Though her trip through the Labyrinth helped Sarah grow up big time, there was still something gross about adults. Having turned eighteen, her Dad offered to hire a new babysitter and take her to the Christmas Eve party at work. She was old enough, and his bosses were eager to meet Robert's other child. Other implying that not only did he always mention Toby first, but that they'd already met him. Yeah, it hurt that Sarah, his oldest, was always referred to as his second child. That didn't even make sense. But she'd gotten used to it. She was the reminder of his first love, of the woman who made a fool of him with dozens of younger men.
No thanks, she said. There was no way she'd mope about while a bunch of middle-aged lawyers got drunk and butchered Christmas carols during the annual karaoke contest. Especially considering that the one man she'd met from Robert's work leered at her all the time, like she was easy pickings. One time he even winked at her. Gross! No, she'd babysit Toby, maybe drink some hot chocolate and celebrate the end of the school year. She'd just finished her first semester at college and was exhausted. All she wanted to do was watch The Nutcracker, starring the fabulously beautiful Patricia Barker and her handsome cavalier Wade Walthall
Then the Kenning's babysitter bailed, and that put the kibosh on her plans. Matthew Kennings worked at Robert's firm, and they were pretty close. They played golf on the weekends and saw baseball games in the summer. Matthew's wife, Julie, and Irene were friends as well. Irene liked Julie so much that she joined Julie's knitting club, even though she couldn't knit worth a damn. Most nights they ended up drinking as opposed to knitting, so anything they made was unrecognizable as anything meant for humans.
It took only one teary phone call from Julie to have Irene and Robert up in arms. Since she was staying home anyways, surely she could watch their dear friend's children. Leland was fourteen, and Faun was eight, so they were old enough to listen and obey her. They'd most likely chill in their rooms until dinner and then go to bed. Toby was the only one she'd really have to fuss with, and he was an angel.
As if she could say no. If she did, she'd never hear the end of it. How dare she freeze out their dear friends, Irene would bitch. Plus, Mrs. Kenning's offered her one-hundred bucks to do it, and money was extremely nice for a girl who barely made minimum wage working as a librarian. Most babysitters made right around five dollars an hour, but the Kennings were rich, dumb and desperate, and really mad at their oldest daughter, Jeanine, who was the reason they hired a babysitter to begin with.
"We'll be around to pick you up sometime after midnight," Robert said from the front seat as he carefully navigated the snow covered streets of Oakwood Glen, the super wealthy neighborhood where the Kennings lived. Sarah could barely nod she was bundled up so tightly – the BMW took forever to heat up, and they lived only ten minutes away.
"Maybe later," Irene snapped quickly as she adjusted her pearled bracelet. "I don't want you driving fast on the highways, not with all that black ice."
Sarah wanted to point out that if there was black ice, they shouldn't be driving at all, but whatever. Dad was up for promotion and sort of required to be there. They pulled up to the Kenning's house, a gorgeous brick mansion with Corinthian columns. There was so much snow and Christmas decorations that it looked like a gingerbread house.
Julie Kennings was standing outside, looking like a million bucks in her ermine coat. It probably cost that much, if the way Irene adjusted her mink stole was anything to go by. She walked down the front steps, waving the car over with a big smile as she said something, which they obviously couldn't hear through the windows. When the car pulled up, she darted over and bounced eagerly on her high heels.
"Hello Sarah," she immediately called out as soon as the family was out of the car. "I'm so happy you could come. I do wish you were going to the party though."
Sarah was slightly confused as to why she was addressed first, but then she saw Jeanine standing under the awning by the front door. She was beautiful, as usual, her perfectly feathered blonde hair and vivid makeup. Whatever night she had planned was clearly very posh, what with her strapless, bubble-skirted cocktail gown and lacy gloves.
"Hey Sarah," she sneered as she put her hands on her hips. "Hope you can handle the brats. They've got so much sugar in them they're practically marshmallows."
