Lunch for Three

Today I woke with my passion burning as if none of my interludes had sated a grain of it. I wanted minxie and to have her alone was consuming in my every moment. I did something that I had not done for many years I revealed myself openly, an event which might have been construed as an emotion if it had not been attached to me. I decided that since minxie wished to act like a little mistress from the suburbs she would be treated thusly and I ambled down to the local florists to pick up the largest most virulent bouquet I could obtain and subsequently drove up to her home to surprise her.

Her mother after answering the door and paling considerably left me in the clutches of their housekeeper, an ex Russian discus thrower who looked like she wouldn’t mind throwing me into the garden next door. Minxie then came into the drawing room only to greet me with a scowl that was heaven to observe and sent a tingle of sheer delight shivering into my loins. She attempted to avoid my invitation to lunch but I had made it apparent that I would brook no decline and after glaring intently in her mother’s direction she relented.

However my glorious plan of a little tęte-ŕ-tęte was rudely thwarted by her mother, this vacant blob whose fluttery comments were so vague she barely could finish a sentence, this creature inserted herself firmly between us and remained there the entire afternoon. Had I not been in the grips of such a compelling passion I would have been amused by viewing exactly where minxie gets her impudence from but instead I could only comfort myself with the occasional touch beneath the table and once I was able to stroke her arm with my fingertips while her mother perused the menu.

She was such a delight with her innocent remarks concealing barbs veiled enough pass by her mother yet pointed enough to get my attention. The luncheon ended without event and although I did not get what I had wanted I did get what I needed and that was some contact with my darling minx.

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