Post by nicolababola on Feb 23, 2010 15:48:15 GMT 10
Title: Bikini
Rating: PG-13
Length: 937 words
Competitor: Joren
Round/Fight: 1/E
Summary: Joren has some unusual thoughts on a certain summer day
“Hurry up Zahir! You move like a decrepit grandmother!”
“Patience is a virtue, Joren. One would assume that your own grandmother would have taught you that.”
Joren didn’t have anything more to say to that, except perhaps a low grumble beneath his breath. He, Zahir, and a few of the other squires had gone to the swimming hole within the confines of the forest, for it was one of the hottest days of the year and they wanted to spend what was left of their short summer break in Corus relaxing a bit. The others had already left for lunch in the dining hall, and if they didn’t catch up soon, Joren was sure that the desserts would be completely gone. He’d be damned if he didn’t get his hands on the strawberry short cake.
He was thinking about his favorite sweet, and what he would do to Zahir if he didn’t get any, when they hear voices approaching the swimming hole. Female voices to be precise. At which point Zahir and Joren looked at each other, and simultaneously jumped behind the nearest shrubbery cover.
“How much longer, Lady Kel? We’ve been walking for 15 minutes already.”
“We’re practically here, Lalasa. What happened to the whole ‘patience is a virtue’ thing I’ve been talking about?”
Well if it isn’t the Lump and her handy-dandy little maid, Joren thought. The last thing he wanted to do was to hang around for his nemesis and her servant to strip, but Zahir seemed to have other ideas. He was crouching on his haunches, peering through the bushes like a peeping tom. Joren started to wonder just how much Zahir had gotten since he’d become a squire. Certainly not much, if he thinks he’s getting a first class show by watching the girl-page.
“Zahir, come off it! We don’t have time to spy on the Lump and her maid!” Joren whispered in the lowest audible voice he could manage. It certainly wouldn’t do for his reputation to be caught leering at the so-called bane of his existence. But the only acknowledgement of his words was a small gesture as Zahir held up one pointed finger against his lips, signaling for quiet. And Joren rolled his eyes.
“Lady Kel, we didn’t even remember to bring a change of clothes. We can’t possibly swim in these cotton shirts, can we?” Lalasa was tired from the walk and heat. She’d love to jump in the water, but she wasn’t about to waltz back to the castle soaking wet. And she wasn’t about to swim naked either.
“Of course not! Do you think this is some sort of wet t-shirt contest?” Kel replied as she began to take of her boots, and then her socks, and then her belt, until she reached her shirt and breaches.
“Lady Kel, what’s a wet t-shirt contest? And what in the goddess are you doing?”
At this point, Joren turned to see what the big fuss was about. Immediately upon turning his hormone driven head, all other bodily functions ceased, and all Joren could think about was Kel prancing around in her…
“…Underwear! Oh goodness my lady, what if someone walks by? What would they think?” cried Lalasa.
“If I worried about what people thought, I wouldn’t be at the palace training for knighthood, let alone at this swimming pool. Besides, it’s not underwear. It’s called a bikini.”
“A bikini?” Lalasa replied, letting the foreign word roll off her tongue to the best of her ability.
“Yes. A bikini. It’s like swimwear for women. It’s quite popular in the islands just further west of the Yamani Islands.”
Who cares where they came from? Joren thought with amazement, and he soon found himself right alongside Zahir. Both were peering through the bushes for a better look at Kel and her so called bikini. She held out her arms and gave a little spin, trying to show Lalasa exactly how it worked. Joren trailed his eyes up and down her body. To his surprise, Kel’s skin was exceptionally tan with only a few bruises and scars because of her training. He wasn’t focused on that for too long though, for her taught stomach was quite enticing as well. And by the gods, her breasts (who would have thought she had something to hide under those tunics?) and her bottom gave a little bounce as she finished her twirl.
It was a bright yellow color. That sort of color on say, a ball gown, would look absolutely hideous. But on this particular attire (if you could call it that), it was somewhat attractive, eye-catching at the very least. It made him think of bananas. Bananas and their shapes. And this led him to think of other things, things he simply just doesn’t think about when picturing the girl page. But he was thinking about these things, and he wondered what would happen if he gave a simple tug to those strings that miraculously kept the entire outfit together.
“Oh come on Lalasa. What do you think? It can’t be that bad. Besides, it makes me feel kind of sexy.”
Under normal circumstances, the words sexy and Kel would never be in the same sentence. Under normal circumstances, Joren would scoff at the idea of the Lump as anything less than a girl who should have been born a boy. Now, however, the tables seem to have turned. He couldn’t bring himself to say anything, to utter even a sound. All he could do was stare.
And stare.
