Author's Notes: Ok, so here it finally is, lol. "A word of caution to this tale..." (quoting Hercules) this one-shot is very raunchy and vulgar and there may be some material that is inappropriate for younger readers. If any of what I listed offends you, please do not read this :).
Ok, all that said: please enjoy Dallet and Guimel's solo shot :)
Thank you to Cat who read over this for me:). Love ya!
Reviewer Responses:
Glass Angel: Thank you so much for reviewing "If I Didn't Know..." Glad you enjoyed it. I didn't get your review in time to put you in the response section for chapter 24. You sent the review while I was putting up the new chapter. How about that? I'm sorry :(. Thank you for your reviews, both of them :)
Kou-Kagerou: Hey Miss Lady, I already responded to you in e-mail lol, but you know I always have to give you a shout out to let you know how greatly appreciated you are. Thanks!
Strangedream: Hehehe, yes you must send me the rules to Rat Screw lol. The name alone interests me ;). I'm glad you liked "Van and Dilandau's Date" :). And I know you're tired of hearing this, but you'll just have to see what I've decided on for Dilandau. Thanks for reviewing!
Haruko: Well, Van may have had a problem with you dating his Dilandau-chan lol, but I'm sure you could take him ;). Folken playing spoons. You know, they'd probably make him unscrew that metal arm for safety and fairness reasons lol. Thanks for reviewing; I'm glad you liked "The Date" and maybe Van will find out about the health issue and get to offer a hug ;). Take care!
Jhaylin: Lol.! Lucky for Dilandau so much other stuff is going on, Folken might not be too mad about the tattoo...might not be, being the key phrase there ;). Take care girl and thanks for reviewing!
Pockettiefairy: Hehe, yes I'm alive and I'm glad you liked "The Date." Take care and enjoy this one-shot. Thanks for reviewing.
Kate: I think I already spoke to you in the chapter response lol, but no the story's not ending. I put "The End" on all the one-shots. Thanks for reviewing chic! Take care!
Squizles: Heh, I already answered you in chapter 24 too :). But I want to say thanks again! Take care!
Macky: Thanks! Glad you liked Merle ;). Take care!
Omnipotent Pyro: Hehehehe... I think Van's going to get more of a reaction to his new "do" than Dilandau ;). You'll se what I mean in Chapter 25. Thanks for reviewing girl; glad you liked it! I hope you enjoy this new one. Take care!
SkippysCat: Haha, I'm sure I've told you everything I think of somewhere between e-mails and chats. Can't say how much I appreciate you, and thank you for reading over this one before I posted it and got my face cracked by people telling me how bad it was :). Thank you!
Severed One-Shots
#3. The bigger the feet...
"Ugh, Guimel, you smell like... like Miguel," Dallet rubbed his nose, scowling at his heavily perfumed comrade.
Guimel grinned widely. "Hey, for some reason the ladies in Court flock to Miguel like he's some sort of god, and I figure it may be because of his distinct aroma. You know ladies are attracted to that pheromone shit and what not. Here, I swiped the bottle so you can rub some on too."
Dallet frowned at the palm sized glass bottle that was nearly half-empty. "Guy, how much did you use? Miguel's gonna have a cat if this was a new bottle."
Guimel shrugged, dusting imaginary lint off the quartered sleeve of his cotton shirt. "He has more; this was the only stuff that didn't smell like something floral. I'll just... put some water in the bottle; fill it back up to the top and screw the lid on real tight. He'll never know I opened his gift."
"Gift?" Dallet raised a brow. He sat on Guimel's rumpled bed, staring at his tow-headed friend, studying Miguel's cologne like it was the most interesting specimen on Gaea.
"Huh? Oh yeah," Guimel tossed the bottle in the air and caught it deftly in one hand. "It had a bow on it and everything. Said it was from an admirer. I thought, King Van, right away; maybe Miguel and Van are sweet on each other after all. But I don't know with the way the boy king's been sniffing after Lord Dilandau's ass. Every time I look up, he's staring at the kid. Wanted to laugh one day at how oblivious our dear Captain can be about certain things."
