MB Saucy Side: Word Choice

                The knight’s mussels rippled in the moonlight as he bent down to bathe himself in the silvery waters of Lake Silver. The princess stop breathing as silvery droplets of moisture trickled down his bared, rock-hewn abs. What is wrong with me? She thought, too purely innocent to understand the fevered heat which was rising within her loins. Sir Nikolai is my sworn knight protector. It is indecent to watch his nude form. . . I should leave.

                The bush rustled as the princess began to crawl away. ‘WHO’S THERE?’ Sir Nikolai shouted, drawing his sword. ‘SHOW YOURSELF AT ONCE!’

                He leapt from the silvery waters and swung his sword fiercely at the bush where—until a mere moment ago—the princess had been watching from within.

                ‘Do not strike me, Sir Nick!’ The princess ejaculated. ‘It is only I!”

                ‘Princess Fania?’ Sir Nikolai dropped his sowrd on the ground and immediately fell to one knee in a knightly kneel. ‘What are you doing here. Were you watching me bathe?’

                The princess blushed. ‘O-o-of c-c-course n-n-not,’ she stuttered.

                ‘Good,’ Sir Nikolai replied sadly, a tear forming in his loving eyes. ‘We cannot be together as man and woman, my princess, much as I might secretly yearn for your tender, maidenly touch. But you are my lady, and I am your sworn knight protector!’

“. . . And then they kiss,” Glitch finished. “After another three or so chapters yearning, of course. Maybe he saves her from a dragon named Rosebud?”

Stephanie Valero gasped and slammed her notebook shut, aghast at discovering that her coworker had been sneakily reading her writing—her very, very private writing—over her shoulder.

“Sorry,” Glitch said, sounding genuinely contrite as color flooded Stephanie’s cheeks. “You probably came to this courtyard because it’s usually empty, right? I do the same thing.”

“I need to go,” Stephanie mumbled.

“In my admittedly thin defense, I did call out to you multiple times. You were so absorbed with whatever you were writing that I had no choice but to sneak a peek.” Glitch splayed their palms in the air. “Curiosity is my kryptonite.”

Journal clutched to her chest, Stephanie glared at Glitch with all the force that she could muster (which wasn’t much, having never been very strong willed). “You made fun of me,” she said in a small voice.

“I did not!” Glitch contradicted. “Forbidden love blossoming between lady liege and knight dates back to Arthurian legend. Why would I make fun of you for reinterpreting a classic trope?”

Stephanie searched for any bite in Glitch’s words but could find no sign of derision. “I know that I’m not the best writer,” she admitted, “and this is the first draft, so—”

“In that case, do you need a beta reader?” Glitch asked, their brown eyes sparkling with eagerness. “I have free time now that I’m no longer working as a T.A.”

Stephanie’s eyes narrowed. “Why would you want to read my story?”

“It’s true: you’re not a great writer.”

Despite having uttered the words herself, Stephanie still flinched at having Glitch’s glib verification.

“What you are, however, is an indulgent writer,” Glitch continued, “and I’d much rather participant in indulgence than greatness.” They shrugged. “Also, I’ve been bored out of my mind these recent free periods, and playing editor will be fun.”

Stephanie chewed the inside of her lip. “My work isn’t meant to be read by anyone but me. It’s . . . personal.” Especially the earlier chapters, where she’d been a bit too heavy-handed when it came to metaphors about jousting poles.

“Fine. I really didn’t want to resort to this, but you leave me no choice.” Glitch leaned in so close to Stephanie that their noses almost touched, lowering their voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “Ellery Wiseman brings me a freshly baked blueberry muffin every morning on account of having lost a bet.”

“I don’t see how—”

“Who do you think makes these muffins? I’ll give you a hint: it’s not El.”

Stephanie’s heart, ever foolish, gave a tiny flutter. “You mean . . .”

“That’s right,” Glitch confirmed. “He makes them to pay off his sibling’s debt, and he’ll continue baking them until July. Much as I savor my breakfasts, I might be induced to share with, say, a friend.”

“A friend?”

“A friend who lets me read her writing.” Upon seeing Stephanie’s continued hesitation, Glitch expression shifted from mischievous to solemn. “I won’t make fun of you, Steph—I really do think that it’s awesome that you have a creative outlet. Plus, I’d love to have someone read my stuff as well, because Kent is useless when it comes to critiquing poetry. This could be a mutual critique session. But if you’re still uncomfortable sharing, I won’t press.”