And stare some more.
I’m going to have to think of a new nickname.
Rating: PG-13
Length: 937 words
Competitor: Joren
Round/Fight: 1/E
Summary: Joren has some unusual thoughts on a certain summer day
“Hurry up Zahir! You move like a decrepit grandmother!”
“Patience is a virtue, Joren. One would assume that your own grandmother would have taught you that.”
Joren didn’t have anything more to say to that, except perhaps a low grumble beneath his breath. He, Zahir, and a few of the other squires had gone to the swimming hole within the confines of the forest, for it was one of the hottest days of the year and they wanted to spend what was left of their short summer break in Corus relaxing a bit. The others had already left for lunch in the dining hall, and if they didn’t catch up soon, Joren was sure that the desserts would be completely gone. He’d be damned if he didn’t get his hands on the strawberry short cake.
He was thinking about his favorite sweet, and what he would do to Zahir if he didn’t get any, when they hear voices approaching the swimming hole. Female voices to be precise. At which point Zahir and Joren looked at each other, and simultaneously jumped behind the nearest shrubbery cover.
“How much longer, Lady Kel? We’ve been walking for 15 minutes already.”
“We’re practically here, Lalasa. What happened to the whole ‘patience is a virtue’ thing I’ve been talking about?”
Well if it isn’t the Lump and her handy-dandy little maid, Joren thought. The last thing he wanted to do was to hang around for his nemesis and her servant to strip, but Zahir seemed to have other ideas. He was crouching on his haunches, peering through the bushes like a peeping tom. Joren started to wonder just how much Zahir had gotten since he’d become a squire. Certainly not much, if he thinks he’s getting a first class show by watching the girl-page.
“Zahir, come off it! We don’t have time to spy on the Lump and her maid!” Joren whispered in the lowest audible voice he could manage. It certainly wouldn’t do for his reputation to be caught leering at the so-called bane of his existence. But the only acknowledgement of his words was a small gesture as Zahir held up one pointed finger against his lips, signaling for quiet. And Joren rolled his eyes.
“Lady Kel, we didn’t even remember to bring a change of clothes. We can’t possibly swim in these cotton shirts, can we?” Lalasa was tired from the walk and heat. She’d love to jump in the water, but she wasn’t about to waltz back to the castle soaking wet. And she wasn’t about to swim naked either.
“Of course not! Do you think this is some sort of wet t-shirt contest?” Kel replied as she began to take of her boots, and then her socks, and then her belt, until she reached her shirt and breaches.
“Lady Kel, what’s a wet t-shirt contest? And what in the goddess are you doing?”
At this point, Joren turned to see what the big fuss was about. Immediately upon turning his hormone driven head, all other bodily functions ceased, and all Joren could think about was Kel prancing around in her…
“…Underwear! Oh goodness my lady, what if someone walks by? What would they think?” cried Lalasa.
“If I worried about what people thought, I wouldn’t be at the palace training for knighthood, let alone at this swimming pool. Besides, it’s not underwear. It’s called a bikini.”
“A bikini?” Lalasa replied, letting the foreign word roll off her tongue to the best of her ability.
“Yes. A bikini. It’s like swimwear for women. It’s quite popular in the islands just further west of the Yamani Islands.”
Who cares where they came from? Joren thought with amazement, and he soon found himself right alongside Zahir. Both were peering through the bushes for a better look at Kel and her so called bikini. She held out her arms and gave a little spin, trying to show Lalasa exactly how it worked. Joren trailed his eyes up and down her body. To his surprise, Kel’s skin was exceptionally tan with only a few bruises and scars because of her training. He wasn’t focused on that for too long though, for her taught stomach was quite enticing as well. And by the gods, her breasts (who would have thought she had something to hide under those tunics?) and her bottom gave a little bounce as she finished her twirl.
It was a bright yellow color. That sort of color on say, a ball gown, would look absolutely hideous. But on this particular attire (if you could call it that), it was somewhat attractive, eye-catching at the very least. It made him think of bananas. Bananas and their shapes. And this led him to think of other things, things he simply just doesn’t think about when picturing the girl page. But he was thinking about these things, and he wondered what would happen if he gave a simple tug to those strings that miraculously kept the entire outfit together.
“Oh come on Lalasa. What do you think? It can’t be that bad. Besides, it makes me feel kind of sexy.”
Under normal circumstances, the words sexy and Kel would never be in the same sentence. Under normal circumstances, Joren would scoff at the idea of the Lump as anything less than a girl who should have been born a boy. Now, however, the tables seem to have turned. He couldn’t bring himself to say anything, to utter even a sound. All he could do was stare.
And stare.
And stare some more.
I’m going to have to think of a new nickname.