Dallet chuckled, lying back on the lumpy mattress and beating it a few times, trying to figure out what was pressing against his spine. "One day, he'll figure it out, or we'll tell him. How do you think he'll take to knowing?"
After struggling for a moment to get comfortable, Dallet finally gave up and flipped over, digging under the blankets to discover what those damn lumps were. His hands found a bundle of silk and lace and he tugged. "Guimel!"
"Wha?" Guimel had vanished into the depths of his closet, but poked his head out the door with his leather wallet between his teeth.
Dallet let a large pink brassiere dangle daintily from one pinky and a pair of silk bloomers perch on top of his head. "What the hell man? Your woman leave here commando?"
Guimel frowned, squinting at the lingerie and creeping closer to snatch the brassiere and inspect it up close. A slow blush spread over his face and he smiled sheepishly. "Ah... actually..."
"Actually what?" Guimel was blushing? Guimel didn't blush. "Spit it out, Guy!"
"They're souvenirs, you know?– from Molly. She sells em' sometimes, but she gave me those for free. She thinks I'm sweet."
Dallet blinked a few times, shaking the bloomers from his head and raking a hand through his long hair. Maybe it was time to lose the bangs; it had been so long since he'd seen his forehead he'd forgotten the shape of it. "Guy, give it up. That woman's not interested in kids. She's too..."
"Don't you dare say she's too much woman for me! I can handle anything anyone gives me to work with. I can.."
Dallet held up a silencing hand. "Enough."
Kami-sama, Guimel and his easily wounded manly pride. "I'm not questioning...your abilities, but you see the men Molly hangs around and takes to the back room. They always return to the bar looking... like they'd seen...everything. Like the knowledge of all things was transplanted into their minds or something. They change after that; they're different, you know? Sizing up all the women they meet after Molly like no one else can compare. You don't want that, Guimel. You don't want knowledge and wisdom; you just want attention and you'll take it from anywhere."
Guimel actually managed to pull off a hurt expression that Dallet wouldn't have purchased with half a copper cent. "Get off it, Guimel. You're easy, and you want easy women you won't have to think about for too long afterward."
Guimel opened his mouth to speak.
"Not saying there's anything wrong with that. My, well older guys, are always saying that certain women can change a man. I know my Dad was a different person before my nutty Mom turned him into a pansy. You want a change? I was under the impression that you liked things the way they were."
Dallet watched Guimel walk to his mirror and pull at his curly locks. They could get haircuts together. Maybe they'd do that tonight before they hit the bars. Guimel's hair had always been a bit on the bushy side, but it was just getting ridiculous now.
Hmm... how would he look with a close-cut.
It sure would be a horrible time to find out your head had a strange shape to it after you cut all your hair off.
There should be some kind of method to measure the size and contours of your head before you chose any hairstyle that might display it.
"I like things just fine, and one woman ain't gonna change me. I do believe you're underestimating me, Dally," Guimel snorted, flicking the curl he held away. "And just for that... we're going to have to make a bet tonight."
Dallet groaned, flopping back on the bed to find yet another hump, this time under his head, that he was sure wasn't a pillow. "Guimel, how do you explain the inhabitants of your bed to the maids."
Guimel chuckled. "Well some of it is their stuff. They usually come in and take it with little giggles and go on about their business."
Dallet rolled his eyes. "What about the kitchen boy's stuff–what's his name, Simon, Silas?- what do they say when he leaves his things behind?"
"Don't be silly Dally; Sam never leaves anything behind. He's done this before," Guimel snorted, sounding put out. "You know, I rather like Sam. If I were to ever settle down, I think he's one of my top candidates for settling down with. He's fun, sexy, quiet, and up to everything. Bet he'd come sailing with us. In fact, he knows how... I think he said his father owned a fishing boat once."
"What happened to it?"
