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Chapter 3 The Nile Boat Dinner
The Nile at night never felt like ordinary water. It felt like a decision that kept moving. The surface carried moonlight in long, trembling ribbons, and the river air was cooler than Thebes, cleaner, sharper, the kind of cold that makes leather feel even more intimate because it holds warmth close and turns every touch into something deliberate.
Pucka arrived at the dock already dressed for a night that would not be gentle. Her glossy black leather leggings were high waisted and perfectly tight, polished enough to catch every lantern flame and send it gliding down her thighs. Over her chest, she wore a structured leather top that shaped her with elegant firmness, and beneath that she could feel the warm press of leather lingerie, private and constant. Her leather harness sat exactly where it belonged, tracing lines that made her body look like intention, and the leather choker at her throat carried its ring like a quiet dare.
She did not wonder who would be waiting. She already knew. She only wondered which of them would touch her first, and whether she would let it happen in the open air of the dock, where the river could witness.
The boat was not large, but it was lavish in that particular way that means someone with power wanted privacy without sacrificing beauty. Black leather cushions lined the seating area, arranged in a way that encouraged closeness rather than distance. A low table sat at the center with a leather runner, polished and dark, and the lanterns were placed so the light would pool around bodies rather than spill into the water. Even the curtains that framed the small cabin entrance were heavy leather, matte black, designed to mute sound and narrow the world.
Amberis was there first, standing near the stern like she owned the boat simply by being on it. She wore a fitted leather jacket, sleek and immaculate, the collar framing her throat like a threat disguised as style. Under it, a leather top pressed close to her chest, and her leather leggings were darker than midnight with a subtle sheen that caught the lantern light in thin, sharp highlights. Leather gloves covered her hands, and the gloves mattered because they made every gesture look intentional, like touch was a privilege she granted rather than a reflex.
Sirenna appeared from the cabin entry a moment later, quiet as water and twice as commanding. She wore her long leather coat closed, smooth and heavy, and beneath it the shape of a fitted leather dress was visible in the way the coat fell and pressed at her waist and hips. Leather cuffs hugged her wrists. A narrow leather collar sat at her throat with a dark stone centered like a seal. She moved with the same composed patience Pucka remembered from the temple, and she carried that patience like a weapon that could also be an invitation.
Neither of them spoke at first. They simply looked at Pucka in a way that made her feel like the night had already begun, and the boat was only the setting.
Amberis stepped closer and let her gaze drop to Pucka’s glossy leggings and harness before returning to her eyes. You keep wearing your shine, she said, and the words sounded like praise and warning at the same time.
Pucka met her gaze without flinching, because that was the only way to speak to Amberis. I do not dress to be ignored, she replied, and her voice stayed calm even as her pulse sharpened.
Sirenna’s eyes rested on the leather ring at Pucka’s throat, and the look was quiet, heavy, approving. Tonight is not a summons, Sirenna said, but the way she said it made it feel like something deeper than a request. Tonight is an offering, if you want it to be.
Pucka let a slow smile form, because she loved that they were both powerful in completely different ways and that her body wanted both. Then I want it, she said, and she made the words clear, because consent was not a mood, it was a ritual that made everything hotter.
They moved into the seating area together, and the boat drifted away from the dock with a soft creak, as if it was exhaling. The lanterns made leather gleam everywhere, on leggings, jackets, cuffs, collars, and on the table runner beneath the plates. The dinner was already arranged, beautiful and deliberate, fruit and bread and spiced meat, small dishes of honey and herbs, wine dark enough to look like it belonged to the river. The scents rose warm and slow, mixing with the cool night air until everything felt like luxury.
Pucka sat between them, not because she was trapped, but because she chose the center. Leather cushions hugged her hips through her leggings, and the proximity of both women made the air feel crowded in the best way. Amberis’s gloved hand brushed her thigh once, slow, firm, and unmistakably intentional, and the leather glove on leather leggings was a sensation that made Pucka breathe differently because it felt controlled and obscene without needing to be crude. Sirenna’s fingers touched Pucka’s wrist a moment later, bare skin on leather cuff, and the contrast between glove discipline and bare hand precision made Pucka feel like her body was being read in two different dialects.
They ate and drank, but none of them pretended the food was the main event. The dinner was the slow build, the excuse to watch mouths, to notice breath, to let small touches become permission. Amberis fed Pucka a piece of fruit with her gloved fingers, and the gesture was almost insulting in its confidence, like Amberis was testing whether Pucka would accept being handled. Pucka accepted, but she did it by leaning in and taking the fruit with her lips in a way that made Amberis’s eyes darken, because Pucka refused to be passive even in acceptance.
Sirenna poured wine and let the liquid catch lantern light as it fell, then offered the cup to Pucka first. When Pucka drank, Sirenna’s gaze stayed on her mouth as if she was memorizing the shape of it for later. Sirenna reached forward and wiped a single drop from the corner of Pucka’s lip with her thumb, slow and careful, and the intimacy of that small act landed harder than anything loud, because it said Sirenna had time and would use it.
Amberis leaned closer, her leather jacket creasing softly as she moved, and her voice lowered. You should not look at her like that unless you plan to follow through, she murmured, and it was unclear whether the warning was for Pucka or for Sirenna, which made it better.
Sirenna answered without raising her voice, and the calm was its own dominance. I always follow through, she said, and then she turned to Pucka with that quiet certainty. Tell us what you want tonight, clearly, she added, and the phrasing made it feel like a familiar ritual rather than a demand.
Pucka set her wine down and let her fingers rest on the leather table runner, feeling the smooth surface beneath her palm as if grounding herself in texture. I want both of you, she said, and she did not soften the truth because there was no point. I want your attention, your patience, your hands, and I want leather everywhere, because it is what makes me feel most like myself. I want this to be slow enough to remember and long enough to ruin me for ordinary nights.
