In Honour Of Lady Florence

Hours had passed since the fevered moments of passion, and now the grand banquet hall lay in quiet stillness under the soft glow of the setting sun. The space, once alive with fervent energy, had transformed into a serene haven where exhaustion mingled with deep contentment.

Across the hall, plush sofas were scattered about like islands of comfort. On each one, the maids slept peacefully, their bodies curled under delicate blankets.

Their faces bore the unmistakable marks of satisfaction—a gentle, almost dreamlike smile that spoke of a night filled with pleasures too profound to forget. In the quiet, every slow rise and fall of their chests whispered of intimate memories and unspoken ecstasy.

But the truth was that the maids never consciously chose the sofas, as the exhaustion had quite literally overtaken them.