Berengar laid against a sofa in his penthouse dressed in only his underwear; the thinly spun hemp fibers that took the form of a pair of boxer briefs left little to the imagination. He was currently sitting atop a cushion, smoking a mixture of hashish and herbal shisha out of his finely crafted hookah.
Sitting across from him was none other than his little sister Henrietta, who had no top on aside from her bra; below the belt, she still wore a skirt, albeit a relatively short one, knee-high socks, and a pair of white lace panties which matched her upper garment.
On her pretty face was an expression that was a mix of embarrassment and intoxication. As Berengar gazed upon his little sister's inappropriate appearance, a brief moment of clarity entered his otherwise stoned mind; immediately, he looked around to see what was going on, as he did not remember how he had entered this strange situation.
