Orgasm, or Denial?
The hour of the owl finds you once again before the Gate of the Golden apples, amulet in hand. You are admitted.
Months pass. Your nights with the princess are a bliss beyond words, and yet also there are many a night when you beg her to grant you release, but always she puts you off. "Perhaps tomorrow," she says.
And thus each afternoon you awake, harder and more desperate than the day before. But the guild work—mostly resolving disputes between merchants, disputes which mayhaps the guild had a hand in creating, who's to say?—keeps you distracted, and provides you with the means for your lodging as well.
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