Romance Novel - A collective effort

Miriam Gloria and Christina were taken aback, but Raina stepped forward. Pointing at Christina, she said, "She is." The funny-looking gnome stared at her. Then, holding his left foot with his right hand, he began jumping up and down. "Mistress Raina!" he rasped. "It's you!"

Raina laughed. It was Gobbledygook. What was he doing back here in the States? They had spent the past year running a gnome training facility in the Galapagos Islands. The two former partners embraced, then picked their noses. Gnome greetings were always offputting to strangers, and M-Glo and Christina were no exceptions. They slowly backed away.

"It's okay! He's on our side!" Raina assured them.

"And, what of Gimlet, my twin? Have you seen him? He's supposed to be here, too!" the gnome asked anxiously.

The smile on Raina's face faded. She would have to tell him about the sad turn of events at the Lake McMansion that had led to his brother's coma and death.

But she'd save that for later, for now she wanted sex and nothing to interrupt it. So she said, "We have urgent business, Gob, can we catch up with you at breakfast, or even in say an hour?"

Gob nodded emphatically and escorted them to Reception. He bowed deeply and hooking his left elbow with his right foot, intoned, "I will see all three lovely ladies at breakfast on the lanai at 10:00 a.m. I sincerely and severely need to speak with Christina. Until then, enjoy. Kindest Regards. Warmest Wishes (except those who wish to be excluded)." And with that, he disappeared. Yes, disappeared. As in a puff of smoke. In front of their very eyes.

Astonished, Christina and M-Glo stared at Raina, who merely waved it off and said "That's really no big deal; we all learned to do that by age 3." And she got the key from Reception and led them to their hot-sex-making room. (This is a romance, after all).

Miriam Gloria and Christina were nonplussed. "What do you mean, 'we' learned to do that? Funny, you don't look like a gnome," M-Glo said.

"I'm only half gnome," Raina replied. "On my mother's side." And as she removed her royal blue jumpsuit and GoGo boots, the other two could see the truth of it for themselves. And it made them want her even more.

Which was somewhat odd.

But not entirely unexpected, as it was a Thursday.

Somewhere South of Duluth, Ronald cried out, "This tractor's too slow!"

Echo stared at him. "Shoulda taken the Porsche."

"Perhaps we can get a trade-in. Here, I'll just pull into this conveniently located nearby Subaru dealership." he murmured, totally oblivious to the fact that you can't buy a Porsche at a Subaru dealership. Unless you know the manager, and the manager is a gnome.

On Thursdays.

They doffed their kit in the twinkling of an eye and the three of them jumped onto the kingsize bed and started *******g each other between the ***s with their ******s and ******s and it wasn't long before a chorus of low moanings, gaspings and howlings could be heard on the car park.

"That sounds like the spring equinox night at Eleusis to me," a passing classical scholar said to the archbishop he had befriended at the evolution theory symposium: smirking tentatively to see what the His Reverence's reaction would be. "I have read about the goings on at Eleusis," said the Archbishop, "and wondering what suchlike sounded like coming out of underground vaults with the incense smouldering and the drums beating a steady jungle rythm to accompany a wailing pipe and er er........his voice trailed off and he drifted into a mild reverie. He adjusted his chasuable through his trouser pocket, he dressed to the left, and laconically continued, "I never could see what they see in it myself. It's rather like ice-cream salesmen selling ice-cream to each other don't you think Professor? Our Creator, whose Divine Wisdom we are unable to fully comprehend, provided them with the ideal marketing strategy that no scientist would ever have come up with in an eternity of eternities." "That's very true," the Professor replied looking a trifle abashed, his having been wrung out twice previously and was likely in process for a third attempt, "how can they humiliate each other as they do with men, it would be undignified. All the joy in life, if my experience is anything to go by, is cast aside", the Professor said, having an inner chuckle at his fortunate choice of expression. "They like tormenting men most. I once asked one why she did such exasperating and annoying things and she said, 'I like tormentin' yah' with her eyes blazing defiantly." "Did she get an opportunity to torment you my dear?" the Archbishop asked, raising one eyebrow and peering closely at the side of his face over his gold-rimmed spectacles. "You don't want to know Bish," the Prof replied. "That bad was it?" his companion replied, "but that makes my point don't you see? We have refined tormentation to a fine art. The DIY industry." He chucked inwardly at his witty riposte to the "cast aside" sneer earlier and wondered whether his vague hints had suggested to the academic that there might be more to Eleusis than simply knowing the word.

They sat down on a bench to share a half bottle of 1792 Ridgemont Reserve which the Archbishop produced from beneath his gowns. "It's subsiding" the Professor said, they are running out of gas." "And,"---- the Archbishop paused pregnantly to think up a suitable trope, --"they can hardly send each other down to B&Q for one of those ceiling brushes which has the facility of spreading paint all down the arm as soon as it touches the ceiling. So they will soon be at a loose end and looking for mischief. "

Totally oblivious to the Professor and the Archbishop who were eyeing each other in the parking lot, the three women were deep in the throes of passion.

