“Why do you make the tears?” Master Christof asked. “Have we made you sad? Will you empty your stomach now?”

“No, no,” I argued laughing through the tears, “I’m happy. I promise you, Master Christof, sometimes humans cry when we are happy, also. I promise not to get sick.”

I jumped to my feet and grabbed the outfit. “Let me surprise you, Masters. Let me put it on myself and then come out and dance for you.

Please, may 1?” I asked.

They seemed to consider the question for a moment before coming to a consensus.

“Go, Ciara,” Master Damien waved toward the back room, “but we will help you if you need it.”

entered a bedroom and

sat in the middle of the room; we’d be there soon enough. I struggled slightly,

time in months felt odd. I was used to ornamentation that just flowed around me. Even the cover I wore to market was looser. This outfit felt constricting and

sat high and proud on my chest. Wiggling around I pushed the skirt so the edge rode low on my belly. I wanted my Masters to really see the motion of my hips and stomach as

start, I’m ready,” I called,

room with a flourish. I shook and shimmied in a

I gave the men the best show I

outfit and hoped it showed. The coins jingled and danced on my waist adding to the music Master Kein made. The melody flowed and swayed as

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seemed mesmerized by the roll of my hips. His eyes stayed glued

him and danced just

moved out of his reach. His

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