Disclaimer: See Chapter One.
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Muses Behaving Badly
Chapter Six: The Joys of Porn
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"What do ya' do with a drunken sailor?" I belted out, pushing open the door with a little more force than absolutely necessary. It was nine p.m., I was sunburned, a little drunk, and still in my Rennie garb. Which meant that I'd been catcalled at from the time we left the fairgrounds until I got to my door. Corsets rocked for getting catcalls.
The hallway was clear of any debris and I headed towards the kitchen. The answering machine light was blinking so I hit the green button.
"Hey, Bridget. It's your Mom. Hope that your schoolwork is going well. Your Grandma is still not feeling so hot. I'm sorry that we couldn't spend this summer with you. We'll call later to see how things are going. We love you!" came the singsong end of my mother's voicemail.
"She sounds nice," offered Cyrnic, the prince of the Saxons suddenly sitting at my kitchen island.
I shrugged and hit delete. "She is. So, whatcha doing here?" came the question as I moved to the sink. "Last I checked you were stuck in--boarding school?" I asked, waiting for confirmation.
The man of the strange braided beard nodded in confirmation.
"So, again, whatcha doing here?" I repeated, setting a glass of ice water before Cyrnic.
"Heard you were writing about the Saxons," he answered before he sipped the water, his eyes doing the quick elevator stare to take in the wonders of a corset.
Again I shrugged. At the moment I wasn't inspired to write anything, let alone write about Cerdic, the Sex God. "Haven't decided. That still doesn't explain why you're hear and none of the mad hatters are."
Cyrnic chuckled. On him it's this dark, malevolent thing, so I let him get away with it. "They're, how do you call it, watching porn."
The look on my face must have been priceless. "And you decided not to partake?" I asked, the tone of my voice carefully level.
Cyrnic again shrugged. "I've had slaves who did a more convincing job than the women in those movies."
Nodding at him, I stepped out of the kitchen. I headed towards the living room where I could hear hooting and laughter. Men didn't change, I decided. Whether they be from the fifth century or from the twenty-first, they were still dogs.
Stepping into the living room, I found Bors, Galahad, Gawain and Lancelot ogling and discussing the merits of the women on the flat screen TV. Tristan was quiet in the corner, eyes riveted to the screen but showing no other signs of interest. Dagonet was his self-controlled self, seated and watching but not shouting out at the antics of the porn actresses and actors. And Arthur looked ready to burst into flames if his blush was any indication. I looked around for Cerdic and found him. He was asleep. Guess he got bored.
"Gentlemen!" I shouted from the doorway.
Six guilty faces and one impassive faces swiveled towards my position.
"Turn off the grinding and get out. Oh, and wake up Cerdic. I wanna make sure he's alive before he leaves with you."
TBC...
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To My Wonderful Reviewers
Ysolde: May Tristan keep doing whatever he is doing with you that you enjoy. And thank you for introducing me to the music of Fields of the Nephilim. Very nice. And definitely inspiring.
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