Chastity went quietly to pack her bag. She had no choice! There was no way anybody would believe her over Gladys. Her stepmother had told everyone she was mentally disabled in order to explain why a woman her age would be content scrubbing up orphan vomit all day long. But the truth was, Chastity would do anything to stay close to Miracle and Marvel.
To make matters worse, Gladys had destroyed all the records relating to the twins’ birth. Oh, if only she hadn’t consented to this pretense! If only she’d been strong enough to stand against the shameful stigma of being that lowliest of lepers in their quaint but friendly hamlet near Piddlehinton, which lay on the road between White Lackington and Higher Waterston: an unwed mother. If only she’d been daring enough to break away and seek her fortune with her darling babies in the comparative metropolis of Bramblecombe.
But Chastity was not known for her strength. Quite the contrary.
She removed her hair net to pack it. Perhaps Cesar would want her to work in his kitchens in addition to taking care of the twins. It was only right that she pay for the shameful way she had yielded to him. Only a whore would have acted in such a way! She bowed her slender neck, and the weight of her mass of titian curls spilled forth in a glorious profusion only rivaled by the autumnal majesty of the trees in Bloomington, Indiana on, say, October 23rd.
Chastity gazed at her reflection in the mirror and instead of a bedraggled servant, she saw her image as she’d been the night of the ball superimposed over the top. Oh, it had started so beautifully, but she should have known that anything that began in trickery could only end badly, like asking a blind man to hold her dog’s leash for a minute, when the dog in question was really just a furry seat cover full of rotten tomatoes and packing peanuts. Despite regrets too numerous to mention (even though they in fact numbered nine) she lost herself in memories. Her mind drifted away, lost in the magical twinkle of fairy lights.
Two years before…
“I can’t do this,” Chastity protested to her friend. “They’ll never believe I belong there, Ferris. The Annual Friends of the Orphanage Ball is far too grand an occasion for me. Ever since Papa died, Stepmama has made it clear that she’ll find a way to cut off my school funds if I get in her way. She’ll be furious if she catches me!” She tugged fitfully at the silver lame΄. “And I’m… too small on top to wear this dress. It’s showing my chest!”
“What chest?” Ferris asked cheerfully. “You look like a broomstick. Now quit complaining while I finish these princess seams. Just don’t raise your arms and nobody will ever know the difference.”
What could Chastity do? She had no choice; she never won arguments with Ferris, who was everything she would never be: voluptuous, bold, and beautiful. If Ferris thought she should crash the ball, then she’d crash it. Perhaps she could find a quiet corner to hide for an hour or two. All she really wanted to do was quietly finish her Geology program, but nobody ever asked what she wanted.
Hours later, she felt even sorrier for herself as she mounted the white marble stairs to the private club where the event was being held. Chastity checked to make sure her disguise was fully in place. Yes, she still had on the tiara. Nobody would recognize her now!
The other women all had glamorous escorts, but who would ever look twice at such a tiny, petite little woman like herself? Men wanted curves, not coltish angles. These massive steps were more than twice the length of her tiny feet, and the gown was narrow at the bottom, so she struggled with her arrival.
“At this rate I will never make it to the top,” she muttered.
“Allow me, signora?” The dusky man’s accented voice sent a chill down her spine.
“I… I’m not married,” she stammered, overcome by the pure vision of manly beauty that had manifested beside her. She set her fingers, light as a dove’s wing, against the black sleeve of his jacket, unless of course said dove had hit a window moments before.
“No?” His tone became rich with satisfaction. “Such a fiery English rose… the men of your country must be blind.”
“Well, some are,” she said, confused that he would want to talk about disabilities on such a romantic night. It must be a defect in her tiny delicate person that made men’s thoughts turn away from passion. “Some are deaf. Others have lost limbs and what-not. I understand yet others are born with bits missing—”
The man threw back his head and laughed with such vigor that Chastity’s eyes were drawn to the rugged bulge in his trousers. “Your sense of humor, signorina, it is…affascinare.” He lifted her delicate wrist to his beautifully molded mouth. “You enchant me. Will you permit me to escort you to tonight’s function? Lamentably, my date had to cancel at the last minute, for she needed to groom her poodle.”
