She knew what was supposed to happen, she was just...nervous...which was very strange.

"Frell." Aeryn murmured, low and husky. Now that was just evil. When she wasn't prepared, trying to ease herself into it; evil.

Pure, simple wickedness, but damn did it feel good. So good that she was struggling to get the knife out of the way and muttering about the skirt Plourr was still wearing.