Amberis’s gaze tightened with approval, and her gloved hand settled higher on Pucka’s thigh over the glossy leggings, pressing with controlled firmness that made Pucka’s spine straighten. Sirenna’s fingers touched the ring on Pucka’s choker lightly, not pulling, not claiming, just reminding her of the agreement. Then we do it properly, Sirenna said, and she looked to Amberis for a beat, not asking permission, but establishing coordination, which felt unmistakably intimate.
Amberis’s mouth curved, restrained and dangerous. Properly, she echoed, and her gloved hand slid from Pucka’s thigh to Pucka’s waist, finding the leather harness strap and pressing there, as if she wanted to feel how the strap held Pucka together.
Sirenna leaned in first, kissing Pucka slowly, deeply, with a patience that felt like water. Pucka kissed back with steady hunger, and the way their mouths moved together made the dinner table disappear without anyone needing to clear it. Sirenna’s thumb rested at Pucka’s jaw as if guiding her, and Pucka loved how Sirenna controlled with softness.
Amberis moved in from the other side and kissed Pucka too, not stealing, not interrupting, but joining, and the difference was immediate. Amberis kissed like discipline, like pressure that expects an answer. Pucka gave her one, turning her head and meeting Amberis with equal intent, and for a moment Pucka felt the exact point where Sirenna’s patience and Amberis’s authority collided inside her body.
Their leather brushed and shifted with every movement. The sound was constant now, that soft whisper of jackets, leggings, straps, cuffs, and collars. Pucka’s hands moved across both women, gripping Amberis’s leather jacket at the lapels, then sliding over Sirenna’s coat, feeling the difference between matte and sheen, between structured and flowing, between two kinds of power that both turned her on. Amberis’s gloves made her touch feel precise and deliberate on Pucka’s leather, and Sirenna’s bare hands made her touch feel warm and devotional, and Pucka realized she could get addicted to the contrast.
Sirenna broke the kiss just long enough to speak close to Pucka’s mouth, her voice low and steady. Do you want this to continue inside the cabin, where the curtains can hold the sound, she asked, and the question was not about permission to be loud, it was about permission to go deeper.
Pucka answered clearly, because she wanted everything about this night to be intentional. Yes, she said, and she pulled both women closer with both hands, as if she could physically bring the night into focus.
Amberis stood first and offered her gloved hand to Pucka, and the gesture looked almost formal, like an escort, which made it hotter. Pucka took it and rose, her glossy leather leggings catching lantern light as she moved. Sirenna moved with them, and the three of them crossed into the cabin together, leather curtains closing behind them with a dense, quiet finality that made the world outside feel like it had been locked away.
Inside the cabin the lantern light was softer, closer, and the leather everywhere made it feel like stepping into a private obsession. The seating was leather. The cushions were leather. Even the headrest along the wall was leather, designed for bodies to press into it. The air was warmer here, and the smell of leather mixed with wine and night air until it felt like the perfume of a fantasy.
Amberis removed her gloves slowly and visibly, finger by finger, and set them aside on a leather surface, making it clear that what came next would feel different. Sirenna unfastened her leather coat and let it slide from her shoulders, placing it neatly to one side, leaving her in her fitted leather dress and leather cuffs and collar, unchanged and consistent. Pucka did not remove anything yet, and the fact that she stayed dressed in full leather while being surrounded by two women in full leather made her feel like the center of a ritual she had always wanted.
Sirenna stepped close and kissed her again, slower now, deeper, and Amberis moved behind Pucka and pressed close, leather jacket against Pucka’s back, heat building where bodies meet. Amberis’s hands slid over Pucka’s waist and harness straps with confident pressure, and Sirenna’s hands moved over Pucka’s shoulders and chest through the structured leather top, holding her with firm, careful touch. Pucka’s breath deepened. Her hands reached back to Amberis’s hips, then forward to Sirenna’s waist, and she loved how she could hold both of them at once and feel two different kinds of strength answer her.
They kept kissing, trading, sharing, layering the intimacy so it felt continuous rather than interrupted. Sirenna kissed Pucka as if she wanted to imprint her, and Amberis kissed Pucka as if she wanted to claim her attention, and Pucka gave herself to both because that was exactly the fantasy. Their hands stayed on leather, over leather, under leather at safe edges, tightening straps, tracing seams, pressing at breasts through leather tops and dresses, gripping hips through fitted leather, and letting the sensations escalate without turning into explicit description.
When the night crossed into the part that belongs to skin and breath and the private noises leather makes when it is pushed and held and used, the river continued outside like a witness. The boat drifted. The cabin stayed warm. The leather curtains held the world away. Pucka felt herself pulled into a long, slow, hungry rhythm between two women who knew exactly how to make her feel desired and safe at the same time, and she gave herself to it without needing to narrate the most explicit details for it to be real.
Much later, when the lanterns had burned lower and the river air had turned colder outside, the three of them remained tangled in leather and warmth, close enough that the night felt like a single shared body. The dinner table was forgotten, but the taste of wine still lingered. The leather still held heat. The river still moved, patient, indifferent, eternal.
Pucka lay between them and let her fingers rest on Amberis’s hand and Sirenna’s wrist, anchoring herself in touch. Amberis’s voice was low and satisfied when she spoke. The palace would hate this, she said, because the palace hates anything it cannot control.
Sirenna’s voice answered with calm certainty. The water does not hate, she said. The water remembers.
Pucka smiled, slow and dangerous, because she loved both truths. Then remember me, she murmured, and she turned her head to kiss Sirenna again before turning to kiss Amberis, refusing to choose one ending.
Outside, the Nile carried the boat forward, and inside, leather and love and obsession carried the night the rest of the way.
End of Chapter 3
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