This couldn’t be happening, not to shy, diminutive Chastity Bliss. They’d made up such a cruel rhyme to taunt her with at school: “Chastity Bliss! Chastity Bliss! Gonna die before she’s kissed!” She gazed way up at him, taking in his strong shoulders and chiseled features. Why, she was pretty sure she’d seen his nose on a coin somewhere. Maybe one of those golden wrapped ones. Those were delicious. It had to be a sign!
***
While the tiny minx considered his invitation—as was proper—for only a whore would go with the first man who asked her, Cesar Machismo gazed down at her succulent yet dainty breasts. They looked to him like two tiny infants wrestling beneath a shiny space blanket. He had a great fondness for shiny space blankets, having grown up watching Buck Rogers reruns as a child. In fact, there were only two things he liked better than shiny space blankets: baby food and women, generally in that order.
He had never seen a woman who could match her for pure radiance. Lust surged through him like improperly cooked carrots forced through a colander. If he did get her in his arms and soon, the pulp of his love would pop with a terrible squelch. And his trousers felt tight too.
“I suppose I’d like to escort you,” she said, timid as a shy hare who was about to be turned into a particularly plebian fricassee.
Escort! His heart fell. Only a slut would use such a word to describe her company. She must be yet another gold-digger, lying in wait for him. Someone must have told her he couldn’t resist coming to the aid of a lady in distress, for he was every inch (especially the best inches) an Italian gentleman.
But no! It was a truth fit to break his lonely but insanely wealthy heart. Despite her dainty magnificence, her fragile features and her perky yet lush breasts, she was nothing but a dirty whore. On the plus side, it meant he could take her outside during the appetizer course and bang her in the shrubberies. His wee general saluted the idea.
Even knowing what sort of woman she was, he felt himself moved by the way she struggled to mount the giant stairs. She was so tiny! So fragile! He was reminded of a dainty bird trembling in the palm of his hand.
Overcome, Cesar tucked her beneath his arm and carried her the rest of the way. She smelled deliciously like the apple cobbler he’d been experimenting with for his line of gourmet baby food, and it was all he could not to take a bite right out of her then and there.
“Would you like to dance, signorina?”
She peered up at him through a tumbled red fringe with eyes as sweet and guileless as a vat of blueberry puree. Even the ridiculous false tiara she wore amid her tousled curls made him think of bedsport. “I don’t know how.”
“I will teach you,” purred Cesar. “Everything you need to know, mi tartufo di amore.”
And so they danced. Slowly, he began to realize she had no idea who he was. Her artless chatter entranced him. Perhaps she was not without conscience, decency or morals after all, unlike so many of the dirty whores who had come before her, although never before him. He must have one deliciously sweet kiss from her full yet innocent mouth.
“May I show you the gardens?” He breathed the question into her shell-like ear, only to find that was a particularly vexing accessory.
Meanwhile, his date peered up at him in confusion. “You like my earrings? My friend Ferris said it made me look like a mermaid. Oh, yes,” she added hastily. “The gardens. Please!”
Oh yes! The shell earrings, silver dress, creamy skin, Titian hair and at-sea expression did make her look like a mermaid. This woman could surely lure sailors to their doom, and Cesar felt himself falling. He’d never met anyone like this enchantress.
They walked outside together, hand in hand. The stars looked like crushed diamonds on black velvet overhead, which assumes anybody would be stupid enough to crush diamonds. It was a warm night, but Cesar used the pretext of body heat to draw her close.
He’d had such a good intentions, but when his lips touched hers, he was maddened in a fit of lust. Cesar moaned uncontrollably as he ran his tongue against the sealed virginal seam of her lips. Oh, an angel! She did not even know how to kiss properly.
That made him want to screw her sideways.
He lost all control of himself, yanking at her dress, and ravishing her breasts with his mouth like a teething toddler. The woman whimpered, soft little sounds that could have been arousal or distress. Cesar decided that as long as she didn’t actually say no, it must be the former.
Her underpants tore in his hands. How did that happen?! He’d only meant to kiss her, like the delicate flower she was. When he lifted this tiny dainty female into his arms and impaled her on his rampant rod, she sobbed in ecstasy. That meant she felt the connection too, body to soul! He thrust quickly, utterly undone. Her tiny hands dug into his shoulders, urging him on. Cesar Machismo came, roaring his pleasure. The whole world ceased, just the two of them pinwheeling together in endless ocean of sweet creamery butter.
