Is this party still on? Why hasn't everyone paired off by now?
Last I remember, two people were on fire... and some random guy was peering down my shirt... a few have danced.. but I think there is too much commotion...
grrrrr... i'll be in the dungeon if anyone needs me. i'm going to wait this day out down there. where all those oak barrels are.
Hmm, where's Penbury or Pennzoil or whatever his name is when you need him?
It's PENBERTHY, if you please !
It seems I hear a faint tapping sound coming from the cellar, I must go investigate.
dagmaraka wrote:grrrrr... i'll be in the dungeon if anyone needs me. i'm going to wait this day out down there. where all those oak barrels are.
you've got a dungeon?
i'll have to see if i can sneak out...
Good Lord !!! She's drunk the cellar dry, and is singing some sort of Gypsy love song. I'd better lock her in, for her own safety.
(Scrolls back to Brooklyn's post for the third time today, smiling with anticipation...)
Happy Valentine's Day, my darling! See you soon (like tonight when I close my eyes :wink:).
<Brooke and Kicky sneak out of the A2K closet and tip-toe away. They share a long, sloppy, disgustingly wet, messy kiss, and then, after wiping their respective faces off with Kicky's handkerchief, they go their separate ways once again, two snickering sillouettes disappearing into the night...>
Ahhhh, Pimberley...ve're aloooone in ze dungeoon. Zat iz maaaahveloose. Nov hev a zip of zis here liguere and I vil teach you a Gypsy dance.
I can't resist a damsel in distress... As the old saying goes, "When in Droitwich, get it while you can. "
<Grabs bottle of pre-war Wolfschmidt.>
<Kicky sneaks back in, camera in hand, and sets it up in an inconspicuous place in a dark corner. He presses the record button and as the camera begins filming the two late-night lovers, he sneaks off again, smiling at the extortion money he hopes to get for this...>
I suggest we move from this dank cellar to one of the "adventure" rooms on the third floor.
aye, aye, captain. i see adventure on the palm of your hand.
Scarcely visible under the haircoat.
A clear case of self-abuse.
Oh, no need for self-abuse. Let Dag do it.
