Adora's friends seemed to have swapped positions on the other side of the door, and the moaning escalated into a new register sharper, higher, and somehow even more enthusiastic than before. Each breathy cry echoed through the lavish suite, making the situation all the more absurd.

"Good," Adora muttered, cheeks aflame as she strained to listen. "That means they're probably halfway finished...hopefully." She rubbed her temples as though trying to ward off an oncoming headache. "I wish they'd hurry up and get it over with."

I shifted my weight, acutely aware of how little time I had to spare. The bar was waiting, my ridiculous costume might attract unwanted attention if I stayed away too long, and every minute stuck in this palatial restroom felt like an eternity. "I really do need to get back," I said with a tight smile. "But it looks like Fate isn't giving me much of a choice."

Adora let out an awkward chuckle that didn't reach her eyes. "Trust me, you're not the only one who'd rather be somewhere else." Her gaze kept wandering toward the door, and the deepening flush on her cheeks suggested she was far more embarrassed than she let on. She seemed almost...naive. Most noblewomen, especially those with her imposing stature and clear magical pedigree, exuded the kind of confidence that came from a lifetime of privilege. But Adora, for all her regal grace, looked more like a startled doe caught in someone else's snare.

I found that oddly curious. Perhaps she was, in fact, inexperienced. In a world where women vastly outnumbered men, nearly four to one, and where same-sex relationships between women were not just common but encouraged one might imagine a noble like Adora would have indulged in at least some experimental flings. Among the Kindred, men were rare, historically making up only around eight percent of the population before Great Undying Wars; even now, at nearly twenty-eight percent, they remained relatively scarce. For women of Adora's station, same-sex dalliances were often seen as the norm or, at minimum, a convenient outlet until the right man came along. Even then, monogamy in a relationship with a man was unheard of; women were expected to share in one way or another.

My mind drifted briefly to my own jumbled experiences regarding attraction. Despite the occasional frustration I felt about society's prejudices, I'd grown strangely comfortable with the idea that most of the Kindred males or females were, by inherited nature, bisexual. Sure, most had a preference for the opposite sex, sometimes intensely so, but the cultural acceptance of female-female romance was worlds apart from the scrutiny men faced if they displayed any interest in one another. Not that such relationships were illegal, but the scorn men often received made them difficult to maintain openly.

Even so, couples like Krenk and Strom defied the odds. The two of them had built a life together, albeit one haunted by the stigma of same-sex male unions. They rarely spoke of any children they had. I suspected that this culture's longstanding focus on breeding—on ensuring men fathered children had been a colossal barrier to the acceptance of male-male bonds. History was riddled with battles waged over control of men, from small clan or family feuds to entire Legionary campaigns. Even the legendary conquest of half the known world by Alexandria the Great was, if the stories could be believed, fueled by her desire to reclaim her stolen husband, Helenos of Troia.

The contrast was striking: women were expected almost prodded to form intimate friendships or romantic liaisons with one another, while men in similar situations faced an uphill battle for acceptance. The fact that Adora, with all her advantages, still radiated such raw self-consciousness told me there was more to her story than she was letting on.

A louder cry from the next room shattered my thoughts. Adora winced, burying her face in her hands for a moment before glancing back at me with an apologetic half-smile. "I'm sorry," she said. "I never meant for Fate to drag you to end up in this predicament. If there were a way to dispel these wards and get us both out—"

"No need to apologize," I assured her, attempting a reassuring tone. "It's not your fault the teleport handles or the wards malfunctioned...or that your friends decided to hold an impromptu rendezvous." I gestured vaguely at the gold-gilded walls. "I doubt any of us planned on this."

She let out a slow, measured exhale. "It's so embarrassing…listening to that," she said, nodding toward the door. "I'm not a prude, but there's a difference between privacy and being forced to eavesdrop."

I offered a sympathetic half-grin. "Trust me, I've heard more than my fair share during late-night shifts behind the bar." Then I held up the flamboyant attire draped over my arm. "Anyway, I only popped in here to get changed and do a quick touch-up with some makeup. That was the entire reason I grabbed the teleporter handle."