"Eh, it like sank. No, seriously, something poked a big freakin' hole in the bottom and it's currently taking up residence at the bottom of the Astorian bay, or some weird shit like that."
Dallet snorted, wondering briefly if that was truly the story before frowning at Guimel. "Hey Guimel... Look, I don't have a problem with it at all, but isn't it a little weird... you know? You trying it with guys and all? I mean, you're not gay, you're just..."
Guimel shooed Dallet off the bed and whipped back his covers, frowning at the flat-heeled shoe that sat before one of his pillows. "How did a shoe get there? I always tell people to take their damn shoes off before they get in my bed." He swatted the shoe off with the back of his hand and went on to smooth his rumpled bed sheets, probably checking for more foreign items. "I don't know, Dally. I don't think it's weird, and no, I'm not gay just curious.. I mean, do you ever wonder?"
Dallet's frown deepened as he pondered it. "Well...no. I don't think so, at least. When did you start wondering, Guy?"
Guimel shrugged, plopping down on his bed. "I don't know. I think it was Sam winking at me and stuff; he took me aside and propositioned me."
"What? When?" Dallet stared, trying to recall a time Sam had pulled his friend aside. Guimel had to have been drunk, and Dallet always made sure to take special care in watching Guimel when he was wasted. He'd stopped many a rotten love affair that Guimel was no wiser for.
"Uh...I don't know. I was shit face drunk though," Guimel waved a hand, "and it seemed like a good idea at the time. We played around and– I don't know– it was different. Sam's real cool; someone I could hang with for a while, which is why I say I could settle down with him."
Dallet snorted. "Well according to that, you could just as well settle down with me, Guy."
"Eh, you're lousy housekeeper, and you cook worse than Viole and Miguel put together; that's pretty damn bad. Those fools can't tell a skillet from a pot."
"Nobles." They shook their heads together.
"So anyways, you don't think you're– like– attracted to Sam?" Dallet pushed and Guimel shook his head.
"I don't think so; it's like... I don't feel the urge around him like I do around Patsy or Claudia, but he's fun."
"The urge, huh? Hey, you think Van gets the urge around Lord Dilandau?"
Guimel raised both brows. "I doubt he even knows what the urge is. In fact..." Guimel propped his hands behind his head. "...maybe those two are perfect for each other. Neither knows what they're doing; they can do that romantic junk girls are always talking about...you know, learn together."
Dallet chuckled. Lord Dilandau as a romantic was somewhat hard to swallow.
"Hey, don't underestimate our captain, Dallet. I've seen him play the guys he's caught looking at him. He knows what to do; he just doesn't know what to do it for..."
Dallet threw a pillow at Guimel. "Miguel would put a sword up your ass for that."
"I'm not scared of Miguel," Guimel chortled. "Just cause he doesn't know what to do or what to do it for..."
Dallet hooted. "Ai, Miguel and the art of seduction. Hah!"
"So..." Guimel sat up suddenly, rubbing his palms together. "What about our bet?"
"Bet?" Dallet frowned.
"Yeah...ah... geez... Oh yeah, Molly Big Breast will lay me tonight and I'll come out same as ever, 10 pieces."
Dallet whistled. Ten pieces? Did Guimel think Dallet was made of currency?– but then if he didn't accept the gamble on those grounds, Guimel would think Dallet supported the idea of Guimel being the all-mighty female wooer.
He'd never hear the end of it, and Guimel had to know it.
Rat bastard.
"What do ya say, Dally? You in? If you are, you gotta show me the money up front. I saw how clean your wallet was looking after you played crabs with Kio last night."
Dallet ruffled at that. That was a direct insult to his character. "You know I'd never stiff anybody!"
"Yeah, I know, but I need ten pieces and I don't wanna be counting on you to scrounge it up, when I could be concentrating on getting it elsewhere."
"What do you need a ten for?" Dallet was curious. Guimel was never short of money, mainly because of all the stupid bets he'd make and somehow win.
