The Colonel stroked his meticulous pencil-thin moustache as if in deep thought. His mouth opened with uncharacteristic hesitance and a few odd, strangled half-words crawled up from his throat.
Growing impatient with the handsome traveller’s attempts to collect himself, Mavis plopped down on a tiger skin divan, kicked off her fluffy teal mules and pulled a well-thumbed copy of “Us Weekly” out of her purse.
As she pondered her beloved tabloid’s presentation of “cutest celebrity baby bumps” the Colonel slumped against the room’s large marble hearth and removed his pith helmet, revealing a particularly sweaty case of hat-head. His mouth continued to sag open while little sounds not even remotely resembling his usual level of cool eloquence escaped. A glossy page whispered scandalously as she browsed.
“Damn you, woman.”
The Curse’s savage syllables crashed through the still air like a drunken juggernaut.
“Uh?” Mavis turned from the colourful publication blinking as if she was only noticing him for the first time. “Damn you,” The Colonel repeated hoarsely, striding across the room with renewed vigour to sit decisively upon the Divan beside her curled form. He snatched the paper from her surprised hands and whipped it into the hearth where it languished, saved by the day’s humidity.
“Damn you for enchanting me, you witch, you sorceress, you Helen of Troy.” The words rose to a thunderous volume as the Colonel, swept away by the force of his own feelings, regained the signature intensity that made him the terror of croquet courts. “I was content- not happy perhaps, but satisfied with my life of wealth, luxury and travel. Then you enter my tidy sphere of existence like a ravaging storm,” Strong, warm hands wrapped themselves around Mavis’ clammy sausage fingers. He was very close to her now, feverish hazel eyes struggling to take the entirety of her being into their passionate gaze. He smelled like musk and sandalwood. “Yes, a storm, a disaster, a force of nature, that’s what you are! And like a crazed fool, I find myself wanting more!”
“Hey, I was reading that,” Mavis replied indignantly.
The colonel pulled her close to him, enfolding her in his strong, confident embrace. The tips of their noses nearly touched as he held her even tighter with the force of his ardent gaze. “Oh my darling, my precious Venus, tell me there’s no one else.”
“You wouldn’t believe who Jennifer was seen with.”
The Colonel, no fool, anticipated the consequences of this wildfire passion and despised himself for yielding to it, at the same time acknowledging that not to yield would be unbearable. His lips, his tongue, his breath, his life- all were hers to do with what she would. He drank deeply of his perfect love, certain that the thirst would never be sated. Mavis made a token resistance to the kiss, and then shrugged and went with it. Her eyes fluttered, not from girlish emotion, but because a stray eyelash was irritating the sclera.