I have this piece of work. And I have some questions.

First: What is it?
Besides being pure farce, I'm not quite sure ... but I like it. I think of it as a warped adult fairy tale. Adult, as in, there is sex involved, but all in fun and tastefully done, I believe. Warped, as in, it's just slightly out of phase with reality. Yes, I know most, if not all, fairy tales are not in phase with reality but more so with mythology. But this story is even slightly out of phase with the average fairy tale, and not in the direction that would take it back to the world of the normal. So...

Second: What can I do with it?
It's long, for a short story. And it's short, for a novel. It might be a novella. But what the hell is that anyway except something that's too long for a short story and too short for a novel. I hear the word 'novella' and the speaker may as well have said 'Lalalalala' for all that conveys. It helps me not a bit. At 24,135 words (roughly 80 pages), I don't know what to do with it.
The story is set in one place, over a short period of time, with a cast of characters that move in and out of the scenes, and it is mostly dialogue ... mostly ... so I have thought of converting it to a stage play. I've never done a stage play; might be an interesting challenge. Which brings me back to my questions...

Third: Is this something that would be worth the time and effort involved in converting it to a stage play?
While writing it I saw it performed in my mind's eye. That's the way I write everything. I'm very visually cued. But then, in hearing my characters deliver their lines I strive for a smooth, natural conversational flow which I can transfer to the written page, so I suppose I'm also aurally cued to them. But I'm certain the performance I saw in my head isn't what another reader will experience, not exactly. The scenes may not flow one into another. The dialogue may not work to the desired effect. So what to do...

Here is what I'm going to do. I intend to present the first quarter (approximately) of the story, stopping a what seems a natural break in the action. And anyone who wishes, PLEASE give me any feedback you want, on any of the above questions you want, or on any other aspect you choose.

This piece of work sprang from a Facebook exchange I had with a niece who told of how her four-year-old little girl had picked up one of her story books, opened it, and pretended to read herself a story. Instead of beginning with the traditional 'Once upon a time...', this child began her story with 'One at a time, there was a big princess...'
I told my niece that HAD to be the first line of my next story. My plan was to write a cute little fairy tale she could read to her daughter and one day tell her she was its inspiration. But somehow, working with that strange first line, the story that came to me was something quite different. Let's just say my niece's daughter will have to wait a few years to hear it, or even read it for herself. Let's say several years.
Anyway, as I promised, I began the story with those nine words, even though I had to break them up between the first line and the first five words of the second line. It's intentionally wordy, overwritten, and laced with adverbs. And tell me, when was the last time you read a fairy tale with footnotes?

So without further ado, here is 'Part One' of...


One At A Time

"One at a time!”

There was a big princess who once had to shout thus because, having become impatient from being so very hungry, she forgot to name a particular serving boy when she called for some food to be brought to her. The big princess’s name was Hortense, by the way, a name which led to some rather unkind jokes at her expense by the randier castle guards. But the big princess no longer lived in the Castle. Instead, she lived in a wattle and daub hovel (1) that looked a bit like a big brown doghouse.


(1 - Wattle and daub is a construction method that involves building a framework of interlaced twigs or thin split branches (the wattle) which is then daubed with clay (or excrement) and horsehair to form a surprisingly effective wall. A hovel is a small, squalid, unpleasant, or simply constructed dwelling.
Big Princess Hortense’s big wattle and daub hovel was waterproofed by coating the exterior with bacon grease.)


When the big princess Hortense did live in the Castle, the Lord Treasurer took it upon himself one particularly dark day to voice the opinion that she was depleting the Kingdom’s treasury with her appetite. Curiously, it was around the time the big princess first overheard some of those randy, castle-guard jokes that she began to eat so much. Considering her lineage, Big Princess Hortense would most assuredly have been big no matter what. But what measure of her eventual bigness was due to some sort of reaction to overhearing those unkind jokes is certainly a matter quite worthy of speculation.

However, for all her eating, the big princess was not fat. She was BIG. As in tall, large boned, stout, thick of frame, muscular … for a girl, broad shouldered, and she had a wart on her right cheek with exactly three black hairs growing from it. That last bit of information may seem out of place when describing the big princess Hortense’s bigness, but as warts go, her’s was also big.

