She slurped it down with the deep brown sauce dribbling over her pock-marked chin. It ran all the way down her elbow, staining the red tablecloth with spots of dark brown. It had been so long since she’d tasted something so soft, so succulent. Self-restraint wilted in the face of such good food.
There was a collective gasp from behind her. “Sister!”
She stood up so fast , trying to hide the hard pile behind her wide girth. “No!” she hissed, glaring. “It’s all mine! I won’t let you!”
It was all hers. This soft orange crab- all hers!
His breath was coming out in short, staccato gasps. He was no longer the calm, stately gentleman who paid for wilted rose corsages from the poor girl selling on the street. He was…changed.
No, this had changed him. The feel of smooth flesh under his fingers, the stringy sensation of tousled, wavy locks caught in knots. She was still warm to touch, but he knew that she…no, it was going to cool. And when the coppers found it, he would be far, far away.
He rose from his crouching position and picked up his discarded tweed hat.
“Good night, my lady.”
It was heavy. Sanchez didn’t understand why they had to take THIS of all things. Surely there was something more convenient, more valuable, than this old clunky thing? They lived in an era of modern technology, where jets could zoom overhead melting polar icecaps in the north. This? Was ridiculous.
It was killing his back, this stupid thing. Damn it. Damn it. Why’d he let them talk him into this?
He shifted his weight onto his left foot, feeling his right shoulder ache. This whole thing was ridiculous. A pack of overgrown elves kidnapping a hippo? They must all be mad.
