INDIAN BATH

This was the season of learning about ourselves. She stopped at my door one day and quietly knocked. "Come in, come in." Emily glided into my library in her bikini. She was barefoot. Her lips were carmine. She had scarlet polish on her fingernails and on her toenails. Her long, brown hair was in braids. She was nearing her seventeenth birthday at the end of summer. She was a smaller version of her mother, but so young, and tempting. "Good morning, Dick. I see you're busy writing. Have you ever published anything?" "Yes, certainly, Emily. I have many papers published in academic journals. Have you ever heard of publish or perish? That's what's heard in college and university departments across the country. You see, if you want to rise in the academic world, as I've done, you must publish. Oh yes, I have lots of published papers." "Actually, I meant something more interesting than that. Have you published novels, or poems? Something that real people would read?" "Ah, I see. Yes, yes,. “Marry me!” Boris demanded.“No!” Mitzy replied.“That’s twenty sire,” the sweating security man gasped, “Shall I continue?”“No, you, you take over, twenty more, then twenty more again!” the prince insisted, “Now will you marry me!”“No never!” Mitzy cried, “I would rather die!”“You,” Boris snapped, “You with the sword, shave her head!” “No!” Mitzy cried, “It took me years to grow this!” she declared referring to her mass of golden ringlets.“Marry me or go bald, your call,” Boris insisted.Mitzy knew she was beaten, her hair was her trademark, that and her E cup tits.“Ok you win, I’ll marry you,” Mitzy sighed reluctantly, “Can someone fix up my dress?”“No time,” Boris insisted, “Anyway its not as if most people haven’t seen you naked in films already.”“Boris!” Mitzy cried as the security men let her get up and she clasped the ruined dress to her bosoms, “I’m not wearing a bra!”“Tough, we have a TV schedule to keep,” Boris insisted as he ripped the ruined dress away from her, leaving her.
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