Since Big Princess Hortense’s eating habits could not be restricted at the Castle where she was able to order the kitchen staff about--and with the survival of the Kingdom’s treasury in mind--sadly, forlornly, and with no malice of forethought, the King and Queen removed the big princess from the Castle, and installed her in the wattle and daub hovel in the forest. There she was provided with carefully measured--though still quite generous as befitted a princess--gastronomic staples for her sustenance.

Big Princess Hortense was not a child when she went to live in the wattle and daub hovel in the forest. She was a maiden of nineteen, to be exact, and the big princess really did like to be exact. And she was not sent away from the Castle alone--that would not do at all for a princess. She was sent to live in the wattle and daub hovel attended by two ladies-in-waiting and two serving boys, all of whom were quite unknown to her.

Their names were Annabeth and Sarabeth--those sisters being the ladies-in-waiting, of course--and Egbert and Rupert. If you guessed they were the serving boys, you guessed right, but I’ll wager you didn’t know they were not boys at all, but were in fact fully grown young men. The ladies-in-waiting did general lady-in-waiting stuff. With a nod to her regard for exactness, the big princess Hortense gave each serving boy an exact duty.

Rupert was responsible for breakfast, and when summoned by the big princess, would promptly deliver to her a platter loaded with scrumptious breakfast goodies such as biscuits, gravy, eggs, hash browns, and of course, bacon. ‘Don’t forget the bacon,’ the big princess so often sternly warned that whenever she called, ‘Rupert!’ he would mumble ‘Better bring the bacon,’ over and over again so as not to forget what was best not forgotten.

Egbert was responsible for dinner, and when summoned by the big princess Hortense, would hurry to her carrying a platter heaped high with succulent dinner items such as mashed potatoes, peas, asparagus and corn on the cob, all served as side dishes to goat. You guessed it: the goat was so important not to forget that Egbert, when summoned, would go about piling the succulent dinner items onto the platter mumbling, ‘Gotta get the goat.’ (2)


(2 - You’re probably wondering about Big Princess Hortense’s lunches and her evening snacks. Those were taken care of by her ladies-in-waiting, Annabeth and Sarabeth, during which time they were forced to temporarily forego their afternoon and evening licentious shenanigans with Egbert and Rupert respectively.)


The big princess’s daily routine was exact, and in fact it was from that very exactness that the trouble sprang on that fateful Spring day when, feeling hungry--to be exact, so very hungry--Big Princess Hortense forgot to be exact and simply called, “Serving boy!”

Not hearing a specific name called, and it being neither time for breakfast nor dinner--nor lunch, nor evening snack, for that matter--both Egbert and Rupert were confused as to who should go and what that person should heap upon the platter to be taken. Besides, Annabeth and Sarabeth had them each otherwise occupied in their respective beds in their respective small, wattle and daub hovels, and were in the process of doing certain very unrespectable things to the two of them which all four of them quite liked. Neither Egbert nor Rupert had the slightest desire to take anything to the big princess ... at least for the next hour. But the big princess refused to be ignored much less denied. Besides, she was so very hungry.

“SERVING BOY!” Big princess Hortense shouted again, so loudly it shook some of the daub loose from her hovel’s wattle.

“Bloody hell!” said Egbert from beneath a panting Annabeth in his small, wattle and daub hovel. “I suppose you’d better untie me. What with all that shouting and wattle wrecking going on, I simply won’t be able to concentrate on any of those delightful, unrespectable things you’re doing.” When Annabeth pulled a pouty face, he added, “When I get back, we can pick up where we left off, okay?”

“Alrighty.” She hopped off him, straightened her skirts, and untied him from the bed. “Hurry back,” she called as he hurried from his hovel.

In the meantime much the same scene, minus the ropes, had played out between Rupert and Sarabeth in his small, wattle and daub hovel so that while scurrying to the kitchen he and Egbert nearly ran into each other. Rupert was still trying to pull up and secure his trousers, and that bit of fumbling allowed Egbert to avoid him.

“Missed a belt loop there.” Egbert pointed, trying to be helpful.

Not wanting to leave anything to chance as to Big Princess Hortense’s current culinary predilections, Egbert and Rupert soon had two platters heaped high with various foodstuffs, and ran with those toward the big princess’s big wattle and daub hovel. Arriving together, they tried to enter at precisely the same instant, and as a result, became stuck side-by-side in the doorway as tight as a cork in a bottle. That’s when the big princess, sitting in her usual place upon a rough bentwood chair behind a rather crude plank table, shouted, “One at a time!”