Her eyebrows arched slightly, but she refrained from asking too many questions. Soon enough, another rapturous moan filtered through, and we both flinched. Adora let out a breathy laugh. "So you're planning to wear that?" She gestured to the frilly shirt and the absurdly large belt buckle. "Is it for a date or something?"

I scoffed, shaking my head. "No date involved, thank the Aspects. I'm helping run a let's call it a 'beer hall' and apparently dressing like a 'tavern dandy' is supposed to drum up more customers"

Her surprise melted into a fleeting grin. "I can believe that," she said, her voice taking on a teasing edge. "You'd be impossible to forget in that ensemble. And you might just be cute enough to pull it off." Another chorus of passionate cries made her cheeks redden again, and she glanced anxiously at the sealed door. "Well," she muttered, "I'll just wait behind that pillar, then. At least I won't see you trying on...whatever that is."

She hesitated, looking unsure of herself, but finally crossed the distance in a few long, determined strides. Soon, she disappeared behind one of the marble columns, arms folded as she tried to ignore the scandalous noises.

I exhaled, feeling a surge of relief for even this small sliver of privacy. Setting Krenk's garish "tavern dandy" outfit on a nearby bench, I regarded each piece with wary disdain. The sheer white shirt, with its puffed sleeves, fluttered mockingly in the ambient breeze. The cheap, overly bright vest looked liable to fall apart at the seams, and the short shorts were precisely as indecent as I'd feared. Fastening the enormous belt buckle would only add insult to injury, but if it was going to help King Victor's Bar score profits, I might as well commit to the bit.

Grumbling under my breath, I stripped off my regular clothes and began donning the costume. The translucent sleeves drew attention to my arms in a way that felt both uncomfortable and strangely flattering; the vest clung to my torso, accentuating my chest and shoulders. The shorts, however, were a lost cause I felt half-naked. At least the belt buckle seemed to distract from my thighs by acting as a gaudy focal point. "Just fantastic," I muttered to my reflection in one of the mirrored panels. "I look like a wandering court fop who can't afford pants."

The whole ensemble look even more ludicrous like I was auditioning for a cheesy romance novel cover. Still, it wasn't entirely hideous; it definitely highlighted my physique more than standard attire would. Perhaps that was the point. Next, I rummaged through a small pouch for the subtle men's makeup I'd picked up. In this world, men's cosmetics generally aimed to enhance the masculine face concealer, a bit of subtle foundation, maybe bronzer or a dusting of eyeshadow to sharpen or clarify features. I typically skipped it to keep a low profile, but the job demanded I go all in tonight. If I was going to make an impression, I might as well do it right.

I dabbed concealer under my eyes, patted a little foundation across my cheeks and chin, and then smoothed on a hint of bronzer to sculpt out my jawline. A faint line of eyeliner, so thin it was almost invisible, helped define my gaze without making me look like I was heading for the stage. Checking the mirror again, I noted I'd forgotten eyebrow grooming men's eyebrows here were often shaped just enough to accentuate the eyes without looking feminine. With a small brush, I neatened them, then stepped back to inspect my handiwork.

Then there was the matter of beard grooming at least, for those men fortunate enough to grow one. Most did so if they could, since a full beard was widely viewed as an emblem of masculinity. Yet thanks to mana supplements to add in viable male births, the ability to cultivate facial hair had become increasingly rare among new generations of Kindred men.

Me? I took a different route. Every morning, I lathered up and shaved, a small act of personal defiance. Of course, it didn't help that my beard tended to reassert itself by midday, my five o'clock shadow more like a stubborn intruder refusing to stay gone. But I kept at it all the same it was one of the few ways I could still make my own statement in a world that seemed determined to define me before I had the chance to define myself.

"All right," I murmured. "Let's see how the audience reacts to this."

