Ana shifted her weight, to press herself more tightly into me. We were turning each other on. She was still my damn client, though, and I had to stop this. I gave her ass a final squeeze and a pat, that could, maybe, just maybe, to justified as an act of affection and not lust. To show there were no hard feelings. Um, to show I had nothing against her. Um. Language, eh? Sometimes it tells the truth when you don’t want to. Anyway, I patted her goodbye and broke off the cuddle. 

I looked around, trying to arrange my thoughts. “Right. There’s a couch -“

But Sa’afia moved back in and held me tight for a few seconds. She looked into my eyes, smiling. The look was affectionate, mildly amused, and possessive. We lived in a world in which jealousy didn’t have much meaning, nor was it given much force where it existed.  But she was reminding me. I might be her Sir, but that was still a way of being hers, after all. 

I kissed Sa’afia. “Bed,” I said. “Soon.” Then I remembered that life was sexier when I set the rules, and the pace. “Go to my room. Take your clothes off. Wait for me at the foot of the bed. Standing up straight. Don’t you dare get in.” 

Sa’afia smiled. “Then I’ll see you soon.” If she’d doubted that I’d be coming to her that night, she no longer had any grounds for that. She looked at Ana, then me. “Goodnight, you two.” She went to my room. 

Ana was trying not to look as though she’d been listening. I’d given my instruction to Sa’afia quietly but I had no idea how much of it she’d heard.

“Okay, Ana. It’s the wondercouch for you. I’ll get you sheets and blankets and stuff. You can stuff those cushions into pillowcases.”