Omniscient yet terribly unreliable, I've a knack for losing my knickers in the most inappropriate places. Oh I suppose it's boredom, really. And envy. These ladies and stableboys keep having quite enjoyable romps while I'm assigned to wander about describing yet another succulent trembling thigh, recording Tad Turner's predictably inelegant grunts.
An overworked and slightly aroused little narrator might amuse herself once in a while, mightn't she?