Jeanine angled herself so that the dress was perfectly displayed. The blue and white silk went really well with her silver pumps. Jeanine was just so trendy. She had more money than sense and kept up with every fad. Sarah disliked most of the current fashion trends, but to keep from looking like she was stuck in the sixties, she got bangs and stopped straightening her hair. While it gave her some volume, all of it was natural and none of it frizzy. But that was about as busy as she got.
Okay, that was a lie. She had one accessory – feathered roach clips. Tonight she had peacock feathers. But other than that, her hair was clean, healthy and soft, with no bizarre layers or closer-to-God bangs.
And it drove Jeanine crazy, since most boys like hair that wasn't a fire hazard because of massive amounts of Aqua Net. Including Jeanine's scumbag boyfriend.
"Hi Jeanine," Sarah said dryly as she walked up the steps. Behind her, Julie and Irene talked and laughed as they tugged a very fussy Toby out of the sedan. "Still between sugar daddies? Or have you finally started shopping for a new last name?"
"At least I have a boyfriend," Jeanine hissed as Sarah passed her. "When was the last time you went on a date?"
"Last night," Sarah quipped. "Unfortunately, football players aren't my thing. Chad had nothing really smart to say. He kept talking about grass and padding."
Chad was Jeanine's ex-boyfriend, the one who took a shine to Sarah. And while Sarah hadn't gone on a date with him the night before, mentioning it alone would shut Jeanine up. Which it did. Mission accomplished.
"Good evening Sarah," a booming voice greeted as the front door swung open, missing her nose by mere inches. Light spilled from the foyer, surrounding Mr. Kennings like a halo. He probably was handsome fifteen years ago, but he'd lost the battle to donuts and grey hair. He still had all of it, but everything from his brows to his beard was solidly white. Sarah was sure that he was older than Julie by at least twenty years, since Julie was Irene's age and Matthew was old enough to be Robert's dad.
"Hi Mr. Kennings," she tried to say with some vigor, but it fell flat. She let him take her coat as she passed and started unraveling her scarf as she looked around. Everything about the Kennings home was clean and white. White carpet, white flowered wallpaper, white leather couches, just white. It wasn't a guiding principle of design, it was a blank canvas waiting to happen. To keep that from being true, no colored food was ever served outside of the kitchen.
"Faun and Andy are upstairs, but they'll come down for dinner. We have sushi, sashimi and seaweed salad in the fridge," he offered as he took her mittens so she could take off her snow boots. Sitting down on a bench, Sarah winced as she worked the tightness out of her laces. Only the Kennings would think sushi made for a delicious Christmas dinner.
"Thank you Mr. Kennings. Shouldn't you guys be heading out?" she asked as she pulled her clogs out of her overnight bag. Hopefully she wouldn't have to spend the night, but if she did, the last thing she wanted was to be without some pajamas of her own. Nice as the money was, there was one huge detractor from spending a night in a mansion. It wasn't the raw fish, or the fact that she'd only be drinking water in the living room.
"Oh, hey Sarah! I didn't know you were coming. This is great."
It was Leland.
"Hi Andy." Crap, he wasn't upstairs. This night kept getting better and better. Jeanine, her parental units and Julie came in, with a really upset Toby. He may have been four, but he still whined like a baby when he was unhappy. None of that mattered, because Leland was there, and he was totally in love with her.
Slipping into her clogs, she got off the bench and faced the music. Leland, or Andy was staring at her with this goofy look on his face. He was everything that was awkward about adolescence. He was skinny and tall as a stalk of corn, and he was trying to grow a beard, but he could only manage thin splotches of mousey brown hair on an already weak chin.
"Wow Sarah, you look great," he marveled as she stood up. She gave him this odd, twisted grin. Great wasn't the word she'd used to describe herself. Above all, she wanted to be comfortable, so she went with black stirrup pants and a ribbed batwing royal purple sweater. It made her eyes look like emeralds, but hid most of the evidence that she was a woman, save for her boobs, which were pushing double-D's. They'd grown a lot since she'd gone through the Labyrinth, and were probably the reason men kept trying to tip her when they returned their books.