"Oh my God!" breathed Miriam Gloria. "I never knew it could be so good with women!" This was her first experience with women, not to mention half-gnomes, and the lop-breasted former trophy wife was loving every minute of it. The silkiness of their skin, the delicate touches...and unlike sex with Rafe, there was no farting.

Christine rolled over and sighed, wiping her wet fingers on the satin sheets. She had wanted Miriam Gloria since the first time she saw her languidly lounging on the verandah at the Lake mansion. And now, with her closely cropped hair, she was even more desirable. Christina liked women who knew what they wanted, and M-Glo was exactly that.

Raina and Miriam Gloria could not keep their eyes off each other, and who could blame them? Raina had never made love to a woman with one C-cup breast and one FF-cup. It was intoxicating, even to a half-gnome who was used to kinky sex. That came with the territory, after all, for a creature with two vaginas.

It was as close as monogamy gets.

... but for twice the fun.

"I'm hungry!" declared Christina. "And for something of, erm, substance." she said, just to quell any other suggestions.

Christina could see the professor and archbishop sitting on a bench sharing a bottle.

"Let's go 'torment' those two men," suggested Christina. "Maybe they have some good food to go with the booze they are drinking."

In that seminal moment, the thought of romance took hold.

"Hey up Bish," the Prof said, giving His Eminence a nudge with his free elbow, "a flange is trotting over here sporting a cocky mien. Hide the bottle".

"Rightieo." his Eminence replied, smirking slightly. "Do you think she will address us?"

Christina minced towards them pouting provocatively.

"Perhaps she is seeking your blessing Bish," the Prof grinned sheepishly.

"Or your's," the Archbishop sniggered.

"Hello my little chickadee," the Prof said to her, raising his eyebrows speculatively, "what's cooking?"

The Archbishop contemplated the clouds as the Prof's wattles trembled.

"Nothing's cooking," replied Christina, batting her eyelashes. "In fact, that's the problem. The three of us ladies have nothing to eat, and we're positively starving!"

Now that she was standing face-to-face with the Professor, Christina could not help noticing how deep and blue his eyes were, and rimmed with thick blond lashes. His eyes and his accent reminded her of her first love, a college graduate instructor in Criminal Investigations who had been her instructor and mentor. If not for him, she would never have wound up in this profession.

As she stood there reminiscing, the Professor took a lighter from the pocket of his threadbare tweed jacket, lit a cigarette, and offered it to her with an old, familiar gesture. The light slowly dawned...

"N-N-Nigel?" Christine stuttered. "Nigel Happenstance? Is that you?"

The Professor smiled. He had never forgotten this particular student.

This had a lot to do with the way she had read him his Miranda rights during foreplay.

He knew he'd had the right to remain silent. Fortunately, that had not included moaning.

"You two know each other?" the Archbishop said, "it's a small world indeed."
"Oh yes Bish," the Prof replied, "Christina was a star pupil of mine. She got A plusses in all her essays and exams. Of course I filled in all the blank sheets of paper she handed in myself and threw away the ones with little doodles on them.
"Naturally", the prelate murmured as he undertook a sideways study of her perfectly formed body with extra care applied to her shapely legs and the provocative smooth white surfaces of her insteps which the shoes she had on showed off to best effect. "I presume you arranged one on one tutorials for her."
"Yes, of course," Happie sniggered sheepishly. "She was very eager to learn in those days."
Looking mock serious and stern with a sort of half-assed laconic disinterest the Archbishop turned to his companion and said "I hope you didn't give too many secrets away. It can be a real problem if they start too early in life with that sort of thing. They've been known to cut swathes through the ministerial classes with tactics of that nature. We don't put all that effort into domesticating them for no reason Professor. Know what I mean? "
"Vaguely", the prof replied airily, "you mean like choirs of them in white smocks singing "Oh Come All Ye Faithful" with their Moms and Pops beaming in the pews.
"Along those lines Nige, yes," the Archbishop said wearily, " but it's not quite as simple as that."
"I'll bet it's not," the prof said, sucking air between his clenched teeth enough for there to be a faint hissing noise. But what are you up to these days Christina, my little forensic specimen?", he went on, turning to her and smiling that smile she had loved so much in her formative years.

Should I read this? I wonder. BM

I'm trying to get a chaotic and nonsensical effort at a Romantic story onto the stocks Mac.

You could contribute. You are a gardener who happens to be passing by the scene I've set. "Ere! " you say, " 'as yer 'oliness chucked this empty bottle on the grass?"

And away you might go into an argument with the Archbishop. The situation is pregnant with possibilities. You have two chaps, tiddly, and an active lesbian. There are two more lesbians inside the motel. They have taken to evil ways which the two chaps have witnessed through an open window. It is post "recital" euphoria mood. Until you arrive with your litter stick and plastic bin liner.

The brush was nigh on impenetrable. He struggled ahead, hand on the trigger.

Who? What brush? It can't be a yard brush or a toothbrush. It can't be the vegetation because it's a posh motel and the lawns are like bowling greens and it can't be the other brush because they are all eager beavers. Nobody's struggling. If the trigger's on the litter stick and the bin liner is in his other hand where's the brush.

How can we write a Romantic novel with tripe like that lol?

Birds soared.