours of training and the skills pressed upon a Servant of Naamah, the first to pay was always the one that left them feeling infantile and inexperienced.

Amiryn had been trained well, had wandered the various houses to learn many skills even as she took her final place as one of the Night Blooming flowers. The submissive servitude and artistic grace of some of the other Houses though left her often curious.

The first that had requested for her by name had asked her to come to one such House. It was not a strange thing for her to be asked to meet the customer under unusual circumstances... which certainly this was.

Wisps of fabric and coy trinkets seemed to forge themselves as an excuse of clothing, leaving more flesh exposed and any subtle moment of desire's thrall to be far too obvious.

Reposed in her chair as regal as a queen, back arched and legs tucked beneath her. Those glacier depths were fastened upon the stage where a pair from the local House proved their training well.

Her lips parted, a smolder taken to those blues as the first threads of arousal eased through her spirit, body in arch for a far different reason as she watched the woman lick and lap at the man's flesh on the stage as a cat would a bowl of milk.

The servant's arousal was obvious by the hardened state of him, the dark baritone of his voice reduced to nothing more then carnal growls and savage snarls of pleasure.

His partner was if anything... an ingenue of bliss.

As they all were meant to be, all in different forms and fashions. Amiryn's head was thrown back as her lips parted for the wet of tongue to caress the full offering of her mouth. She was only becoming far more restless in her seat when that whisper came to the shell of her ear, the lust of touches to spill down her flesh to caress the swell of breast and roll the hardened peak of nipple into stone at his touch.

"I have never been with an Anguissette. I have looked forward to find out if the rumors... were true."

"I cannot speak for the others, but I know that what was spoken of me has been nothing save for truths."

"Prove it then. Work for the first touch of ink to your skin and if you please me and prove well the rumors are indeed truth... you shall have the start of your marque."

His fingers, his touch bold as it spilled down her flesh like paint upon a canvas. She rose then to take his offered hand to retreat to one of the offered rooms.

Knowing well that night his touch would make her the start of a masterpiece.