Jyck had not always troubled to do that. There was a look the girls got in their eyes sometimes when they first beheld the lordling they'd been hired to pleasure... a look that Tyrion Lannister did not ever care to see again.
He lifted the candle and looked her over. Bronn had done well enough; she was doe-eyed and slim, with small firm breasts and a smile that was by turns shy, insolent, and wicked. He liked that. "Shall I take my gown off, m'lord?" she asked.
In good time. Are you a maiden, Shae?
If it please you, m'lord, she said demurely.
What would please me would be the truth of you, girl.
Aye, but that will cost you double.
Tyrion decided they would get along splendidly. "I am a Lannister. Gold I have in plenty, and you'll find me generous ... but I'll want more from you than what you've got between your legs, though I'll want that too. You'll share my tent, pour my wine, laugh at my jests, rub the ache from my legs after each day's ride... and whether I keep you a day or a year, for so long as we are together you will take no other men into your bed."
Fair enough. She reached down to the hem of her thin roughspun gown and pulled it up over her head in one smooth motion, tossing it aside. There was nothing underneath but Shae. "If he don't put down that candle, m'lord will burn his fingers."