"Thank you Andy," she murmured as she slipped into her clogs. Great, now this was hell. Andy had this boyish, eager look on his face as she walked past him towards the living room. He followed like a puppy, chattering away about school and sports and any stuff she had no interest in. He may have been a good kid, but he was still a kid, and she kind of had a crush on someone else. Someone way more dangerous and a hell of a lot older than her.
"So are you here for the night?" he asked as she plopped down onto the couch. He sat on the edge of the coffee table in front of her, rubbing his hands together while he grinned shyly. He wasn't ugly, but he wasn't handsome. Living with his sister, Little Miss Popular, led to all sorts of inadequacies and insecurities, and he had to fight just to keep up. Lately he was rocking Chuck Taylors and a duck tail. Apparently mullets just weren't hip enough.
"Hopefully not," Mrs. Kennings unexpectedly cut in as she walked over. She'd taken off the coat but not the gloves. Julie was pretty, in a kind of no-nonsense, uptight mother way. Her hair was cut like Irene's, but was hearty brown as opposed to sandy blonde. She had on a calf-length evening gown absolutely drenched in blue and white sequins, patterned to look like shooting stars in the night sky. It probably cost more than Sarah's car. "We don't want Sarah to miss Christmas morning with her family, do we?"
Whatever Mrs. Kennings had to say was cut short as she was herded towards the foyer by her husband. Goodbyes were shouted, the door was shut, and outside a car engine revved as it drove off. She heard Jeanine march upstairs, muttering under her breath about the injustice of it all, which made no freaking sense whatsoever. Maybe her date was late, or better, had stood her up completely.
There was a really awkward moment of silence between Sarah and Andy, but then Toby crawled onto the couch beside her. He was still wrapped in his coat, and mumbled something behind his scarf before he crawled into her lap.
"Hey Squirt," she muttered into his hair as he leaned back against her. They were über close now, since she no longer complained about babysitting. "What's up?"
"I wanna go home," he groused unhappily. "This place smells like the doctor's office."
"I think it's all the bleach they use to keep things so white and sparkly." Grinning, Sarah pressed a kiss to the top of his head, resting her cheek against the down soft hair there. Andy got up and left, probably because he realized Sarah wasn't going to even look at her, now that her brother was there. They were buds, and Andy was just a hanger on.
"I'd like to be home as well. The Kennings don't even have a Christmas tree up. I wonder why they put up lights." No Christmas tree, no menorah, nothing. They probably put up lights just to keep up with their snobby neighbors. "Get up, kid. I'm going to turn off the lights now. You could use a nap."
Hell, she could use a nap. Faun was a terror, Andy was lovesick, and Jeanine was probably going to kill someone if her date didn't show up. Dumping Toby on the loveseat, Sarah got up to turn down the lights. There was a master control panel by the kitchen, and it always took her a minute or two to figure it out. With her arms crossed over her stomach, she padded over to the switches, her footsteps falling silent on the plush carpet.
"Okay," she mumbled as she got to the needlessly technical control panel. If there was an electrical appliance, there was a switch for it. There had to have been close to thirty switches in three rows, but at least they were labeled. She just didn't know if there was a particular order to them. Going in order was probably the best idea.
"Breakfast nook, kitchen island, kitchen outlets, overhead kitchen lights," she listed quietly to herself as she flicked each corresponding switch. The kitchen went dark accordingly.
"Alright, now for the dining room. Chandelier, canned lights, alcove candles. Man, these people have too many lights."
Room by room, the downstairs darkened, and after thirteen switches, she was down to the last one. It was the one that controlled the small candelabra by the curved stairs leading upstairs, which was the best place for a Christmas tree. Hell, a tall, fat blue spruce would only make the place look better.
Sarah smiled kind of sadly at the empty spot, sad and lonely and undecorated, but without a second thought she flipped the switch. Which hurt a lot for some reason.