A flicker of amusement crossed my face as I thought about Adora, waiting on the other side of that marble pillar. Her breathless discomfort, her strange mix of noble confidence and naive self-consciousness there was more to that woman than met the eye. But my pressing task remained: I had to escape this ridiculous predicament and return to work. If Luck was on my side, her friends would soon exhaust themselves, the wards would drop, and we could both slip away before any further humiliations came our way.

The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.

Steeling myself, I picked up the short cloak that went with the outfit because, of course, there was a cape and slung it over my shoulders. Taking one last, cringing glance in the mirror, I squared my shoulders. "Time to face the music," I said under my breath, heart thudding with a mix of nerves and determination.

As I moved to rejoin Adora, I couldn't help wondering just how many more bizarre turns this night might take. If one thing was certain, though, it was that I wouldn't soon forget the image of a flustered noblewoman, hiding behind a pillar while her friends made the walls shake with passion nor the fact that I, in my ridiculous "tavern dandy" ensemble, was stuck right in the middle of it all.

Adora peered around the pillar at me, a faint spark of mirth dancing in her gaze. "This has been...one of the strangest nights of my entire life," she admitted, voice subdued.

My responding laugh emerged warm and quiet. "Trust me," I said, meeting her eyes, "you're preaching to the choir."

Her gaze slowly trailed downward, and I felt the intensity of her stare landing right where I least expected it at my groin. Among the Kindred, men were already known to be well-endowed, but even by those standards, I'd been told my size was rather conspicuous. Even flaccid, it verged on the absurd, something I'd long since accepted as part of my anatomy. There was no stuffing or padding going on like some men tried, either everything on display was simply me. In a culture where a man's sexual attributes were prized as highly as a woman's figure might have been in my old life, it was no wonder Adora's attention drifted there so openly. A faint hum of renewed moaning from behind the walls seemed to spur her on, and I noticed her tongue dart out to lick her lips, as if she were unconsciously savoring the view.

She dragged her eyes back up to meet mine, and for a moment, I saw the flicker of raw hunger in her gaze. The flush on her cheeks deepened, and her breaths came faster, as though the sounds of her friends in the next room were adding fuel to a fire she could barely contain. Her voice came out low and slightly tremulous, yet tinged with a new boldness. "I'm not usually this forward," she admitted, swallowing hard, "but I'd be lying if I said I wasn't at least a little worked up after hearing...that." She gestured toward the wall separating us from her friends' very vocal activities.

"You're my type," she went on, her tone growing warmer. "Really my type like Fate handpicked you from my dreams and dropped you into my life. From just this short encounter, I can see you're considerate, humble, and light-years better than all those foppish tail-chasers who've tried to court me." She paused for a second, seeming almost shy despite her frank words, then inhaled deeply and continued. "Look, I'm not trying to pressure you. If you say no, I'll respect that completely. But I'd really like to..."

She hesitated, her eyes flicking to our surroundings as though considering how to phrase it. Then her gaze settled on me, intent and candid. "I'd really like to hold your hand, if that's all right. Just something to ease some of this pent-up energy I'm feeling. I know it might sound too lewd, we only just met." Her cheeks flamed red once more, and she tried for a self-conscious laugh. "But, my mana is really starting to get agitated, and sharing it with you would help alot."

The tension in the air felt almost tangible, charged by a current of desire, curiosity, and mutual uncertainty. I could see the hope in her eyes an earnest plea for the gesture of connection in a moment that had spiraled beyond her control. Given the circumstances, her request felt surprisingly modest to me, but, in a society that revolved around physical intimacy of sharing mana and the complex politics of men and women, holding hands was a big deal.

Yet here we were, half-trapped in a gilded restroom, subjected to the relentless soundtrack of her friends' pleasure through the walls. For all her poise and noble upbringing, Adora looked as though she were balancing on the edge of a cliff, not sure whether to take a leap or step back. And for reasons I couldn't entirely explain, I found myself wanting to offer her some sense of safety some small anchor in this bizarre, heated scenario. We had only just met, but I felt that I had known her my entire life.

