Disclaimer: See Chapter One.
Author's Note: Tristan, no biting the author. grin
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Muses Behaving Badly
Chapter Twelve: The Mall
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The mall. The most wonderful creation of modern society. I took a deep cleansing breath as I stepped into the air-conditioned luxury of mall. To my right was the smoothie shop, to the left a shoe store.
If there was a heaven, this just might be it. I started towards the shoe store, already itching to try the pair of ribboned red stilettos in the windows. Yup, those were a pair of "fuck-me-now" shoes and if I was going to go forward with my plan for getting some male attention, those would be the perfect beginning.
I stepped into the store, smiling at the handsome and obviously gay young man who hurried towards me.
"Good afternoon, miss. How can I help you?"
I grinned. "I want THOSE." I pointed at the shoes. "Size six, regular." The man ran to the back of the store and came back with a shoebox. Moments later I was seated, my sandals swapped out for the stilettos and the red ribbons wrapped up my calves.
"Darlin', these will have men drooling from here to Chicago," he crooned, swiping my credit card through his register. Moments later my sandals were tucked into my purse and I was continuing on with my shopping.
By the time that I had gotten to the food court, the peasant blouse and skirt were also gone. In their place was a little red, swishy dress that ended about three inches above the knee and actually made me look like a girl. Not a supermodel, mind you, but a girl. With curves and legs and hips and a butt. I'd already been propositioned by four handsome men with no wedding rings or tan lines on their left hand. So far the day was definitely looking up.
Dropping into a chair with a diet soda and a plastic bowl of sesame chicken, I mulled over the day. After kicking Lancelot out of the bathroom late last night, I had gone to bed. Fortunately the muses had left me alone after the bath incident. They'd been noticeably absent as I rolled out of bed, took a leisurely bath again, then dressed to go shopping.
Then I'd taken a wonderful drive alone to the mall. No one whispering in my ear or fiddling with the radio dial or commenting on my driving. No one complaining about my taste in men. I was free.
Now, with the tinny strains of Matchbox Twenty playing over the food court speakers, I took a bite of the sesame chicken lunch I'd purchased. Divine.
"Not quite," groused Bors, arms crossed over his chest as he glared at me.
I frowned and fished my Bluetooth headset out of my brand new handbag, slipping the earpiece onto my ear. If I was going to have to deal with my muses, let the people around me think that I was having a phone call, not a mental break. The light on the earpiece on to give the impression that I was on a call and the volume turned to zero, I turned to Bors. "I knew it was too good to last. What are you doing here, Bors? I didn't think about you. I was thinking about men in general and more particularly that fine specimen over there." I waved my hand in the general direction of a long-haired guy in snug jeans and a polo.
Bors frowned. "You need to go home."
I frowned. "I need to go home. Pray tell why."
Bors leaned forward. "Because if you do not come home immediately, Tristan will begin to play with Lancelot. Much as he did with Methos."
I blanched.
"He did not take kindly to Lancelot's liberties with you in the bath."
I shook my head. "But nothing happened," I squeaked, already getting to my feet.
Bors stood as well, sweeping my body from head to toe with his eyes. His dark eyes were hard when he met them again. "That clothing does not indicate that nothing happened."
Letting out a moan of frustration, I stormed off towards my car.
Last thing I needed was for Tristan to start playing "Ten Little Indians" with the knights and start eliminating them one by one. After all, there were only seven of them.
TBC...
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To My Wonderful Reviewers
Ysolde (And Tristan): It's not nice to kidnap my reviewers. And thanks for showing how easy it is to send me into paroxysms of worry and angst. And, yes, Tristan, I know that you're Sarmatian. Not Scafia. However, your actor is Danish, and therefore Scafia. That's kind of the point. However, as you requested, you get to do something to Lancelot. See, I keep my word. You released Ysolde, you get Lancelot. Now don't hurt him. And as to the Scafia taking over Bridget's perceptions in the story, I have no idea what you're talking about. See, completely oblivious. evil grin
Saxongirl345: So glad you enjoyed. Yeah, can't you just see them doing that? Here's more and more is coming.
Pastel Shades: So glad that you're still enjoying. And as you suggested, they showed up while shopping. Hope you enjoyed.
cleopatra32003: You're not kidding. It would be interesting to see how the muses handle competition for their authoress's attentions. Here's more. And it was probably a sexy growl. Though it didn't help the lothario's cause.
vampout: So glad that you said that. Here's more and let's hope you keep saying that.
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