"Ah... I kinda..." Guimel looked at his hands, twiddling his thumbs for a moment. Dallet frowned; Guimel seemed nervous.
Nothing short of a funeral could take away Guimel's smug air.
Nothing short of a funeral.
"You know that place, that nice place that sells those girly shirts that Miguel loves so well? Well they have these really nice breeches. I saw them in the window when we were passing through town the other day. Remember them?"
Dallet thought back to the day before. He and Guimel had gone a lot of places. They weren't the kind to sit still and stay in one place for long. In fact, they'd been looking for a game of dice rumored to be played in one of the alleys beside the ritzy stores, infamous for all the rich suckers that could be swindled out of their pocketbooks.
Hmm... did Dallet remember any of the nice stores catching Guimel's attention?
"Uh...were they...?"
"Silver kinda, with loops for a leather belt," Guimel said with a sigh.
"And you want those?" Guimel in expensive breeches, that would be the day. Where was he planning on wearing them to? "Going to dinner with Miguel, Guy?"
Guimel's eyes widened, and Dallet was struck by the serious glint in them before it faded, the light blue orbs regaining their usual glow of good humor. "Nah. They wouldn't be for me, Dally. I'd be getting them for Lord Dilandau."
Lord Dilandau?
"But he has..."
"They don't fit anymore, and I want him to have something new. It's been a good minute, since Lord Dilandau's had anything new."
He hadn't wanted anything.
Tailors came to take requests, and Lord Dilandau never had any to make.
"So you're saving up?"
"Yeah. While you were looking at watches, I went in and asked the price. I almost fell over right there, but you know... only the best for him. So I told the man in the shop to hold them, but I don't know how long he'll do that for me. Maybe I should have told them who they were for."
"Maybe." Dallet rubbed his chin, studying Guimel. Why hadn't he told Dallet what he intended to do, and why was he still talking like he didn't plan to involve Dallet with his plans. Dallet could help; he could chip in.
He wanted to give Lord Dilandau something he'd like too.
"Hey, hey, I know what you're thinking, Dally. Get your own idea of something to get him, man. He deserves that, you know? What's a few months stipends a piece for our Lord Dilandau? Why don't you get him some lounging clothes? He doesn't have any of those, and..."
They both frowned.
"You can tell him it's sleep wear," Guimel suggested lightly. "He might believe it."
Dallet sighed. "Yeah, he might, but you're right. He doesn't have anything for the days when he's...tired. I'll go to that silk store next to the barbershop– Hey, Guimel? What do you say about getting haircuts?"
"You know someone who can do a decent job for free?" Guimel snorted and Dallet hummed as he thought.
He knew some soldiers that claimed to cut hair...but Dallet had seen some fruits of their labor and decided to pass.
"Nope."
"Then no cuts; we're saving. Remember?"
Yeah, they were saving.
"So you got 10 up front or what, man?"
"You're still on about that bet?" Dallet touched his knees and stared at Guimel.
Guimel slid off his bed and stretched, popping his back and his neck in one movement. Dallet was always amazed at Guimel's ability to do that without hurting himself. "Of course man. I've got it in the bag, and I need 10 pieces. If you got it, I'll take it from ya."
"You're that sure you'll win?"
"Hey, by your reluctance, I'm assuming you're sure I'll win too. Eh, Dally?" Guimel tossed a look over his shoulder, winking at Dallet in a way that got his competitive blood flowing.
Dallet had known Guimel was going to use this line of attack and though he should have been prepared... nothing could stop the surge of testosterone fueling his desire for victory.
"I don't think you'll win anything, Guimel. In fact, I bet your pansy ass will come crawling out of that back room crying for mommy. I bet you'll get in there and forget what to do."
"So... you've got 10?"
"I've got 15!"
"Well then, Dally, you're on!"
Guimel was shaking his hand before Dallet realized what he'd done. Did he just gamble all of his money?
Dammit!