Afterward he breathed, “L’amo. Sarei piuttosto unto nel burro e nel miele e sinistro per le formiche di vivere un altro momento senza lei dal mio lato.”
***
Or so Chastity guessed, two years later. She’d run off, leaving only a jar of baby food behind from her handbag. She liked to eat the strained peas when she was nervous.
She started as someone banged on the door. “Are you done in there, idiot girl?! You better not be daydreaming again.”
Chastity hurriedly finished packing. She couldn’t imagine how her life could possibly get worse.
~The end of chapter two~
December 15th – Carolyn Jean posted chapter 1
December 17th – Tumperkin posts chapter 3
December 18th – Bettie Sharpe posts chapter 4
December 19th – Carrie Lofty posts chapter 5
December 20th – Meljean Brook posts chapter 6
December 21st – Kate Rothwell posts chapter 7
December 22nd – Lorelie Brown posts chapter 8
December 23rd – Dionne Galace posts all 8 chapters
The Italian Gourmet Baby Food Baron’s Ironically Pregnant Virgin Mistress will eventually be available for download through Amazon and Scribd. Story concept and project vision by Tumperkin; cover design: Bettie Sharpe.
Hope you enjoyed the free read above. How’s that for holiday awesome? Anyhow, welcome to the second day of Early Christmas. I’ve changed the rules a bit here. You’ll note I didn’t wrap up yesterday’s contest yet. I thought it would be more fun to let them all ride until Monday when I announce each day’s winner and then the grand prize winner. I haven’t announced what that prize will be yet, by the way. It’s good, trust me. Since this is the internet, as a profound weasel once said, you don’t need pants for the victory dance. But I’m getting ahead of myself.
Hope you enjoyed the free read above. How’s that for holiday awesome? Anyhow, welcome to the second day of Early Christmas. I’ve changed the rules a bit here. You’ll note I didn’t wrap up yesterday’s contest yet. I thought it would be more fun to let them all ride until Monday when I announce each day’s winner and then the grand prize winner. I haven’t announced what that prize will be yet, by the way. It’s good, trust me. Since this is the internet, as a profound weasel once said, you don’t need pants for the victory dance. But I’m getting ahead of myself. Today, when I’ve posted my master pastiche, who else could I possibly have on the blog except my co-conspirator Meljean Brook, who was kind enough to share a few words.
Top Five Reasons to Have a Guardian Over for the Holidays
5. They’re fast. Before you can say “Jingle Bells,” they’ll have your dishes washed, laundry folded, presents wrapped, and the holiday lights strung around the roof.
4. They’re good with their swords, so they can slay any unwelcome demons (or in-laws) who show up.
3. If you have kids that are out of school for the holiday and who are complaining that “Moooooommmmm, it’s so borrrrring! All of my friends go to exciting places on winter break!” you can ask your Guardian to take them on a trip through Hell. Chances are, next year they’ll be more than happy to stay at home.
2. Lose your Christmas tree decorations? No problem! Just have a Guardian form his wings, and stick him on top of the tree.
1. Holiday madness? Pffft. Have a Guardian fly you to a tropical island with a bikini and a suitcase full of books, make him shape-shift to look exactly like you, and send him home to let him deal with everything. And in January, when everyone asks where you got your tan and why you look so relaxed, just smile.Happy Holidays!
Meljean
Now it’s time for the squeeing. I’ve read all of her books now, even the anthologies. I can honestly say that DEMON ANGEL was the only one I didn’t love. (I found it by the way. Win! I cleaned out the hope chest at the foot my bed.) I realize this will come as a shock to some readers, but I still love Colin best. I’ve read Ethan and Jake, but Colin is still the big win for me, along with Savi. I’d have to put them in my top ten couples for 2008, in fact. Closer to the New Year, I’ll probably have to make up a list of my faves. I posted about her writing not long ago; read this for more squeeing.
