Scene: A lavish chamber, draped in silken tapestries, dimly lit by the flicker of golden candlelight.

Enter NICI STERLING, a vision of desire, clad in garments finer than moon-kissed mist. She reclines upon a bed of velvet. Enter GIGOLO JOE, a rogue of charm, his doublet undone, his lips curled in wicked mischief.

NICI STERLING:
Thou art late, sir. The night hath long grown heavy, and yet my bed lies cold as widow’s grief. Didst thou tarry in the arms of lesser maids?

GIGOLO JOE:
Nay, sweetest Venus, no lips but thine could summon me thus with honeyed fire. I am thy slave, bound by chains unseen, yet ne’er would I seek to break them.

NICI STERLING:
A silver tongue dost thou wield, sharper than a rogue’s dagger! But words are breath, and breath is fleeting. Let not thy lips be idle; prove thy mettle with deeds most bold.

GIGOLO JOE:
Wouldst thou have me swear my fealty with mere whispers, or shall I brand thy name upon my skin with the fervor of a thousand kisses?

NICI STERLING:
A thousand? Prithee, let me count them one by one, till dawn itself grows envious of our passion!

GIGOLO JOE:
Then let us make a banquet of this night! I shall feast upon thee as a famished god, and let the heavens tremble with our revelry.

NICI STERLING:
Oh, sweet rogue, thou dost play the devil’s minstrelsy upon my skin. Unlace me, for I burn as Troy beneath the wrath of kings!

GIGOLO JOE:
Then let us be two flames entwined, devouring darkness with our ardor, till naught remains but embers and the scent of sin!

(They embrace, their passion igniting like celestial fire, as the curtains fall upon the night’s wicked revels.)