If anyone had paid attention, they would have noticed Queen Gwen constantly glancing in the direction of the traveling couple. With furtive looks toward her maid behind her as well. King Brent, on the other hand, looked exclusively at the woman, Megan. Even the Crown Prince would glance her way some times.All through dinner, Meric and Megan kept to themselves, talking to others just enough to be polite. After the minimum amount of time passed to allow them to leave politely, they got up and went to their rooms.Megan walked swiftly through the door followed by her husband. Heading directly to the bags in the corner, she picked one up and went into the bedroom. Once there she opened the bag and began to remove various leather straps with buckles, and odd shaped devices made of wood, ivory, and metal. Some of the straps she fastened to the four corners of the bed frame. Others she left in a pile next to the devices. She then removed two glass vials and set them next to the pile of. In the gentle gloaming of April I often deliberately chose the longer way home after school in order to pass the football field of the university and catch sight of the robust, youthful bodies of the football lads. The silhouettes of their running bodies in the dusk often evoked a sense of heroicism in me, that sense of golden masculinity, strong, powerful, ready to conquer the world, which I myself lack. At the age of fifteen, I was thin and had a rather pale, melancholic complexion. My natural air of melancholy was often mistaken for unhappiness caused by some trouble, hence my fellow students always tried to cheer me up in vain. I knew exactly the cause of this melancholy: I was in love, not with a particular person, but with the notion of love and masculinity. My burgeoning body longed to be touched, kissed, dominated. Its thirst demands to be quenched by a virile body. Every night, in the dark silence of the night, my hand would caress my entire body and experience the unknown.
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