Ozymandias, some years past thirty, did not share her confidence that anything they got up to would take two hours to accomplish, but he was flattered all the same. There were things that he could do to draw it out, of course; he had not been a rake for a quarter of his life only to emerge with no relevant skills when it came to pleasing women. Her breasts had drawn his eye on at least a dozen occasions since he'd met her; he'd have plenty of time to become more intimately acquainted with the pair of them.

"Two hours," he echoed with a smile. He stood and watched her walk away from the table, noticing the swing of her hips and anticipating how he might go about undressing her. He stopped by the waiter and made the order for the tiramisu and chilled wine, then caught up with her in the hallway. He touched her waist lightly, as though he intended to offer her some direction, but of course it was really only an excuse to touch her. Not that he'd be needing any excuses soon enough: the door to his suite wasn't far.

"I hope it lives up to all your expectations," he joked as he swung the door open. If he'd only been talking about the suite, he was sure it would; it was lavish and large, with an attached bathroom and bay windows that overlooked the vineyard. He wasn't only talking about the suite, obviously, but he had no serious concerns about disappointing in that regard, either.

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