“Beg pardon, Majesty,” Rupert managed to squeak, pressed so closely against Egbert he could hardly breathe. Egbert couldn’t speak at all. In fact, he couldn’t breathe at all. Mouth gaping, Egbert was turning quite blue.

“May I be of service?” a voice said from outside behind the serving-boy-plug.

“Who is that?” the big princess asked.

“Mmmph,” Egbert said, gulping a tiny bit of much-needed air.

“Yes, Mr. Mumph, you may indeed be of service,” Big Princess Hortense said to the owner of the voice from outside. “Yank these two buffoons out of my doorway, if you please.”

“Jim,” the voice said.

“What was that?” The big princess frowned. She was not used to being made to wait for her food to be served. And she certainly did not intend to wait for her serving boys to be yanked out of her doorway.

“Name’s Jim,” the owner of the voice said, sounding quite calm considering there was a serving boy--Egbert, to be exact--being crushed to death before his very eyes.

“Whatever,” said Big Princess Hortense. “I shall call you Stranger.”

“Suit yourself,” said the voice named Jim.

“Very well, Stranger, would you give a good yank there on that rather bluish serving boy, and right away.” Being so very hungry, the big princess was getting a bit peckish. Though truth be told, she was never really sure what she was hungry for. Food just seemed to be the easiest answer.

“Here goes,” said the voice named Jim.

The serving-boy-plug flew backward out of the doorway as if sucked by a powerful vacuum (3).


(3 -  One definition of the word ‘vacuum’, which stems from the Latin adjective ‘vacuus’ for ‘empty’, is the gap left by the loss, death, or departure of someone or something significant: i.e., the political vacuum left by the death of an Emperor.
Believing herself the only personage of significance in the immediate environs, Big Princess Hortense, seeing her serving boys thus pulled, possibly sucked, from her doorway in the stranger’s direction, assumed the stranger could not possibly be significant.)


“That’s more like it,” the big princess said. “Now Egbert, if you will, be so good as to bring in my platter of figs.” She smiled expectantly, quite believing she had specified figs when she called out for some food to be brought.

“Figs, Majesty?” Egbert choked out as if a fig were in fact stuck in his throat. He was only now beginning to get his breath back. Both he and Rupert were lying in a food encrusted and slathered heap just outside the big wattle and daub hovel, their platters having turned every which way when they were yanked from the doorway. Being a bit of an oversight on each of their parts as they went about preparing their respective platters, one food item with which they were neither encrusted nor slathered was figs.

A rather big stranger stepped into Big Princess Hortense’s big wattle and daub hovel’s doorway and said, “Might I make a suggestion?”

“Who are you?” The big princess narrowed her eyes. She was not accustomed to receiving guests, especially male guests who approached her rather than running away.

“Name’s Jim,” said the stranger.

“Whatever,” the big princess said. “I’m a bit confused here. What do you have to do with my figs?” She was still hungry, though not quite so very hungry as a minute before. “Oh, and I’m still going to call you Stranger.”

“Suit yourself,” Jim said. “I could go and fetch some figs for you, if you want. Though I must say, it seems quite a silly way to conduct an employment interview.”

    “Employment interview?” The big princess arched her eyebrows which, as eyebrows go, were also big. “Why would I hire you when I have two perfectly good serving boys at my disposal?”

Just then, Egbert and Rupert pushed past Jim into the big wattle and daub hovel and groveled before Big Princess Hortense, each dripping various foodstuffs onto the rush covered floor.

“Just a thought,” Jim said. “But you might want to let them clean up a bit before once again being at your disposal.”

“Majesty,” the big princess said.

“What?” Jim answered.

“I do so like to be referred to as Majesty,” the big princess Hortense said all pouty.

“Whatever,” Jim said. “But your serving boys are rather a mess right now. Perhaps a bath—”

“We could clean them up,” said Sarabeth who had stepped into the big wattle and daub hovel’s doorway behind Jim. Her voice was all smokey and throaty, as if she were speaking from inside a smokehouse (4) hung with sides of curing bacon ... and also filled with smoke, of course.
 