"Come on! Lets get out of here before all the good beer's gone and everyone's too drunk to offer a decent game of pity– pat!"
Molly had been making eyes at him all night. After midnight the Joe's Tavern ceased being a bar and became a game room. All tables were pushed to the back where games of Black Jack, poker, pity-pat, Jim Rummy, Spades, dice, and anything else Guimel could think of trying his hand at where played. The gas lanterns were taken from the windows and set around the tables to illuminate the games. Bar attendants flitted to and fro, offering beer and nuts to paying customers.
Guimel nursed his ale and kept an eye on the table, wary of sticky-fingers. When men got desperate they did crazy things, like slipping earnings off the table and back into their pockets. The only times Guimel felt secure enough not to keep at least one eye on his prizes was when Lord Dilandau played.
He'd come up with some very creative ways to persuade potential thieves to keep their hands to themselves, that is, if they liked having hands.
Guimel had thought Lord Dilandau's antics would scare other soldiers away like they had on the Vione, but instead Astorian troops laughed and clapped him on the back.
"'Silver Boss was alright."'
"'Sit here, Silver Kid."'
Maybe it was because most of these men were inherently honest, so they had nothing to fear from Lord Dilandau, unlike the men of Zaibach.
Gods... what had that said about them, then?
"Play or fold, boy?"
Guimel threw down another copper cent. "Play."
The thick butt of a musky cigar was passed to him over his shoulder, and Guimel took a slow drag, blowing out rich flavored smoke and licking his lips. Tasted like lipstick.
A tall, slim glass of red wine was placed in front of Guimel, and he turned, face enveloped in two fatty pallets of female mammary gland. He fought the urge to moan in pleasure and inhaled the sweet scent of apples that marked Molly's proximity.
There were crows from around the table and Guimel felt the vibration of someone stomping their feet through his boots. "Little birdie told me you want to be a man, Guy."
"Hm..hm..."
Hm...hm? What the hell was wrong with his mouth? Speak, damn you! Brain, come up with something witty for the mouth to say! Impress Molly, dammit!
"To be a man, you gotta pass tests."
"Oh yeah?"
Oh yeah? You can do better than that brain; Dallet's watching, probably laughing his ass off right now at me!
"You been to class, I hear, but those tests are kinda hard. I'm thinking maybe you need a tutor."
Her breath was warm and fruity. Kami-sama, she smelled like a fruit pie, a tart, and little Guy was getting hungry. "I'm a bad student, Mol, real bad. I'm gonna need all the help I can get. But I don't have much money; how can I pay ya, doll?"
That's better. There we go... Guimel spared a glance at Dallet, wanting to laugh at the way his friend's mouth scraped the table. He was drooling on his chips.
Better luck next time, Dally. I'm gonna be leaving this card game early, but I'll have your 10 pieces to make up for all the earnings I'm deserting. He winked.
"Don't you worry about money, Guy. Boys need to learn their lessons; we need more men in the world to make things go round. Why don't you come on back to my room. I keep my books back there."
Books...right. Guimel grinned, standing up and hissing at little Guy to be patient.
Molly was a classy dame; she walked real dainty giving a little twist at the waist. Guimel watched her hips roll from side to side as he followed her, playing the good pupil. They reached the door, marked "Keep Out," and Molly opened it, giving Guimel a sexy smirk and sashayed through, curling a single finger at him, beckoning him to come.
Guimel tried not to skip after her. This was going to be so good. Sex with a professional and 10 pieces. How much better could this night get?
There were in a narrow hallway facing a row of 4 doors. Geez, did Joe, Bess, Molly, Jas, and Paulie all live here?
Molly chose the door furthest to the left, taking Guimel by the collar and throwing him into the room before her and ravaging him. Guimel hadn't the chance to gasp at her attack. Whoa...whoa... he'd never had a woman be so forward.
