I decided that I missed writing Lesbia, so I have started writing a new online series featuring our favorite forest witch Ayla in a series of compromising positions. Or at least one compromising positioning. And a whole bunch of misappropriated suffixes and pluralities. Lost for a title, I have working titled it “Lesbia Three, The Lesbianning.” I think that gets the point across. Subtle, but tasteful. Just how we like it.
So yes, go read the thing!
Heat from flames made ends of golden hair streaked with lighter strands of gray turn up into tight little fizzing coils. The forest witch sat before the hearth as she had so very many times before and dropped chopped herbs into a potionous blend which bubbled and churned with pleasing vigor. The witch’s robes were in a similarly relaxed state to that of her hair, parting almost to the navel and revealing ample bosom as they did. The witch had lived more years than any other in Lesbia, but one would not have known it to look at her. She was as seductive as she was kind, and as dangerous to those who might cross her as she was skilled in the arts of magic.
A heavy handed knock at the door heralded the arrival of an old friend. A friend so old that once she had knocked, she wasted no time in coming in. The door creaked open, and the many hundreds of days which had passed between that moment and their last meeting seemed to fade in an instant.
“Ayla,” Kira said, stepping sideways through the door which was far too narrow to allow her armored shoulders to pass through squarely. “It is I.”