The voice. Atonal. Vaguely french.Helloooo? My lovely panicked, jumped into my arms and squealed. NO NO ! I mustn't. Pleeeaeaassee!!!
I held her closely. We were alone and in danger, exactly what my desires consume. She was nothing that couldn't be dealt with by a slow coddle and several buckets of ice. I could manage a quiet noise to sooth her.
Helloooooo?? so suspiciously. I cried with laughter and dropped my lovely and closed the door on her as she lay covered in herself and with a rather soft carpet beneath. The voice below was quiet now and not unlike Gertrude Stein.
I took three steps down the carpeted steps that led into my foyer which I pronounce without the R as a sign of majesty over most of my friends who haven't the courage to explore new and interesting pronunciations of things. I remained confident, forceful in my steps. My lovely waited. Step and step and the creak of the floorboards kept her silent and I could feel her still fear her inner panadomium her consecutive breathless heartattacks -- it's well understood between us though unspoken it might be we are both in a very scary situation and no one would deny this but someone who wasn't there and had not a clue, not one single clue as to the suspense that drew out between us for those ten seconds.
From the bottom of the stairs, I caught her odor. I leapt, ascot in hand, at her neck. My lovely waited.