“Dick Tupin” – Extract of a SL novel by Lady Heady Antfarm.
(Soon to be found at Grignano Books)
Through the foul, dread night she rode, like a man possessed but in a woman’s body and riding side saddle to boot. A hoot! An owl cried in the inky black and her horse, already half mad with fear and mouldy apples, had a seizure and dropped dead on the spot. M’lady flew through the air and sluiced to a stop in the sticky mud. Behind her she heard her pursuer’s horse slam to a stop with a start as it hit the already rotting carcass of her own ex-mount. With a rebel yell, a dark, powerful shape came slithering along the muddy trail and rolled manfully on top of her.
“Unhand me, you wretch!” she demanded.
“M’lady, I can assure you my hands are nowhere near you.” He replied, his voice a curious combination of silk wrapped honey and cobbler’s tacks.
She looked and saw his leather gloved hands propping him up either side of her shoulders, “Well at least move that damn sword hilt, man!”
“M’lady, I’m not wearing a sword…” he growled in a way that sent a thrill down her spine and through her hips. Unbeknownst to her, it carried on down her legs, through her boot and into the ground where it travelled into the forest and felled a moose.
She could not help but push her fulsome hips upwards to investigate. Their findings were entirely to her liking and within seconds her nimble hands had joined in the investigation and were already uncovering his reward.
“You rode hard and fast tonight,” she hissed as she grasped his stallion and led it to her very own secret hay bale, “but let’s see if you are masterful in my saddle, you dog!”
“Oddsbodkins!” was all he could reply as he went cross-eyed and donned a stupid smile…
(For more by the same author, click here)