With her settled comfortably on his lap, even the allure of banter was unable to stop his hands and lips from wandering. It quickly became a game of trying to get her chemise off without breaking their kiss - or without breaking the fabric itself. In the end, it wasn't a game he could win; the fabric ripped first, but in his best attempt to salvage it, he broke the kiss with a muffled laugh and helped pull it over her head.

"Firs the corset, then your chemise - there's always a new problem," he admitted sheepishly, his hands wandering up and down her body on their own accord. In reality, he was probably a little rusty: he hadn't been a brothel in a few months, but the fear of an unwed pregnancy meant taking extra precautions.

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