Free Rough and Ready by Sandra Hill

women asked, believing that Rakel must know some secrets in the bedsport.
    "Seduction," Rakel said bluntly.
    The unskilled women looked at each other with dismay.
    "I never knew how to flirt," Britta said, "and do not wish to learn now." In Hilda's opinion, Britta did not need to learn. The pretty man followed her around like a newborn pup. But then, Britta was among those who had decided not to have children.
    "I have been too long away from society to remember how to flirt," Inge remarked. "Exactly how does one seduce a man?"
    "There are ways," Rakel said with confidence.
    Oh, my gods and goddesses!
    "There are ways to dress that would entice a man." Rakel ripped her gown at the neck, parting the material so the tops of her generous breasts were exposed.
    The women listened to her intently, no doubt planning to alter their apparel once they left the Thing.
    Hilda looked down at her almost flat chest and grimaced. She would never be able to entice a man.
    "And you should walk a certain way to entice a man." Rakel demonstrated by arching her shoulders back and swishing her hips from side to side as she strutted across the clearing.
    Hilda put a hand to her mouth to stifle a giggle. The men would think all her women had gone barmy if they walked thus.
    "Bend over in front of them betimes. Some men like a shapely arse." Rakel bent over at the waist and aimed her backside at the group.
    Never, ever would Hilda do that. Not purposely.
    "Bat your eyelashes, like this. And give them sultry glances with your lids half-shuttered."
    How absurd! Half of them are looking cross-eyed.
    "Most of all, there is the art of good bedsport. How many of you have tried tongue kissing?"

Chapter 6
    Where was Juan Valdez when you needed him?…
    "Can y'all believe it? There isn't a drop of coffee in this whole damn place,"
    Cage griped early that morning. "Honest to God, a Cajun cannot live without his chicory fix."
    Little do you know, my friend. There is a whole lot more missing than meets the eye.
    "My back is killing me. Men were not designed to sleep on hard wood benches."
    It
    was Pretty Boy complaining now.
    "Did any of you notice that there isn't one single book here, not even a Bible?"
    That was JAM, of course.
    Stop complaining. You have that miniature Bible that you always carry in your back pocket.
    "And the head is outside. Shiiit! I do not like freezing my ass when I take a whizz. But you know, something isn't quite right here." Geek was studying the interior of the great hall where they were sitting like it was a specimen under glass.
    Wait till he goes into computer shock. I can't imagine our resident genius laptop-deprived.
    "I kind of like it here," Pretty Boy said.
    They all snickered at that remark.
    "Forget conveniences. I told Britta that she doesn't need to use a shredded twig for a toothbrush. Everyone knows that kissing keeps the teeth white and healthy.
    Yep, tonsil hockey encourages saliva to wash food from the teeth. It even lowers the level of acid that causes teeth to decay and get plaque."
    "Fuckin A!" Cage saluted Pretty Boy. "Here's to saliva!"
    "Unbelievable," JAM commented. "Where do you come up with this shit?"
    "What did Britta say to that baloney?" Geek wanted to know.
    "Oh, well, she told me to go kiss the backside of a sheep."
    Pretty Boy joked a lot about Big Mama, but Torolf saw something more. He'd fallen hard for her. In fact, they could be in a cave, and Pretty Boy wouldn't object, as long as his personal Amazon was there.
    They sat down on two sides of a long table, at the far end of the hall, waiting for breakfast. A huge fire blazed in the hearth, providing welcoming heat on this cool autumn day and some light. Even in daytime, the hall was dark and dreary.
    If they're expecting hotcakes, ham, eggs, and buttered toast, they are sure gonna be surprised. More like unsweetened gruel, except maybe for honey, and dry manchet bread, if they're lucky.
    "Let's cut the crap here, chèr," Cage said, patting him