Chapter 8
Steed returned from the boat with two glasses in one hand and an ice bucket in the other. Humidity was already causing condensate to drip from the chilled bottle inside. He thought he had heard Mrs. Peel cry out his name in an unusual voice as he approached on the river, but he was relieved to see that she wasn't in any distress.
She looked like a sleeping geisha in her silk outfit, curled up against the willow tree, bare feet demurely nestled in the grass. Putting the pajamas to good use, he thought. Although he had noticed earlier, it was now completely evident from the way the clingy top draped over her breasts that she wore nothing underneath. Below her waist, her legs were parted with both hands tucked inside. Steed arched an eyebrow as he watched her fingertips trace out a delicate caress on the thin fabric between her thighs, accompanied by a cooing sound. That must be some dream... It would probably be best to rouse her before it got too embarrassing. He discreetly leaned over to touch her.
Emma stirred before he could make contact and suddenly slipped her hands up to his shoulders. Pulling him into a close embrace, she ran her fingers through his hair and pressed her lips to his in a tender kiss.
"Thank you, dear Steed," she murmured.
"You're quite welcome, milady." He gave her a wry smile. "Though after that, I feel I should be the one giving thanks, Mrs. Peel."
"Mrs. Peel?" she said in a daze. "Don't you mean Miss Ryder? Wait—you're not a horse!"
"Only in name," said Steed.
"Some things are a little fuzzy. But I am certain of one thing: you are a bowler-wearing horse."
"Any white rabbits with pocket watches?"
"Actually, there was a pocket watch..."
"Sounds like someone had a midsummer daydream," he teased.
Emma shook her head. "This was no ordinary dream. The Ladja appeared here on the banks of the Thames, wearing his checkered mask. I chased him through a giant game of chess. I was a Knight, and you were my Steed."
"At least that part makes sense." He remembered her provocative self-caress. A thought suddenly occurred to him, and he gave her a cocky grin.
"Were you riding on my back? How was it?"
Emma realized that she still had her arms wrapped lovingly around Steed's neck. She was aroused to the point of losing all control. Blame it on that crazy Freudian dream. She didn't want to release him; if anything, she wanted to kiss him again, this time while fully awake. Perhaps while unclothed.
"I met all sorts of strange people and animals," she continued. "I was helped by two other women, a blonde and a brunette."
"Curiouser and curiouser."
"The Ladja tried to kiss me."
"Speaking as someone who was just on the receiving end, I can hardly blame him," Steed said. "You are eminently kissable, Mrs. Peel."
Emma felt herself redden with a warm glow. She enjoyed Steed's closeness as he kneeled on the grass between her legs. She gave him a playful smirk.
"I was able to defeat him by using something called a Hurricane Kick."
"That sounds typical enough, one of the dazzling moves from your repertoire."
"Except it isn't. I've never heard of such a technique," Emma countered. "It can only be a fantasy, the product of some mind-altered state." She looked at him teasingly. "Are you sure that the cheese was properly aged? What about those mushroom accents?"
"Pure portabellos!" Steed protested. "No hallucinatory properties. If you must blame something, blame the heat." He gave her a broad smile. "And I've got a cure for that." He displayed the ice bucket with the cold bottle inside.
"I knew you went for champagne," Emma said smugly.
Steed dug into the ice and pulled out a smaller pint bottle and jiggled it. "Chilled orange juice."
She smiled. "Mimosas!"
He carefully opened the champagne so as not to spill any, expertly staggering the cork to release the pressure. Then he sat immediately opposite her on the blanket and filled the two glasses to the halfway point. Emma leaned in and added the juice to the remaining half while he delicately swirled the mixture so as not to lose any bubbles.
"We're a perfect combination," Steed observed.
"I was just dreaming the same thing." She settled close enough that their legs touched.
He gave her a glass and raised his in toast.
"To mimsy borogroves," he said.
"Borogoves," Emma corrected. "To my trusty Steed." She clinked her glass against his and gave him a winsome smile.
"May I never have to face an adventure without him."
-oOo-
THE END
-oOo-
Credits
Black Tower lightning generator designed by Philo Jupiter
Black leather G-string provided by Mei-Ling Xiong
TrotFast™ Hoofoaccelerator courtesy of the Brindleshire Research Association
Cameo by Rita Fox as the Red Fox
Ursula Leov as the Queen Bee
Cadmon Cephalus as the Septapus (Heptapus)
B. Shifter as the Hermit
Tara King as the White King
Asti Spumante (X2) as the Twin Terriers
Cathy Gale (nee Bishop) as the White Bishop
Vasily Dmitriov as the Black Knight
Peter Peel (nee Pehlovich) as the Black Rook
Emma Peel as Miss Ryder
and
John Steed as the Horse
-oOo-