Page 86 of Down and Dirty

“What does that mean?”

“That I’m impressed. You must be one… uh, fit woman.”

“Fit where?”

“Huh? Where you from, darlin’? You have an odd accent.”

“The Norselands.”

“Norway?”

“’Tis what I said. But you are the one with an odd voice. Where are you from?”

“Texas.”

“A country called Tax Us? How odd!”

He gaped at her for a second as if questioning whether she was barmy or not. She probably was, especially since she was actually considering finding herself another man for bedsport, just to see if what she had experienced with Zachary was the usual way things went betwixt men and women.

“How do you feel about orgasms?” she blurted out.

He choked on his mead. Then he smiled, a slow, lazy exercise that drew the dimple out nicely. “Did you say orgasms?”

“Yea, that is what I said. Dost have an ear wax problem?”

“No problem at all, sugar.”

“So, how do you feel about orgasms?”

“Mine or yours?”

She pondered that question. “Both. But I must have multiple ones, or it would not be worth the effort. Would it?”

“Baby, you and I are gonna get along just great. Let’s dance.”

“Oh, nay. I could not do that.”

People were flailing their arms and shaking their hips in a ludicrous manner to loud music that spoke of twisting and shouting.

“I’m not much for fast dancing, either. Oh, here comes a slow one.” Without a pause, the musicians started into a slower melody, with the one singer announcing, “Let’s get it on.”

Dill-land pulled her into his embrace and out onto the dancing arena. He immediately began swaying them back and forth in a shocking manner. Her breasts were pressed into his chest, and she could feel the ridge of his manpart against the joining of her braies. She felt nothing at all. Not the thrill of pleasure that surged through her body at just a look from Zachary. Not the ruching of her nipples at the brush of his shert. Not the wet pooling betwixt her thighs that she associated with foresport from Zachary. And this close dancing was definitely foresport, in her opinion.

She was doomed, Britta realized with a sigh. Zachary had ruined her for other men.

Dill-land was humming in her ear… in an attempt to make her grow lustsome, she supposed. All she wanted to do was laugh. His humming was unmelodic.

Smiling, she looked over Dill-land’s shoulder. Then looked again.

Zachary was sitting at a far table with his comrades-in-arms. And, most important, at his side was a black-haired woman staring at Zachary as if she’d just had multiple orgasms.

The loathsome lout! The randy jackass! The womanizing fornicator!

And he was staring back at Britta with equal dismay, glaring at Dill-land’s back. She saw him start to rise, but Cage and Slick took hold of his arms and shoved him back in his seat. They were talking earnestly to him. The black-haired wench was looking back and forth betwixt her and Zachary with a questioning frown.

Britta did the only thing a right-thinking woman could in the circumstances. She nuzzled her face into Dill-land’s neck and kissed his ear.

Dill-land growled his appreciation. And began to hum some more.