Author's note: It all started with MLC and a Tumblr game : "turn to page 35 of the nearest book -read the 3rd sentence down to determine the state of your sex life for the next year." And it ended with a challenge to write a cheeky (or smutty for the braver souls) 221B.
Oh, and my sentence was "10.54 : Cattle on the highway". Here goes :
"How about some chocolate, doctor ?"
Somehow, while I was busy marvelling at the curves her dress more than hinted at, she turned into a scrumptious chocolate covered apparition. Scrumptious chocolate covered Molly... Sounds like a tongue twister. Speaking of tongue...
"10.54" says Molly. But the voice is wrong, so wrong... Wrong enough to wake me up.
Groaning, I struggle into a seated position, nearly having a heart attack when I realize the owner of the voice is inside my tent. Absurdly, I'm relieved. That wasn't my subconcious... Then, outraged :
"What the hell ?!"
"10.54" he repeats cryptically.
"And what the fuck does that mean ?!"
Rolling his eyes, he tries again :
"It's a police code. 10.54 : cattle on the highway."
I don't think I've ever gotten dressed so quickly in my life. That's all I need now, cows.
"They're trampling the crime scene, John !"
"I thought we had no crime scene."
"I found it while you were... sleeping."
He knows... Of course he knows. But he can't, really. I decide not to care.
Slowly I repeat :
"Cows are trampling the crime scene... Isn't it too late then?"
"Might not be. I need a wingman."
"A wingman is to help pull women, not cows."
And that's when I spot the bull.