Now I’m going to talk about something a little more general, which applies to Meljean as well. I’ll let you in on a little secret; for me, character is everything. I can forgive a lot in the name of compelling characters. If the writing is good (and hers is fierce), that’s even better. I’ve been known to be vastly entertained by books that don’t make a lick of sense when analyzed critically. I mean, obviously I prefer smart plotting (which Meljean has), but if I had to choose between an airtight plot with flat characters and a Swiss cheese story peopled with folks who glow with life… you know which I’m gonna choose.
Meljean is a smart writer. By which I mean, her books are not cotton candy. You’d better want something to sink your teeth into and spend several hours with. The dialog is clever and fast. The plotting is keen as a knife. But the artistry of her writing and the power of the characters is where she truly shines. When I read her , I sigh in admiration over the way she puts her words together. Vivid. Evocative. She is a hotly sensual writer — and I don’t just mean in the sex scenes. She uses language as if it’s foreplay, seducing the reader into her world, which is richly imagined and solidly built. Whew, this is just a mammoth post. So let’s call it here.
Want a Meljean Brook quad for Christmas? Ask for it. How? Simple. You’re a romance novel heroine and you’ve just found out your life is in terrible danger. But not to worry! You have your own Guardian to protect you. What’s he like?
Alternately, if you comment on the chapter, that also enters you in the contest. Good luck!
Cesar sounds HOT HOT HOT. Great chapter.
I would love to win Meljean’s quad. My hero would be around 6 ft, reddish blond hair, sexy crystal blue eyes, and very broad chest that just makes you want to jump up and latch on. He is very possesive and protective and omg is he hot between the sheets or against the wall or in the shower. Well there ya go thats my hero. Have a happy holiday.
My Guardian hero would be a dark brooding guy with a bad past as well as a bad attitude. He would have a good heart though it was encased in ice and I would help him melt that ice. My hero would still be dangerous and unpredictable but thats the way I would enjoy him. Never tame but oh so loving.
My Guardian would have a sultry accent, a brain, and one of those completely hot bodies that are only found on totally obsessed narcissistic gymrats–completely unrealistic in real life, but if it’s fantasy, I’d just eat ice cream off his washboard tummy 24-7.
My Guardian hero would be an Alpha male – a gentleman but use to having women pursue him so he does not understand his attraction to me – as I am not his usual type. I really do not want his help – so he will have to gentlely push me out of the way of danger before I get in over my hear. His controlling nature is really a protective one.
My Italian is weak and this is what FreeTranslation gave me:
“L’ hook. Sarei rather greased in the butter and in the honey and left for the ants of to live another moment without her from my side.”
I’m loving the story, ladies, and looking forward to the daily chapters!
My Guardian would be a tall, sexy, alpha male who is fiercely protective and willing to do anything for me. He would be an inventive, passionate lover who isn’t afraid to show me how he feels.
I would love her books and my Guardian would be an Alpha Male, love the alpha male type. Also he would have an edge to him and under all that brooding he would have a very big heart.
Great chapter–I like best the use of so, such and very, and whenever the narrator turns to the reader with an aside. Such a very dirty whore! LOL
I look forward to tomorrow’s installment.
If my guardian is anything like my muse, first of he is drunk most of the time. He does sober up from time to time and is actually quite helpful, but don’t hold your breath waiting for that to happen.
You know, I think the first part of the movie Hancock, when Hancock is drunk, might be an biography of my Guardian.
Thanks for another great contest!
Kaite
My Guardian would have black hair and emerald colored eyes. He’d be lean, muscular, and tall. He’d have a tendency to brood, but when he smiled it would light up the room. He’d have a wicked sense of humor. But above all, he would be protective and possessive of me – never letting me come to harm.
Meljean Brook is an author I have been dying to try, but for some reason I haven’t yet. I hear so many wonderful things about her books.
I’m not much of a writer, but i have to comment on the story.
I am laughing and enjoying it immensly! “screwed her sideways!” :)
“as guileless as a vat of blueberry puree”
I have no choice! I love this line. First time I’ve ever come across blueberry puree as symbolism. Hee!
“the pulp of his love would pop with a terrible squelch” LMAO!!
My guardian would have a very big wing spand so he can fly like the wind and keep my warm at night with his wings. :D
You know what they say about guardians with big wings, KB…
They make up for what is missing under their robes.
This looks like fun. I want to play!