(4 - The average outside dimensions of the typical smokehouse are about 2 feet wide, 4 feet deep and 8 feet tall. This will smoke the bacons and jowls from five hogs. Though the term bacon on its own typically refers to bacon from the pork belly, a leaner cut called back bacon is generally preferred.
Big Princess Hortense really had no preference in her choice of bacon. The use of its byproduct--excess grease--to coat the exterior of her big wattle and daub hovel did often have an interesting effect on travelers who happened to venture nearby on hot summer days.)


Standing in the doorway beside Sarabeth, Annabeth’s eyes were very bright as she twisted a length of red satin rope in her hands.

“Yes, could they help clean us up?” Egbert said rather too quickly. He was breathing much better if perhaps a bit fast as he cast glances at Annabeth and her rope.

“The poor dears,” Big Princess Hortense said. “I hate to give them anything else to do. They always seem so tired as it is. I worry they don’t get enough sleep.”

“I wonder if they ever sleep,” whispered Rupert. Egbert giggled.

“But you two are rather disgusting at the moment, what with all your food drippings and such,” said the big princess to her serving boys. “I suppose my ladies-in-waiting could help you out just this once, perhaps by doing your laundry. Don’t you go and work them too hard, now.”

“Alrighty,” Rupert and Egbert said simultaneously. They hurried out the door with Sarabeth and Annabeth in tow.

“Now, about those figs...” Big Princess Hortense paused, examining Jim somewhat clinically. “Did you know you’re rather big?”

“Yes, thank’s for noticing.” Jim smiled. “What of it?”

“Oh nothing,” said the big princess. “Merely an observation. Now as to those figs, how soon can you fetch me some?”

“In a jiffy, I expect,” Jim said. “I know where they’re kept--had a good look at your larder before all the fuss over here at your big wattle and daub hovel snared my interest. Once I’ve fetched them, will the employment interview be over?”

    “What silliness,” the big princess Hortense said. “Why do you think this is an employment interview?”

“You mean it’s not? When I heard someone shout ‘One at a time!’ I assumed there was a line of job applicants here you meant to interview individually. Being currently without a proper position, and not wanting to pass up a bird in the bush, I sauntered over.” Jim pulled a bit of a hang-dog look. “Sorry about the mistake. Guess I’ll be on my way.” He turned to go.

“Just one moment, Stranger!” Big Princess Hortense snapped.

“Jim,” Jim said.

“Oh, whatever.” The way the three black hairs growing from the wart on her right cheek twitched, it was quite obvious the big princess was becoming frustrated. “What about my figs?”

“Since I’m not to be employed here,” Jim said, “quite frankly, I don’t give a fig.”

“Now hold on.” Though not so very hungry as she was a few minutes before, the big princess Hortense was still hungry for something. And having talked about them for some time now, she was certain figs would fill the bill quite nicely. But with Rupert and Egbert otherwise occupied at the moment--as were Annabeth and Sarabeth, what with all that getting wet and rubbing and scrubbing and such--who would fetch them?

“Perhaps I was a bit hasty,” Big Princess Hortense continued. “Those two serving boys of mine do generally seem as tired as my ladies-in-waiting generally are. It would be nice to give them a day off now and then to rest up. Tell you what, Stranger, fetch me a platter of figs, and we’ll talk about it.” Big Princess Hortense gazed at him expectantly.

“Name’s Jim,” Jim said.

“Whatever,” said the big princess. “Fetch my figs in a jiffy, and the job’s yours.”

“Alrighty,” Jim said, and sauntered out the door.

Big Princess Hortense admired that backside perspective of Jim as he was leaving, though she couldn’t have said why. After all, it wasn’t as if he were a haunch of well-cooked goat with a side of plum sauce for dipping. But then, he was rather big.

“Here you go,” Jim said when he returned shortly with not a platter, but a plate of figs. And the figs weren’t even heaped upon the plate, but simply covered the surface in a single-layer pattern that rather resembled a spiral galaxy.

Noticing neither the lack of heaping nor the artistic presentation, and while popping a fig into her mouth, the big princess said, “Would you like to kiss me?”

“Not particularly,” Jim said.

“Suit yourself,” said Big Princess Hortense.

“Might I ask why you ask such a thing?” Jim asked.

“Oh, it’s customary, is all,” the big princess said. “You see, there’s a prophesy (5) about me being kissed, and some magical something or other that might just happen if I am kissed … by the right man, of course. Are you a right man, Stranger?”


