SMOOCH POOCH-
As soon as the free kisses sign appeared over Paris's head, a stampede of girls trampled their way over to him.
With the air of a dashing gentleman, Paris placed a light kiss on the cheek of each girl while grinning in anticipation for the next.
Unfortunately, the next in line turned out to be a very short, wrinkled grandma who only came up to Paris's shoulder.
"Hello, handsome," the old lady cackled. "I'm ready for some loving!"
Paris's smile stretched to the very limits of his face as he whispered under his breath to Hector,
"Save me! She's closer to you in age so why don't you kiss her?"
Hector took a huge step back and gave Paris a horrified look.
"But I have a wife and she would not take well to seeing me kiss old ladies from the street," Hector excused himself and rushed away to count the money they were earning.
Groaning inwardly, Paris could not help, but notice every sagging wrinkle of the old granny's face as she leaned in toward him. 'Whoa!' Paris thought as he bended back and away. 'Look at that piece of lettuce stuck in her teeth! It must have been stuck in there for ages! Has this woman never heard of a toothpick?'
Cringing with a strained smile, Paris awkwardly bumped his cheek against the elderly woman's cheek and let out a big sigh once it was done.
"Ah, give us a real kiss now, ya little smooch pooch!" the aged woman growled and grabbing Paris by the soft flesh of his cheek slammed his lips against her face.
"I feel young again!" she declared and as she bought a slice of thick sponge cake, demanded,
"You smooch pooch! Will ya be here again on Monday?"
Paris's only reply sounded like the dying breaths of a strangled man.
"Don't you worry, madem!" Hector interrupted. "He'll be here if you're here to buy another cake."
The ancient crone rubbed her chin and slamming her bony, frail fist down on the counter, declared,
"Done! But you make sure that the boy works on his kissing!"
"What am I? A chicken for you to sell on the market?" Paris sputtered in indignation as soon as the woman was out of the café.
"No," Hector replied. "You're a smooch pooch for me to sell on the ladies' market."
Paris muttered something that sounded awfully grumpy and stomped out of the place, making his way to a nearby florist shop. Wondering whether he should buy red roses or white roses, Paris finally settled on a budding bouquet of sweet smelling, pink roses and handed the seller all he had in his pocket: $1.
The owner of the place took one look at the money and snatched the roses back, handing Paris only one slender, drooping rose.
Paris marched himself to Helen's boutique and once he was there, he was suddenly unsure of what to do. He could clearly see Helen in the boutique, but there was another man standing beside her, and he was clearly a man Helen knew well.
And just then, Helen looked out of the window of her salon and met the wide, confused eyes of Paris. For a moment, she wasn't sure if she wanted to call the police or not, but then, she gently pushed her husband's advances away and opening the door, called out,
"Are you just going to stand there or are you going to come in?"
Paris blinked and looking uncomfortable, walked in to face the disproving glower of the other man.
"Paris, this is my husband, Menelaus," Helen spoke quietly, her eyes downcast and avoiding his.
"This another one of your pretty, model boys, sweetie?" Menelaus demanded of Helen.
"Yes," Helen responded, suddenly meek and easy to bend. "He's the one I'm asking you to sponsor."
Paris looked at Helen, bewildered.
"You don't think I'm a psych..." he began, hope overflowing his voice.
Helen held a finger to her lips. "No, I think you're perfect for the job."
Menelaus shrugged and got up. "Fine, but if he don't do well, I'm going to have to get my money back."
Menelaus left the boutique and left Helen and Paris alone in awkward silence.
"What happened yesterday with me thinking that you were going to kill me was...silly," Helen admitted, a crimson blush brightening her sudden paleness. "Someone called today and confessed that all the lies they had told me yesterday were plain nonsense to get back at you for something."
"Who would do something like that?" Paris wondered angrily. "Who would that kind of revenge at me? I don't remember offending anyone recently."
Helen offered a weak smile. "Someone closer than you think."