Molly's nails were long and sharp, and they scratched his scalp as they raked through his hair. It hurt, but the pain Guimel could live with. He was forced back until he ran into something soft; he fell backward, arms flailing for support. He relaxed when he realized he must be on her bed. It was soft... too soft... and he sank into the mattress, groaning as Molly's weight crushed down upon him.
She sat back, blond hair wild and curly about her face. Amazing, Guimel stared up at her, her lipstick hadn't smeared... Her fantastic chest heaved as she bared her perfect white teeth at him and suddenly, she reached for him, ripping at his shirt. Buttons flew every which way and Guimel wondered how he was going to explain the mishap on the way home if anyone saw him. Down she went, biting and tasting his nipples. He moaned...
Patience Little Guy.
She slid down, unbuckling his belt and working the zipper of his pants. Soon he was naked as the day he was born...but she was still fully clothed.
He had to fix that...
Oh yeah, he had to fix that.
Guimel reached a hand toward her bodice, but she beat him to it, pulling at the already loosened strings. Guimel felt tears springing to his eyes at the beauty of what he was seeing. Sheila had nothing on this; Claudia didn't compare... Roxy, hah! Forget Roxy...
This was Molly.
Off came the dress in one single tug over her head, and there Guimel was with the gorgeous woman of every man's desire perched on his chest in nothing but her bloomers, ready to roar.
She fell upon him again, kissing and sampling, scratching at his chest, back, neck, thighs... Little Guy...well he wasn't so little anymore...
He was excited; Guimel was excited...
Off with the bloomers; rip them off... I'll rip them off! Guimel grabbed for the panties, surprised that she'd let him; she hadn't let him really do anything. Molly was always in control. She was teaching him.
"That's it, baby. Go on, tell teacher the answer..." Molly was purring.
Gods... Guimel had never enjoyed study hours or doing homework, or lectures...but this class period, this lecture...with this teacher, he was making an exception.
He pulled hard, feeling the fabric tear in his hands, and he looked...
He looked...
He saw...
"AAAAAAH! WHAT IN THE HOLY HELL IS THAT! MY GODS!"
Dallet sat at the card table, unable to pay attention to his hand. He'd lost all but the 10 pieces he was gonna owe Guimel. Gods, Molly had walked right up to him and propositioned him. Usually the guys went to her and begged and pleaded.
Guimel wouldn't do that, so Dallet had been sure he'd win, but apparently, Guimel had been doing some work on the sly to tempt Molly's interest.
"Get your mind out of that room back there and back on the game, Dally. You owe us a better game than that," Reeden said, shoving some of Dallet's money back at him. "Give the kid a do over, man."
Dallet offered the man a weak smile and waved at the men around the table, shaking his head. "Nah, I can't accept that. I lost guys, fair and simple. I'm out. I can't concentrate on this anyway. I just... well..."
"You wanna know how that buddy of yours got in back there?" a burly man that answered to the name of Ryo rasped.
"Well...yeah." Dallet scratched his head. He was curious. He'd been with Guimel all night. How had he played the game without Dallet noticing?
"Told us all about that bet," Ryo chuckled, "so's I put in a world with Jas, and she got to Molly."
Dallet raised a brow. The bet. Yeah, Dallet had said something about it, about Guimel not winning. "You helped me lose to him?"
"What makes you so sure you'll lose?" Ryo laughed, slapping the table and taking a deep swallow of beer. Slamming his now empty mug back on the table. "You ain't ever been with Molly, son. I been with Molly."
"Yeah, me...me too," Big Tom hiccuped.
"Ol' Guy's so sure of himself; he thinks he knows, but no one ever do, until they been with Molly."
Dallet frowned. "Is she that good?"
Everyone always looked so... strange...once they returned from her bed. Guimel said he wouldn't look strange, that he wouldn't be changed.
"Dally, you ever hear the phrase said about certain people?– 'the bigger the feet, the bigger the...'"
The table erupted into raucous laughter before Ryo could finish. The big man could hardly contain himself.