(5 - In ‘The Magician's Companion’, Whitcomb observes, “The accuracy or outcome of any prophecy is altered by the desires and attachments of the seer and those who hear the prophecy.”
Seeing as how it had been some time since Big Princess Hortense had been kissed in any sort of way by a man--the last such occurrence having been most chaste, coming as it did from her father, the King--she might deserve to be excused if her desire for some sort of attachment had, unbeknownst to her, become quite prophetically profound.)


“Name’s Jim,” Jim said. “And I have been right about a thing or two in my life. But I’m sure I can’t say if I’m the right sort to accomplish anything magical by kissing you. I am curious, though, as to how this kissing custom came about?”

“We shall have to do something about all this name confusion,” the big princess Hortense said. “But for now, let me explain about the kissing. It involves a hag and some bacon grease.” She popped another fig into her mouth and continued. “It all began a year ago when my mother, the Queen, was escorting me here to this wattle and daub hovel in the forest. As you can well imagine, distraught as we both were over me being banished from the Castle and all, we were both rather preoccupied.”

“Banished, were you? Rather bad luck, I’d say,” Jim said.

“Oh, I suppose it was my fault,” said the big princess, remembering the Lord Treasurer’s accusations concerning her appetite’s effect on the Kingdom’s finances.

“Well, there you go,” Jim said. “They say acceptance is the first step to recovery.”

“Whatever,” said Big Princess Hortense. “But back to my story. Preoccupied as Mother and I were, we nearly ran down a hag with our carriage. Mother was driving and felt terrible about it, although I think she made much too much of the matter. The hag wasn’t really hurt, merely muddied up a bit. Mother gave her some baubles for her trouble, and the hag gave us a prophesy.” The big princess paused then blurted, “Are you sure you don’t want to kiss me?”

“Quite,” Jim said.

“Suit yourself,” said the big princess Hortense. “Anyway, the prophesy went something like this. ‘Cursed she is, and cursed shall be, ‘til a stranger’s kiss sets her free.’ Or some such. Mother gave me the quote later. I was eating some bacon at the time, and not really paying attention.”

“Would you like me to fetch some bacon?” Jim said.

“What? No, Stranger, these figs will suffice.” The big princess popped another into her mouth.

“Name’s Jim,” Jim said.

“Wha’e’er,” the big princess said while chewing. She swallowed rather noisily and continued. “Let’s see … where was I?”

“Eating bacon, I believe,” Jim said.

“Ah yes, of course, the bacon. It was rather yummy.” With a far off, dreamy look, Big Princess Hortense plucked another fig from the plate, and nibbled it around the edges. “To continue, in case you haven’t noticed, my big wattle and daub hovel uses a coating of bacon grease as a moisture barrier. As you can well imagine, in the hot summer months that grease fairly sizzles under the brutal sun producing a rather amazing aroma. As a result, quite often and out of nowhere, one or more chaps will stumble out of the forest and ask if breakfast is being served.
I always tell them no, of course, after all we’re not operating a common public house here. But with the possibility that muddied-up old hag may have been on to something, I always ask if one or another of them might want to kiss me. Some politely decline. Most just run away. In fact, they all leave fairly quickly, stumbling back into the forest once it’s apparent we really aren’t serving breakfast. Still, whenever the opportunity has presented itself, I’ve tried. One never knows, does one, Stranger?”

“Jim,” Jim said.

“Whatever,” said the big princess. “I intend to keep calling you Stranger.”

“Suit yourself,” Jim said.

“By the way, you did a bang-up job fetching these figs. Was your position previous to coming here also as a serving boy?” The big princess Hortense put down the latest fig she’d picked up without even giving it a nibble, and instead only licked its juice from her fingers. She was just beginning to experience the rather unfamiliar sensation of, if not actually being full, at the very least, being not quite so empty.

“As a matter of fact,” Jim said. “Until rather recently, I was a prince.”

“Well, this is awkward.” Big Princess Hortense’s eyes, which were big to begin with, got even bigger. “Can one legally employ a prince?”

“Oh, don’t give it another thought,” Jim said. “I’m not one anymore--walked away from all that princely stuff weeks ago. Got tired of lying about the castle whilst shouting orders to the servants such as ‘Boy, fetch my falcon. I intend to have it kill something!’ or ‘You there, have you found my jodhpurs (6) yet?’”


