Message-ID: <52872asstr$1137744601@assm.asstr.org>
From: Souvie <souvie@mindspring.com>
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Subject: {ASSM} "Lord of the Manor" (MF, flash)
Lines: 53
Date: Fri, 20 Jan 2006 03:10:01 -0500
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*A flash story of 300 words. Gary supplied the opening sentence, John
supplied the proofreading. My first writing in over a year. It feels
good... sort of. - Souvie*



"Lord of the Manor"
copyright January 2006 by Souvie



"Sic Semper Tyrannis - Thus Always to Tyrants," thought John the
Tyrant as he basked in the afterglow of a particularly vigorous
session of sex, "is a motto I could learn to embrace."

"Did you say something, m'lord?"

He remembered the girl beside him and smacked his lips with renewed
anticipation. He hefted his sizeable bulk atop her and buried his face
in her ample assets. She giggled and wiggled, eager to play ... again.

The door swung open with considerable force. The lovers sprang apart,
the girl looking guilty and not a little frightened.

"I leave ye alone fer two days, and look wot you've got yerself into?"
A woman of many years and twice as many wrinkles stood with hands on
hips. "It's a good thing me mum wasn't near as sick as she said she
was."
She bustled around the room, kicking her way though discarded rabbit
bones and moldy pieces of bread, gathering up tossed-aside clothing
and overturned wine tankards, and muttering under her breath.

Her eyes turned on the girl who huddled on the bed, trying to make
herself invisible. "Get out of here!" she ordered, tossing the girl's
clothing in the vicinity of the door.

The poor serving girl scurried off the bed, grabbing up her clothes to
cover her nakedness, and escaped the chamber. She stopped in the
corridor, catching her breath and pulling on her clothes with jerky
movements.

From inside the room came the sound of something shattering against
the wall. "Stupid, lousy, good-fer-nothing. I should have listened to
me da when he warned me ye'd be nothin' but trouble."

"But, lambchop, let me explain...."

"I'll hear nothin' of yer excuses!"

"Yes, dear, wotever you say."

The serving girl giggled quietly as she bounced down the stairs. John
the *Tyrant* indeed!

-- 
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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