Strax looked around, surrounded by figures who were not just beautiful—they were epic. Each woman before him represented something beyond the physical. They were living archetypes, manifestations of the primal forces of nature and desire. He felt the pressure of all their presences weighing on his shoulders like cloaks of power, and yet, he smiled.
A genuine smile. Tired, but genuine.
He raised one hand in a pacifying gesture, as if he knew he was in the center of a hurricane of lust, tension, and unfulfilled promises.
"You... all of you..." His voice was husky but carried the deep timbre that made hearts race. "...are wonderful. Each of you. And I... promise that each of you will have your moment. But..."
He turned to Cristine and Rogue, looking at them with affection and firmness, like a king dealing with his most impatient subjects.
