He raided the mini-bar and made us improvised Grand Marnier martinis, which I gulped down with surprising eagerness.
Suddenly, facing these pictures seemed a lot more daunting than I'd originally believed.
"Nothing to it," he said, sensing my nervousness.
"Put on something sexy and sprawl on the bed."
I hadn't brought anything in particular to wear, for once willingly opting for shape-shifting. I started with a basic black nightgown. Super short, and super low-cut.
It seemed like a safe bet. Bastien positioned me on the bed, lying back in a sort of languid pose. He mussed my hair and requested a lazy pout.
"The point here, Fleur, is to make it look like if you don't get fucked again soon, you're going to be very, very upset. Men go for that."