"Ow!" she cried, ripping her hand away from the panel. Her fingertip burned like hot coal, and when she examined it, it was bright red and almost blistering. The wires must have sparked or something.
As she turned back to the couch though, her ankles wobbled as unexpected fatigue washed over her. It left her nauseous and sore, kind of like when she tried to fight off the effects of a sleeping pill
"Oh man," she muttered. "I wasn't tired a second ago. It must be the heat."
It was baffling. All of a sudden her lashes felt heavy, and getting back to the couch seemed impossible. The distance between her and the cushions was practically a mile.
Maybe… maybe if she just lied down for a minute, she'd feel better. Yeah, that worked.
Without thinking, Sarah kicked off her clogs, and dropped to her knees on the tile. They hurt from the impact, but before she could register the pain, she was on her stomach, sprawled on the floor, with her arms beneath her head for a pillow.
Faun had a problem. She liked owning stuff, particularly fine items and rare finds, but since her allowance was fifty cents a week, she had to resort to other methods. Most people called her a thief. Faun saw herself as a kind of sticky-fingered collector. Everything in her room had belonged to someone else at some point. Most of it still belonged to them. She told Mom and Dad that she bought it at the secondhand store with her allowance money, and they bought it. She got fifty bucks a week for doing pretty much nothing. As long as she lit nothing on fire, she got paid.
She heard her Sarah come in before her parents and icky Jeanine, and the super fast stomping past her door was probably Andy going to see her. He had a crush on her big time. She was an angel with a good rack, and everything she did was ice cool. The noises she heard coming his room whenever she went home were icky, though even Faun had to admit that she was pretty rad. She was a grown up, but she still liked to climb trees and play war games. Her books were awesome too.
Especially The Labyrinth, which Faun liberated after an impromptu game of hide-and-go-seek at Sarah's house. That and about fifty bottles of nail polish.
What? It wasn't like Sarah actually used them. The various shades of tan and pink were probably gifts from Irene, but they worked in a pinch when she ran out of war paint for Barbie and Ken (they were currently guerilla fighters in the devastating Candy Land civil war).
Resting on a pile of pilfered pillows (she knew lots of words about kleptomania), Faun flipped through the Labyrinth for the millionth time. It was just so cool. Hoggle was mean, Ludo was huge, and Jareth was the baddest cat on the block. He took what he wanted and offered no apologies, but it was his job to do whatever anyone asked. And if you asked politely with spot-on wording, you could get whatever you wanted with no consequence.
Most girls would ask for ponies or baby dolls or money. Faun could get those on her own, no problem. She just needed as a flathead screwdriver and duct tape. Bubble gum would do in a pinch. All Faun wanted to do was meet the guy. They seemed to have the same problem with stealing other people's stuff and refusing to give it back. Jareth took it a step further by kidnapping a baby and then trapping his sort of girlfriend. If he didn't prove to be cool in person, at least he could give her some good tips.
Wording her request was easy. If she could pass criminal behavior off as eight-year-old mischief, then tricking the Goblin King into a meeting would be easier than stealing cigarettes from the local gas station. Not that she smoked. She sold them to teenagers, including Jeanine.
God, how she hated Jeanine. In fact, she hated nearly every member of her family. Jeanine got away with murder, Leland took out his aggressions on her, and her parents were assholes. They went out every night and stuck her with the most horrible babysitters or Jeanine if they couldn't get Sarah. She wanted all of them to pay, but she didn't want them to become goblins. At the end of the day, she still loved them. They just deserved to suffer in very interesting, comedic ways.
Besides, she wanted a Christmas tree. Mom and Dad never put one up because they were too lazy, not because they were nondenominational. They only put up a tree if they were hosting a Christmas party, which they never did. They're excuse was that they spent Christmas morning with Grandma, who went all out on Christmas. What a shitty excuse. Heads of cabbage came up with better lies.
It was time for a Christmas miracle. Or a Christmas slaughter. Both involved the color red, so either would do.
