Chapter 7
Accidentally Sexy. This wasn't something Rapunzel would consider herself. At the very least, she never did anything purposefully alluring. And yet, page after page, that's what the images told her. There was something so sensually sweet about Rapunzel painting, with bits of color smudged across her cheek and nose. There was something oddly seductive about Rapunzel picking the lock of a door, the tiniest bit of pink tongue peeking out from the corner of her mouth. Napping on a bench in the courtyards, dancing to the sound of some faraway drum, just being her, Rapunzel, is what he found sexy. She didn't try, she just was, and apparently being so unknowingly beguiling had some ramifications.
There was one image of her licking the icing off of a cupcake in complete bliss, and behind her, a pathetic looking palace guard stood with a strangled look on his face. Next to it was a block of text, which read: Poor Joel had to stand there and watch you the entire time you ate that cupcake, whilst trying to calm his raging erection. And, if you can't readily understand why it's so hot, imagine him imagining the cupcake is his hard-on.
Now Rapunzel was embarrassed, "Oh, Joel. I'm so sorry!"
One of the images had a little title next to it: Red-handed. Feet propped up on a stone ledge, skirt bunched up in her lap, and the book hovering above her, turned on its side, her own head tilted in confusion. And to answer that question: It TOTALLY is. "Oh, hell…"
The next page had only one image: that of Rapunzel, with nothing but a tiny nightgown on, arms and legs spread out. Lots of little arrows were pointed to various parts of her body, with comments and dates. The title of this piece was: The many places Rapunzel likes to be touched, tickled, or kissed, including dates of discovery, and added in the bottom corner: And you said I wasn't paying attention.
At the bottom of the next page, which showed Rapunzel leaning against a pillar, gazing out of the window, a warning was written. Before you turn the page, Blondie, you have to understand something. I'm a guy, and all guys do this. We wouldn't be guys if we didn't. I do it, the guards do it, the guys at the Duck do it, even Max and Pascal. Although I'm pretty sure theirs are limited to their own species. At least, I hope. So, enjoy?
Rapunzel warily turned the page, fearing the worst, and was mildly surprised at what lay before. Once again, she was in the smallest nightgown in her wardrobe, only this time it was magically see through, her nipples were distended, tenting the fabric just so. Her right hand was fisting the fabric at the hem, and her left hand tucked between her legs, and her face contorted in the sweet agony only an orgasm could bring. "Well, that's not so bad. I have clothes on still…"
As if preempting her reaction, Eugene had written a message here as well. Oh, don't you worry. It gets worse. And it did.
Eugene had made a valiant attempt to stay awake, but that small patch of roof was sloped just right, and the night breeze was quite refreshing to his muscles, which were now recognizing the work they had been put through that day. Before long, his eyelids slid closed, and he hadn't even realized he lost the battle.
She was blushing madly as Naughty Rapunzel (with a little Eugene thrown in at times, doing some very interesting things with his hands, his mouth, his, well, the idea is there.) flitted through the pages before her. Surely Madam Greta would have something to say about these, like dainty princess lips were not made to be engaged in such vile and shameful actions, if she ever got her hands on this book, and wouldn't it be so very embarrassing if she did.
Eventually the sordidness tapered off, and they became increasingly intimate. It was lovemaking on paper, and she couldn't fend off the ache that engulfed her chest. So this is love? The next few pages were filled with tender caresses, loving embraces, and looks of deep longing. Once again, Rapunzel was annoyed with herself. She really shouldn't be so surprised at his depth of emotion. She came to another border; only this one was simpler, as though a child had drawn it. The message inside read: Everything I thought was true of the world, and of life, you've managed to prove wrong. You're the first and only person I've ever met that actually keeps their promises, even if they are made to a frog, or a horse, or a complete stranger you decided to trust. I thought I knew what I wanted. I had a plan, a Master Plan. Maybe Maximus was an agent of destiny, guiding us to the places we're meant to go. So, that tower wasn't part of the plan, and you weren't part of the plan, but it's where I was meant to be.
She was speechless. Floored. In awe. So THIS is love. Her mind went a little numb at the giddiness of it all. She made to close the book, thinking it was the last of it, but stopped when she spotted a bit of sketch on the next page. There was no color in this one, and it looked just like the pictured in the beginning of the book. Simple, and raw. There was a raised mound in the middle, and wavy lines all around. The trees didn't sway in the breeze, and squiggle clouds shared the sky with m-shaped birds. On the mound were two simple figures, holding circle hands. At the bottom, in inelegant letters were the words: My new dream.
