Magenta listened to the low tones, smiling to herself. She was going to make this man beg at her feet before the night was over. As the water gurled away, Magenta carefully dried herself with the endlessly soft cotton towel. Her little toenails were shelly pink, her raven locks hung sweetly to her knees. She wrapped herself in the pink and pale green kimino, and lifted her chin slightly.

She stood quietly, listening to a repetitive, rhytmic mantra emitting from the bedchamber. Was this some erotic CD that Vlad had put on? Like a loud purring, like the revving of an old humber super snipe.. Tibetan throat drones?

She walked purposefully into the room, and stood by the enormous bed. Vlad lay, quietly, not moving, his glossy black hair spread on the pillow. She watched his huge muscular arms, his enormous hairy chest, and saw his lips vibrating.

This was no Tibetan throat drone. He was snoring.