Handbook of Erotic Fantasy: Old Time’s Sake (Patreon)

They stood in the milling crowd on opposite sides of the room. He in his black iron flecked with gold. She in her black gown, the white-gray of trail dust now creeping about the hem.

There were trays of drinks. Pleasant chatter. Her eyes flicked to the booth that had once been theirs to share. He smiled, and it was full of the reminiscence of malted beverages (among other fluids) shared on that upholstery.

"Do you remember," she said, "When we first met?"

"Who could forget the armchair?" he said. "Do you remember the island?"

"Who could forget the giant ape?"

They drank their drinks. They thought of plot threads long-lost, and whether the armchair or the ape had ever found one another off-screen.

"I heard about Patches," she said. "I'm so sorry."

"I might say the same for you and Paladin. I heard that he quit the campaign."

Long memories passed between them. Then small white cards with names and professions and alignment.

"Oh!" she said. "Is it it true? Lawful Good now?"

"And you! True Neutral?" he laughed in delight. "You really ought to get a proper costume change. I am not certain black suits you any longer"

She arched one white eyebrow. "What did you have in mind?" she said. And there was something more than wardrobe hanging about the words.

"Oh, I don't know," and his grin grew wider. "If I was your tailor, I would go with a less is more approach."

She leaned close. Her eyes were full of good (or at least neutral) mischief. Hey voice was a throaty purr: "How much less?" she said.

Barmaid rolled her eyes then. She went to fetch her bottle of Upholstery & Multi-Fabric Spot and Stain Remover from behind the bar.