Faun rolled to her back, crossing her arms beneath her head. Her busy brown curls were hard as a rock with stolen hair gel, but they were sure to hold their shape until the Goblin King got there. It was as dressed up as she planned to be, since her pajamas were way too comfortable and she was super lazy.
"Now listen up goblins," Faun said firmly as she rested The Labyrinth on her stomach. "I'm in charge right now, so listen up. I wish the Goblin King would appear before me right now, to do whatever I say, so you better send him over right now if you like your teeth."
"What a rude request. Is this how you make out the wish list you send to Santa? You must have a mountain of coal in your closet."
The voice coming from her bed was rough but slick, and very pissed off. Faun had never really heard anything like it. It was like hearing a lion roar without raising its voice at all.
"Can't say I have any coal," she replied as she tipped her head towards the voice. "But I do have my very own Goblin King. Weren't you supposed to come in through window and shift from an owl to man right before my very eyes?"
The villain in her new favorite story arrived through the window in a flurry of feathers and leather armor. The actual Goblin sat on her bed cross-legged and his arms crossed over his chest. He was dressed kind of casually too. He had on a loose, long-sleeved grey shirt, tucked into tight black pants, which were tucked into tall black boots.
He was both older and younger than she expected. In her mind, she'd pictured a broad, grizzled warrior in a spiked crown with a huge beard. The man in front of her was blonde, clean shaven and skinny, but his eyes were so old. Not because of the wrinkles, few as there were, but… she didn't know. She could've done without the scowl though.
"You wished for my audience, but did not entail how I was to make my appearance. That, and I just don't like you," the Goblin King snipped before narrowing his eyes at her. "And you do not have your very own Goblin King. I belong to someone else, whelp."
"Yeah, well, you're mine for the evening, and you have to do what I say." Faun couldn't hide her disappointment. He wasn't acting all fancy and threatening. He was just a guy sitting on her bad, looking as let down as her Dad on report card day.
"That is quite the misconception my dear. The goblins were horribly offended by your threats regarding their fangs, as they are quite attached to them. So, they came up with a new bargain."
Jareth stood up slowly and started circling around her. Since he wasn't very tall she didn't feel too scared, neither did she feel any pressure to actually stand up. She just laid there, arms beneath her head as she watched him swoop around her like a vulture.
"You, my dear, are allowed two wishes. Their effects will not be lasting, in fact, they won't last past morning."
"Two?" Faun asked with obvious boredom. "Shouldn't it be three?"
"Be happy with two or I'll make it zero."
Wow, talk about a rough deal. But two temporary wishes were better than none, and maybe she did have something he did want. Two wishes could deal endless amounts of mayhem, and she had two rotten cavities that needed some drilling.
Jeanine and Andy – but who to start with?
"Okay Jareth, here's my first wish," Faun said as she sat up. The Goblin King perked up as well, propping his gloved hands on his hips as he arched a brow down at her.
"Oh?"
"My sister Jeanine is a total bitch. She's the most airheaded bimbo on the entire planet. I've never bet a bigger idiot, smoker, drinker or whore."
"I am not going on a date with her," Jareth snapped. "Whore or not."
"Cute, but she already has a date. That's where my wish comes in." Coming to her feet, Faun dusted of the seat of her Darth Vader PJ's, and stood before Jareth with her head held high. "Jeanine has never been punished in her entire life, but punishment's not good enough. She deserves to be humiliated."
Jareth's grin was positively evil, if a little bit tense. He seemed kind of tired.
"Humiliation is simple, but taste specific. Have anything in mind? You know her better than I do."
Duh, she had something in mind. Something horrible. Something that couldn't be dealt with until a few loose ends were tied up.
"Yeah, but we have to take care of my babysitter. She's really nice and I can't let anything happen to her. If she says one word to Jeanine, Jeanine will go ape shit on her."
For a second the Goblin King just stared at her, looking almost bored, but then he spoke up as if there were no awkward silence to begin with.
"She's been dealt with." Faun glowered suspiciously.
"She's not dead, is she?"
