He hated being late. Hurriedly he pushed the elevator button, glancing momentarily at his watch. A small, curvy, blond woman stood next to him. She smelled of honey. A hint of vanilla rested in her hair. A shiver went down his spine. He tried to ignore it, glancing irritatedly at her. She didn't seem to notice. She was looking towards him, a shy smile painting her lips. Red and pouty. He tried not to notice that too. His eyes flicked over her. Her legs were long, despite her petite height. Her tweed skirt was a bit too short, but her butt was round and small. Tiny waist. Full breasts pushed against her silk blouse. He could see the out line of her nipples. Nathan flushed slightly. The young woman was starring at him, brows arched. As quickly as the flush came it was gone. He tossed her a smirk of a smile. The doors to the elevator opened. Nathan and the young woman joined the small group of people in the elevator. His arm brushed over shoulder as he pressed the #12 button. Once. The harpies left and Helen was bored. If this had been any other day, she should be busy embroider, perfecting the technique for when she would have to portray on a tapestry the deeds of her husband, the tale of her family; she should study herbs to tend to the indisposition of her future husband; she should be studying history to be able to teach her children; she should be praying in her spare time.But today it was different and excitement prevented her from concentrating on anything. She had been spending years in complete isolation inside that tower, from puberty up until now, she already made peace with her meager lot in this life: to be used as a vessel to carry a stranger's offspring. She just sat on a padded chair, watching outside of the window, observing the horizon, waiting for the guards to come and escort her to the tourney.---All of the unmarried warriors of the city attended to the annual tournament, jousting, fighting in their heavy armor and ultimately, showing.
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