Leela
After saying yes, I went limp in his arms. I was exhausted. Exhausted from the mental anguish of telling him about transgressions, from the weight of the decision resting on my shoulders, and preparing myself for his rejection. He carried me to my bed and lay me down, blowing out the two lanterns. I watched him walk towards me, the moonlight casting his large shadow across my chambers.
He was dressed in what could only be the traditional clothing of Zamee. A simple white cotton tunic with gold thread work around the V shaped neck, with white loose trousers that he told me were called a shalwar. As he strode towards me, he lifted his tunic over his head and I gasped.
He was sculpted to perfection, the moon highlighting every muscle in his chest, every ripple in his arms when he cle