(6 - Jodhpurs are long pants snug from the calf to the ankle, with the thighs and hips flared; a design that originates from an ancient style of trouser associated with the ruling class in the Indian state of Rajasthan.
Jim was indeed wearing jodhpurs when he arrived at Big Princess Hortense’s big wattle and daub hovel in the forest, a style which may have exaggerated his overall bigness. However, it’s doubtful they were his jodhpurs as he had obtained them from his sister Jane’s closet. He simply stole them wanting something in his possession by which to remember his beloved sister while he was out in the world.)


“I came to feel so useless,” Jim continued. “Besides, it was utterly boring. I just chucked the whole lot, and set out to make my life on my own terms. And look, I’ve already secured a fine position as a serving boy. Sky’s the limit, I say!”

“You walked away from it? How completely silly,” said Big Princess Hortense. After all, she most assuredly had not simply walked away from her family’s Castle, but was in fact escorted off the grounds by a pair of the randier castle guards who insisted on whispering some last-second, unkind jokes at her expense. They shut up tight as a serving-boy-plug when her mother, the Queen, arrived with the royal carriage to drive the big princess to her new home in the big wattle and daub hovel in the forest. Remembering how her mother’s presence had quieted the randy guards, Big Princess Hortense added, “I quite like being a princess.”

“Suit yourself,” Jim said.

“Whatever.” The big princess was growing a bit piqued at Jim’s royal bashing, seeing it as possibly treasonous. But having no quick rejoinder to his observations, she decided to end the conversation then and there. “You may clear this away, Stranger.” She indicated the plate that still held quite a few figs, a thing that would have astonished both Rupert and Egbert.

“Name’s Jim,” Jim said.

“Whatever,” the big princess said. “Take the rest of the day to build your own wattle and daub hovel--a small one, of course--and be prepared to assume your duties tomorrow.”

As Jim gathered up the fig plate and exited the big wattle and daub hovel, again, and for a reason she couldn’t quite put her finger on, Big Princess Hortense admired that backside perspective of him. After all, he was rather big, even accounting for the exaggerating effect produced by wearing those jodhpurs. But the measure of pleasure she took in admiring Jim from that perspective was somewhat diminished due to a sense of unease as to what she might do with the remainder of her day. For you see, the big princess Hortense had never before seriously contemplated boredom.

Could it be, the big princess wondered. That being a princess was not all it was cracked up to be? “Oh, whatever!” she said in a royal huff.

Meanwhile, Jim had just deposited the fig plate in the kitchen when he thought he heard someone calling his name.

“Oh, that’s jim … Jim! … JIM DANDY!” called an excited voice from inside the nearest small wattle and daub hovel.

Jim poked his rather big head in the door, and was quite surprised to see a naked Sarabeth on the bed straddling an equally naked Rupert who was no longer dripping various foodstuffs, but was in fact quite clean except for a glistening sheen of sweat.

“Lord love a duck, Rupert!” Sarabeth said in her smokey, throaty voice. “That was ever so grand.”

“Indeed,” said Rupert breathlessly.

“Excuse me,” Jim said.

“Oh!” Sarabeth grabbed up a blanket, and covered herself as best she could considering the way she straddled Rupert prevented her from pulling her bare legs under. She blushed rather prettily and looked away.

“Am I intruding?” Jim asked.

“Not at all,” said Rupert from beneath Sarabeth. “I believe we’re quite finished for the moment. Can I help you with something?”

“Possibly.” Jim avoided staring at Sarabeth’s bare legs as she seemed so embarrassed, the poor modest dear. “It seems I’m to be the new serving boy hereabouts, and was wondering if I might get some help building myself a wattle and daub hovel ... small, of course.”

“There’s no need for that.” Adjusting his position beneath Sarabeth, Rupert squirmed a bit, eliciting another “Oh,” from her, but rather than being all smokey and throaty, this ‘Oh,’ was more soft and breathy. “You can use that medium-sized wattle and daub hovel on the other side of the kitchen,” Rupert continued. “It belongs to Sarabeth and Annabeth, but I’m sure they won’t mind--neither of them have slept there in months. It’s probably all spiderwebby by now, but evict the arachnids, give it a good dusting, and you should find it quite comfortable.”

“Thank you, that’s awfully convenient,” Jim said. “Well, you two carry on.”

“Oh, we do,” Sarabeth said all smokey and throaty again. As Jim withdrew his big head from the doorway, she commenced a rather slow grind against Rupert, who couldn’t help but smile.

(To Be Continued)