"No, no I haven't heard it! The bigger the feet, the bigger the what? Tell me!" Dallet frowned at the roaring men. He wanted to be let in on the joke too. He didn't like being left out. The bigger the feet, what? Molly had big feet? He'd never noticed he was so busy staring at her rack. So what if she had big feet? Could it mean...
His head whipped toward the back room at the sound of voice raised in...
Terror?
Guimel?
The table quieted briefly, all attention diverted to service door, then at once the men were falling all over themselves laughing again.
"What? What's so funny?" Dallet was rising, ready to run to Guimel's aid. Gods, he sounded petrified. What in the world was going on back there?
The service door was flung open, and Guimel stood in the doorway, shirt torn to his waist, pants unzipped, boots in hand, huffing and wild. Quickly, he closed the door behind him, rushing to the table and throwing himself down beside Dallet, dropping his boots to grab Dallet's drink. He downed the near full mug in one gulp and the other men were quick to push their ale toward him.
Guimel wasted no time emptying those mugs as well.
"Guy, Guy what's wrong?" Dallet demanded. He was going to make himself sick! Dallet tried to take one of the beers away, and Guimel looked at him, blue eyes dark with horror and Dallet released the mug.
"Guimel, what..."
"Leave him alone, Dally and let him drink. He needs it, be...believe me," Tom belched, passing Guimel his own personal flask of hard liquor.
Dallet grimaced, watching Guimel toss back the brew, slapping the tin flask down when he was through, gasping at the burn Dallet could imagine he felt at the alcohol burning his throat as it went down. "Guy, what's wrong? Tell me what happened?"
"She..." Guimel was speaking. He stared at Dallet, blond curls getting in his eyes as he leaned forward to take his hands. Shaking... his hands were shaking.
"Dally, she... had both. Both! She had... Everything... Both, I tell you!"
She had both? Molly had both?– of what?
Ryo laughed hard. "You see it all, Guy?"
"Both...tits...and... both..."
"What the hell is going on? What are you talking about Guy?–What's he talking about guys?" Dallet was desperate. Something was wrong with his friend. He was in shock or something and everyone in the tavern was joking around like it was nothing to be worried about.
"What the hell happens back in that room with Molly?"
"Dally... that phrase... 'the bigger the feet, the bigger the..."
"Shaft..." Guimel finished. "The bigger the nuts! The penis! She has BOTH! She.. He... It!"
Dallet stared. Molly was... Dallet had heard of that before, but he'd always thought someone had made it up. Molly... and Guimel...
Dallet nearly fell out of his chair at a serious case of the "ha ha's" overcame him. The other soldiers guffawed right alone with him, ignoring Guimel's desperate pleas for them to stop.
Oh gods...oh Kami-sama... Dallet couldn't breathe... he was going to suffocate. Ai... He looked at Guimel through teary eyes, holding his head in his hands... Poor baby...
Dallet patted himself, looking for his coin purse and the 10 pieces he'd reserved for Guimel when he won the bet. Dallet located the money, pulling it out of his pocket and sliding it over to Guimel.
Guimel raised his head from his hands at the sound of the change sliding toward him. He looked down at the offering, frowning at Dallet. "Dallet, you won. She... I... you won, man. Why are you giving this to me?"
Dallet shook his head, giggles escaping his lips that he tried to stifle behind his hand. "It's uh...it's to pay your tutor, man. I don't think she charged you enough for what she showed you. Go on and take it to her Guy."
Guimel glared, swinging at Dallet, but Dallet had long fallen from his seat onto the floor, rolling in hopeless hysterics.
He laughed until it hurt and then some, and in the background, he heard the men starting up a catchy limerick, stomping their feet and clapping their hands. Dallet didn't know the song, but when a familiar line came around, he was able to join in, singing louder than anyone.
Looking for a treat
Ol' Molly does the trick
But...
The bigger the feet...
The larger the...
The End
Author's Note: I told you guys it was raunchy! So...what's the verdict? Like it?-Hate it?-Don't care either way? Let me know. Please review:)