Maybe crafting a sweet memory with a beautiful, beguiling young woman tonight would help counterbalance the earlier chaos, I mused. Allowing a teasing grin to tug at my lips, I said, "Well, I wouldn't be much of a dandy if I refused, would I?"

I tried to inject a playful air into my words, deliberately leaning into the jaunty persona implied by my flamboyant attire. Reaching out, I gently took her hand, feeling the warmth of her palm meet mine. Then, with a mild flourish, I guided her toward a small bench along the wall, hoping the gesture might bring a touch of genuine levity to an evening already overrun by awkwardness and overheard passion.

----------------------------------------

Codex

Transcript of Vid Stages of Relationship by Drusenna the Layer, Vidtube

"Hey there, welcome back to the channel! If you're new here, I'm Drusenna the Layer, your go-to-orc gal for building confident, healthy relationships. Today, we're diving into a topic I get asked about all the time—'the Stages' of a physical relationship. You know, those metaphorical stage plays that people use to talk about intimacy? Let's break them down in a way that's respectful, clear, and insightful.

Before we jump in, let me say this physical relationships should always be about mutual respect, communication, and consent. Every person and relationship is different, so these 'Stages' are just a framework. It's not the old days when a gal could take any man she wanted when she wanted if she could get away with it. Got it? Alright, let's put on a show!"

"Alright, so here's the breakdown. The first stage is all about touching, preferably on the skin. It could be a sweet peck on the cheek, a hug, handholding, or exploring what feels natural for both of you. It's about initiating physical closeness and seeing if there's chemistry. Getting ready to share mana.

The second stage is when you start sharing your mana with the man. This is vital to getting him aroused. You can touch, caress, kiss, hell, even suck his cock, but without sharing your mana, you're not going to get that pecker up. Try to keep in mind how much you are giving him. You don't want to overwhelm him. That being said, every man has a level of intensity he is comfortable with. A little communication can go a long way in finding out what that is.

The third stage is when he starts sharing his mana with you. It's important not to get overwhelmed when this starts. You don't want to jump to the really fun part until he can share enough. Don't forget he enjoys giving you that extra mana just as much as you enjoyed giving yours to him. Besides, you'll need that extra mana later. Try more intimate touching above the waist or below, such as holding, caressing, or cuddling. This is where trust really starts to build because he is being more vulnerable. Now, when talking about intimate touching below the waist. This base is about deeper exploration, but again, only if both partners are entirely comfortable and enthusiastic about it. Being serviced by a man is great, I know, but it's important not to run out of steam before the next stage.

You guessed it, the final stage is full sexual intimacy. It's a significant step that should be approached with care, responsibility, and a lot of communication. Are you both ready? Are you both on the same page about what this means for your relationship? These are important questions to discuss. We tend to forget as women that this is a dangerous time for a man. Before mana supplements were introduced, the most common cause of death for a man was mana exhaustion during intimacy. Make sure he's not giving too much of himself. If you suspect he is suffering from mana exhaustion, stop and seek medical intervention immediately. Another thing to be aware of for first-time gals, is the call to release and fertilize after he finishes inside you is a lot stronger than you think. Be prepared, and you should be able to redirect all that wonderful mana back into you instead of getting pregnant.

"Now, here's the thing: these stages aren't a checklist or a race. Healthy relationships aren't about good reviews.' They're about connection, understanding, and ensuring that you're both comfortable every step of the way. It's okay to pause at any stage and enjoy the show or even until you're both ready to move forward.

And hey, if you ever feel unsure or awkward about discussing boundaries, know that's normal! Talking about these things can feel intimidating, but it's a sign of respect and maturity.

"So, what do you think? Do these stages make sense to you? Let me know in the comments below no need to get too personal, of course! And if you found this helpful, give it a thumbs-up, share it with a friend, and subscribe for more tips on building the relationship you deserve.

Until next time, remember: great relationships start with great communication. You've got this girl!"