Mine would be tall and lean, a little weedy, actually. His face would be sharp and angular; he’d have a bump on the bridge of his nose. His eyes would be a lovely smoky gray, but most people wouldn’t notice because of his glasses. He’d have a shock of brown hair that never did what he wanted it to. He’d be a bit geeky, but in a fiercely good way, smart as a whip and able to quote me love poems off the top of his head. He’d have a smashing sense of humor and he would, of course, laugh at all my jokes. But most importantly, he would think I was the best thing he’d ever seen.
oh that chapter was fun!!
I like everyone’s descriptions..Ann, I’ve always had a weak spot for the artsy poet type too (I think glasses are sexy. Plus, men could definitely learn a thing or two if they were brave enough to pick up a romance novel
Hmm..I think I would want mine to be very tall (I’m 5’10), with dark hair and a permanent five o’clock shadow. He should have green eyes that crinkled at the corner when he smiled, and a rich, deep voice that complemented his quirky sence of humor. He would also have a bike for when he’s not using his wings
Oh, and he also adore me!
grr for little typing errors that I only notice after I post *sigh*.
Mine would be angry, angry, angry, hate demons with every ounce of her being, and hurt the man she loves on purpose because to let him close would hurt her more.
I’m a character reader, too. I haven’t quite come up with one as brilliant as Cesar Machismo yet, but I will keep on trying…
To my consternation, my nipples hardened.
Oh wait, that was the last one. I’m just so glad that someone has come, roaring their pleasure.
Sigh. It was good for me, Ann. Thanks.
I just coming on being off yesterday and read Chapter one and laughing so hard at the end when he says “I’ll take all 3″ ROFL. And today the chapter on talking about her like food, LOL. I want Chapter 3 now
Cool on Meljean’s books! My hero in my romance story would be a strong and quiet one, like a cowboy. Having his danger look in protecting me, but too those eyes will say everything!
I think I’m writing like I was reading, LOL
My guardian hero would be a badass wiht a heart of gold
Not particularly bothered what he will look like but I am partial to dark and dangerous 
Oh my word! I’m sorry, I’m laughing so hard I can hardly type. I love this! :D
And my hero would be at least 6’3″ (since I’m 6’1″, with thick black hair, blue eyes and a body to rival…well, anywho, he’d be relatively cold on the outside, but inside he’d have a heart of yummy gooeyness, but only for me. :D
Chapter 2 = Win
OMG, that was fantastic!
mass of titian curls spilled forth in a glorious profusion only rivaled by the autumnal majesty of the trees in Bloomington, Indiana on, say, October 23rd
Not sure if I lost it there or “comparitive metropolis of Brambleton” but I didn’t stop laughing.
oh that chapter was great!
Lust surged through him like improperly cooked carrots forced through a colander.
This had me holding my belly I was laughing so hard! Can’t wait for chapter 3.
He is ruggedly handsome, patient and kind with abs of steel. He doesn’t have to do the dishes, he can magically make them clean again as well as the whole house. He adores me and all my little quirks. He keeps me safe and will love me until the end of time.
Deidre
He’s tall, dark, brooding and has a sense of humor. He’s got an arsenal and other cool gadgets.
Another chapter where the laughter never stopped. The location names were almost as funny as the characters’ names. And the details, such as the exact date, were fabulous. However, my favorite line has to be: “the pulp of his love would pop with a terrible squelch”. ROFL
As for my guardian, a tall, dark, and handsome man who is slightly nerdy/geeky with the body of a swimmer. He would also have a great sense of humor and be caring, thoughtful, and protective.
He would have red hair, a sense of humor and great legs. Funny, that sounds like the hubby.
He lets me try to save myself before swooping me in and doing it when I’m most frustrated. Then he makes me laugh it off before taking me out to my favorite restaurant to celebrate.
*snort* ROTFLMAO *snort* Reading this at work is very hard to do since my cube-mate keeps looking at me strangely as I snort to keep from LOL.
My Guardian is misunderstood and totally kick-ass. Very action oriented and says very little. He’s 6′ tall, dark hair with green eyes and wicked grin.
I know Rene has mentioned this line already – but Ann – She bowed her slender neck, and the weight of her mass of titian curls spilled forth in a glorious profusion only rivaled by the autumnal majesty of the trees in Bloomington, Indiana on, say, October 23rd is the best description of a heroine. It is only rivaled by the stars looked like crushed diamonds on black velvet overhead, which assumes anybody would be stupid enough to crush diamonds.