The Goblin scoffed, and pinched the bridge of his nose.
"No, she's not dead. She may be a bit sore in the morning, but she's not dead. Now, Jeanine. What would you like me to do to her?"
Faun grinned. "That's my two wishes, actually. I just need you to knock out Jeanine, and my brother Leland. Whatever you did to my babysitter, do it to them."
There was a thump from Jeanine's room, and one from Leland's room. The crashes that followed seemed incredibly painful and expensive. If she wanted to pilfer their stuff, she'd have to work around broken glass and records from the sound of it.
"And what am I to do while you raise mayhem?" the Goblin King remarked dryly. "Play with your toys and your costumes?" Something about that sentence made him smile sadly, but whatever. His memories were his own, and she probably didn't want to know what he did in his spare time. He seemed like the kind of guy who raised hell just so he could get a boner.
"I dunno," she said with a shrug. "My babysitter brought a tape with her, the Nutcracker I think."
He rubbed his chin, considering her with a thoughtful frown. Then he shrugged and turned towards her door.
"Done," the Goblin King said, leaving her to her own devices.
Devices which included stealing Jeanine and Andy's shit while Jareth worked his magic.
What a despicable child that brat was, Jareth mused as he meandered out of the small, poster-covered bedroom. Though she was barely four feet tall, and most of that height was bushy brown hair, she more than made up for her stature with bad intentions and stupid, girlish aspirations. For though she was a thief, wishing her siblings such petty harm was completely feminine. Men were smart and employed violence.
"I hope she dies in a fire," he muttered to himself as he tromped down the stairs. His Christmas was going as it usually did. The goblins were throwing a party in the throne room, as well as in every other room of the castle, save for his study and bedroom, which were connected anyways. While they drank themselves into a stupor, he was busy relaxing. Nick, Santa himself, had sent over a fine bottle of brandy and a plate of sugar cookies made by the missus, only after Jareth mailed over his Christmas list. Nick insisted upon keeping him from turning into a miserable old man, not that he'd ever be old. His list was always the same.
Leave me alone.
Barring that, a new pair of boots.
But still, leave me alone.
This year, he added one more thing to his list, but knowing Nick, he'd view it as human trafficking. Considering that Jareth already worked in the 'humans as bargaining chips' business, he would never receive the fourth item on the list.
It was a lonely way to go about things, but he'd rather spend Christmas alone than with someone he didn't care about. There was his family, but dear God, they were a horrid lot, and worse, they were all married. There were his many former lovers, but they were shallow, lifeless whores compared to… compared to…
Jareth ran a hand over his eyes as he descended the stairs. It wasn't easy being in love, especially when the object of your affections was, well, a teenager from an entirely different world who probably forgot you existed.
Unless she was lying on a floor because you cast the 'Sleeping Beauty' spell.
His feet nearly gave out beneath him as he came upon the last step, when what to his wandering eye should appear, but Sarah lying on the ground, looking more beautiful that he had ever seen her. Or as beautiful as a comatose woman in hideous pants could be.
"Goodness, Nick, I didn't mean literally," he breathed in wonder as he quickly walked over to her, kneeling by her side. He turned her onto her back, looking her face over for cuts and bruises. The spell had a tendency to knock people out quite literally, but Sarah appeared to be uninjured. Just to be sure, he slid his arm under her back, drawing her close to his chest as he stroked the back of her head and neck with his free hand. Nothing felt broken or cracked, so maybe she was okay.
Now what? He had her, she was incapacitated , and upstairs a horrible child was doing equally horrible things to her brother and sister. Which meant he had a few minutes to do whatever he wanted, now that he thought of it. Why not examine his present?
"You might as well be wrapped up in a bow," he mused as he looked Sarah over. She was older now and her hair was different, but he knew that. He looked at her through his crystals often enough. The one thing he wasn't prepared for was the weight she'd put on in three years. It wasn't much, and it was all in her chest, but…
"Good Lord, I'm rambling." Rambling or not, it was best to let her go on sleeping, but not on the ground. It was cold there. Frankly, the entire house was cold. Not literally, but certainly in spirit. As he lifted her in his arms to carry her to the couch, he was struck by the massive amounts of white. There was no color anywhere, and even stranger, there weren't any Christmas decorations, which was odd.
