Isabela never lets her hair down, she's always wearing that same bandanna around her head. So forgive me if it's the first thing I notice when I walk into the room - her hair. It's glossy and black, like the surface of a lake on a moonless night and it's long, it cascades down her back in thick curls and falls over her full breasts, drawing my gaze finally to her skin. It's beautiful, like burnished bronze, the candlelight casting interesting shadows on it.

She lies on the bed with her back to me, though I have no doubt that she knows exactly where I am standing by the door, the sheets tangled around her legs and draped over the curve of her bottom so neatly it cannot be accidental. I'm rooted to the spot, although my armour is growing hot and uncomfortable I find it impossible to move. Then she lifts a delicate hand and bends a finger in an unmistakable invitation…come here…and I go, dropping pieces of armor on the floor as I walk.