Really, TOO GOOD!
OMG, this is really starting to sound like the Harlequins from the 80′s my mom used to read…which explains why my folks are divorced because really, how could my shy, sweet Dad ever hope to measure up to someone like Cesar? LOL!!!
My fantasy guardian would be grumpy,cranky and a real hard-ass with cold, menacing eyes and a really big, um, sword!
Why thank you. I’m pretty fond of the “titian profusion” bit myself. All the chapters are awesome, though. I’d be hard-pressed to pick a fave.
My Guardian? I’ve always been fond of the quiet serious type. Very intense and focused on whatever is most important to them at the moment. Asian, not romantic, but knows what to say to make me melt. Knows how to cook, likes literature and has a sarcastic sense of humor. Glasses are a plus, but not necessary.
And I”m loving this story. I’m linking it on my personal blog on LJ.
My Guardian is like Michael. No wait, my Guardian IS Michael.
I trust I’ve made myself clear.
Loved your entry, by the way. I mean really, who would crush diamonds?
Kati – I also particularly liked the roaring homage to The Improbably Tall Greek Millionaire’s Passive-Aggressive Secretary-Bride or whatever the hell that was called. Great chapter! Dying to read more. Parody Presents are as good as real Presents!
My Guardian would be fun but with a practical streak. Oh dang, it looks like I married him. ;)
My Guardian would be tall, dark, and dangerous. He would be extremely handsome, a bit brooding, and did I mention dangerous. He would be totally devoted. I would love to win Meljean’s quad!
I fell in love with Colin when reading Demon Moon. I also like Jake but Colin Rules.
So my guardian would always be Colin.
And your chapter is so funny. My mom just look at me with funny expression since I am laughing in front of the computer.
Well, I’m hesitant to say this (and I’m not sure why/how this happened) – but I haven’t read any of Meljean’s books. Eek.
Er if I had a guardian (even though I’m not 100% on it) -I’d want him to be huge. And scary. And threatening to everyone but me. And competent and smart and sexy as hell.
And of course able to kick the ass of whatever was threatening me.
As for the chapter. Heh. Mockery of HPs – love em but I’ve got a sense of humor too. Hilarious.
That chapter was HILARIOUS! I have to third (or fourth or whatever it is now) loving the line about her titian curls only being rivaled by the trees in Bloomington, Indiana on October 23rd. That one made me laugh the most.
Is this day still on too, well if not I still get to describe my guardian.
Let’s see, raven black hair and piercing green eyes. He would know me by heart, and do everything to protect me. I don’t want him just to kick ass, no he needs to have some elegance in it, yes I am thinking of a sword hehe. And at the same time as he would be a perfect gentleman, sweet, nice and funny, he does have a darker side to him.
I’m going to wait until all the chapters are up before I read your round robin, but I’m very much looking forward to it. :D
My guardian would be a bit geeky with a wicked sense of humor (instead of brooding), but big and mean enough to kick demon-ass without problem. And, he’d trust me not to be TSTL.
My guardian would be able to cook up a delicious coq au vin. When I am tired, he will give me a fantastic foot rub. When it is snowy, he will shovel the driveway and clean my car windows off.
As for the danger part, I can stand up for myself.
(I really need to read these- I suspect the short story I read in an antho was not long enough to give me the right taste!)
What does my guardian look like? Dark, hunky, a bit broody, strong willed (i know, asking for trouble- but I love that in a man!), intelligent, and self deprecating never hurts! Oh yeah he’s gotta be in love with me body, soul, mind and spirit, naturally.
My guardian: He’d be strong (not necessarily physically), extremely intelligent, efficient and capable. Someone that is completely independent and who prefers to demonstrate his affections with real actions (whether in the battlefield or at home!). I’d be able to show him how to have some fun and he’d be able to melt through my trust issues with his quiet strength.
How he looks like? Does it matter, after all those qualities?
My guardian would be tall and muscular with lots of combat skills. He would have paranormal powers so he could suspect danger before it can harm me. He would need to only look at the enemies and they would forget what they were intending to do to me. My guardian would be so kick ass and noone would ever even mess with me.
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