"Well, I don't need mistletoe to kiss you, do I?" Jareth said with a cheeky grin as he gently laid her on the couch. He stretched out her legs, which were even longer than before, and placed her hands comfortably on her stomach, but he didn't let them go. He wrapped his fingers around hers, rubbing her knuckles with his thumbs.
This was so fucking bizarre. Some curly-headed ingrate wishes for his audience, he puts a spell on her babysitter, and then that babysitter turns out to be Sarah. An older Sarah, thinner in her face but curvier through her body, with vastly different hair. It wasn't stiff or styled to the point of being hard, as was fashionable. Really, it was the exact opposite, completely untouched, soft and clean. He just didn't imagine that it would be quite so wavy and thick. It was almost curly (without being ridiculously kinked). The peacock feathers tucked behind her ear were cute too. Everything was cute about her.
If this was what it was like to be a teenage boy in love, it certainly was uncomfortable, almost squishy really. He felt clean and fresh, and more than a little warm.
"Is she the young girl in the story?"
Jareth's head snapped towards the stairs. Faun, the evil brat, was standing at the top of the landing, wearing a bright pink dress and green sneakers that were comically large on her. She had a clearly fake tiara on her head and a canvas bag bursting at the seams with what looked like… were those tampons boxes and condoms?
"Is she the girl from the story?" she asked again..
"And if she is?" Liar though he was, never would he ever deceive anyone about Sarah's triumph. Everyone in the Underground knew he lost their game, so they knew that she reject him. Since secrets couldn't keep friends, it was for the best. This child was not a friend.
"You should kiss her then. Since you love her." But boy was she a bitch. "Unless you're a chicken."
"I'm no chicken," he muttered to himself. He was desperate for a kiss though.
As he shifted to kiss her however, he realized that it could possibly go very, very wrong.
He cupped her cheeks in his hands and stroked his thumbs over her cheekbones. He used an exact copy of the spell that put the fiction Sleeping Beauty to rest. And like that spell, only a kiss from her true love would lift it – until the caster removed it.
"What is all that?" he asked without letting go or looking from Sarah. "In your bag there?"
"Jeanine's condoms. I'm putting them in Mom's room. Are you going to kiss her or not?"
What if he kissed her and she didn't wake up? What if she did wake up?
"Yes," Jareth croaked after a second.
And then he kissed her.
Merry Christmas! Here's your special!
This is the prequel to Not Too Much to Ask, and came to me after watching Desperately Seeking Susan, Mr. Mom, and Adventures in Babysitting. The Adventures in Babysitting references are pretty obvious (Leland and Andy), but the other two aren't so obvious.
Since this is a prequel, we know what happens next. They get together. But of course we want to know how that happened.
It began here, but it won't end here. This is where you come in. This story is going to be a series of specials, centered largely around the holidays. But which ones? And what happens?
I'll give you a list of choices – three per special. There will be as many specials as whatever, but they will only encompass a single year - Jareth and Sarah marry when she turns nineteen. You'll vote for your favorites, and after a quick tally, I'll write a 5,000 word length special. The Kennings are now officially a part of this canon, so expect them in future specials.
The next special is for Valentine's Day. Here are your choices.
Location:
- A snowed-in cabin in the mountains, which has no electricity or heating because of the blizzard.
- The Williams' household during Robert and Irene's at-home dinner date.
- A barn in the rolling hills of Kentucky that houses retired racehorses, and smells of apples and hay.
Bird:
- A baby Tufted Titmouse.
- A pregnant peahen.
- A plucked chicken carcass.
And now for the big one.
Do you want to know if Sarah woke up?
- Yes.
- No.
Merry Christmas everyone! Vote now, or forever hold your peace.