“Wake up, Master Buxton, wake up.” I felt a gentle slap upon my right cheek and then my left. “Here. Drink this.”
The mouth of a small bottle was pressed between my lips and cool sweet liquid flowed over my tongue and down my throat.
“Is that an antidote?” I asked.
“Antidote to what?”
I looked into the face above me. It was one of the most beautiful faces that I had ever seen. Very large brown eyes, like cow eyes, but in a good way; which is to say large and brown, and with long lashes. A cute little nose. Perfect lips.
“I’ve been poisoned.”
“How?”
“You are the most beautiful woman that I’ve ever seen. Kiss me quickly before I die.”
“What poisoned you?”
“Quickly, the kiss.”
“I don’t think I had better kiss you if you’ve been poisoned. I might get some of the poison on my tongue.”
“Don’t use your tongue. Just use your lips.”
“Well, that’s not really much of a kiss, is it?” quoth she.
“I like the way you think,” I said, sitting up. “If you didn’t know I was poisoned, what was that liquid you just gave me?”
“That was water from the well outside. It’s supposed to be naturally healthful.”
“I feel much better, but ‘naturally healthful,’ does not quite equal ‘antidote to poison’.”
“I ask again. With what were you poisoned?”
“That pie over there.”
The young woman got up from my side and walked across the room to where the remainder of the pie still sat. From my vantage point, I could see that, as beautiful as her face was, it was nothing compared to her body, especially that part of her body which she presented as she walked away across the room. In a word she was fetching, which is to say very attractive.
“Is this a disconsolateberry pie?” she asked.
“Yes. It was one of the finest buttocks I’ve ever had.”
“What?”
“I said it was one of the finest pies I’ve ever had.”
“Well you can’t poison somebody with disconsolateberries,” she said, walking back over to me and kneeling down. “They are a natural counteragent.”
“That’s very breast for me,” I said, getting up.
“What?”
“I said that’s very lucky for me.”
“They are full of natural antioxidants too,” said she.
“Is that good?”
She nodded. “Would you like that kiss now?”
Then it was my turn to nod, as I was suddenly but momentarily mute. She put her hand on my cheek and gave me one of the best kisses that I have had in my entire life. The only better ones that I can think of off the top of my head, which is to say within easy reach of my memory, are the kiss that I received from the Queen of Aerithraine, in whose company I once had the pleasure of spending a fortnight, and my cousin Tuki, who was the first girl I ever kissed and who was also a first-rate kickball player.
“What are you thinking about?” the beautiful young woman asked.
“Kickball.”
“Well, stop it. I want you to think about me.”
“I don’t even know your name, or how you found me, or how you know me, or what you want, or how you were able to squeeze into that dress, or how much pie is left.”
“My name is Megara Fennec, and I’ve been looking for you for more than a week. I want to be an actress in your play.”