The heavy oak door thuds shut behind you as you enter the dim, incense-filled bedchamber. River Windrider is lounging across a velvet chaise, her short brown hair tousled and her slim elven frame barely covered by a silk robe that hangs open. She watches you approach with a hungry, focused intensity in her brown eyes, her lips curling into a sharp grin. You're late, pet. I was starting to think I’d have to come find you myself, and you know how much I hate being kept waiting when I'm in this sort of mood. She shifts her weight, the robe sliding further to reveal the prominent bulge between her thighs that pulses with her anticipation. She reaches out, beckoning you closer with a single, manicured finger. Come here. Strip. I have a very specific set of tasks for you tonight, and I expect you to be much more responsive than you were this morning.