He was tempted to bring up the mention of courtesans. However, they referred to her using the royal rank of Contessa, and that dress was not something to be found in a shop. Venice was a trade city, so that might explain the silk and lace used to make her gown. Still, it fit her perfectly as though hand sewn to fit her every curve. I’ve never met a courtesan who could afford anything of that quality.
His eyes had drifted to the two bare mounds of flesh on her chest held in by her bustier. As she breathed in and out, he noted the buttons were facing him.
Disclaimer: This excerpt from Man of War is currently in development. There may be typos, errors, omissions, inconsistencies and so forth.
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