Stephanie took a deep breath before nodding with resolve. “Let’s do it.” She hesitated. “And the muffins?”

“Are yours,” Glitch confirmed.

They shook hands to seal the bargain, Stephanie’s fingers cold and trembling in Glitch’s firm grip. She had a niggling suspicion that she might have just joined a writing club with the devil . . . but surely the muffins would be worth it.

                Princess Fania thrashed beneath the dragon’s gleaming black claws, which pinned her to ground like a rabbit ensnared within a trap.

                ‘Release me, foul beast!’ she cried out. ‘I will never marry you!”

                ‘Marriage?’ The Black Dragon cackled, puffs of smoke curling menacingly from its scaly nostrils. ‘I have no interest in marrying you, my pretty little sweetmeat.’

                ‘Then why?’ Princess Fania demanded. ‘Why capture me on the day of my wedding, if not to wed me yourself and thus lay claim to my father’s throne?’

                The Black Dragon licked his foul snout with a slit tongue. ‘Because virgins are delicious,’ he hissed. ‘Especially virgin princesses.’

                Oh! How Fania wished now that she had not fled from Sir Nikolai that fateful night! Because she had left that night with maidenly virtue intact, she was now doomed to die. She would never see her knight protector again, never witness Sir Nikolai’s tender smile or admire the way that the sun glistened off his pink hair as if reflecting the hue of her heart.

                ‘Unhand the princess, Ambrogisinth!’ A deep male voice ejaculated just as Fania’s eyes drifted closed in defeat. ‘I have come to rescue my lady!’

“Steph. We talked about this.” Glitch set down the newest chapter of Night of The Knight on the courtyard’s picnic table, staring at Stephanie with censure that bordered on parential.

Stephanie swallowed the last bite of her blueberry muffin. “It means to say something vehemently.”

“And is that the first definition in the dictionary?”

“It’s used that way in Anne of Green Gables,” Stephanie said defensively. “And in Sherlock Holmes.”

“As much I appreciate your taste in classic literature, those sentences are memes nowadays,” Glitch said. “No more ejaculations in this story, I’m begging you. Not unless they’re the fun kind.”

                His turgid lance was a massive weapon of steel, the likes of which the princess had never before seen. “Neigh, Sir Nick!” the princess cried out. ‘I cannot handle such a mighty weapon!’

“She’s not a horse, Steph,” Glitch said. “If you’re using the old English, then you have to spell things right. Although . . .” Glitch scratched their chin contemplatively. “Have you considered turning Princess Fania into a centaur?”

Stephanie glared at them. “Just keep reading and let me know what you think.”

                ‘You must hold it more securely, your highness!’ Sir Nikolai instructed, moving Princess Fania’s small, delicate hands so that they gripped further up the shaft. ‘Yes, just like that!’

                ‘You truly think that I can win this match?’ Princess Fania asked.

                Sir Nikolai’s hand tilted up her chin so that she gazed directly into his sparkling ruby eyes. ‘You defeat me every day, my lady, and I am the greatest knight in the kingdom. Continue training, and victory will be yours come the jousting tournament.’

“Hold up,” Glitch interjected. “This isn’t a sex scene?”

Stephanie gasped. “Of course not! Sir Nikolai is training Princess Fania so that she can enter the jousting tournament and win her father’s approval to become the crown princess.”

“Huh. I thought that they were finally going at it.”

The furious growl that emerged from Stephanie’s throat rivaled that of the Black Dragon Ambrogisinth. “They can’t make love yet,” she scolded. “Sir Nikolai hasn’t even realized that he’s in love with the princess.”

“I thought that he confessed that back in chapter one hundred and seventeen.”

“He only admitted to secretly yearning for her touch. That’s different.”

“So, Sir Nikolai admits to being in lust but not to being love.”

“Exactly!”

Glitch gave a sharp salute, signaling that they now comprehended Sir Nikolai’s internal character development. “Is this training scene meant to come across as so sexual, though?” they asked. “Because I REALLY didn’t think that she was handling an actual weapon.”

Stephanie nodded with the seriousness of a scholar lecturing on feminist modalities of metaphysical philosophic doctrine in postmodern Europe. “Sexually charged training scenes are a must in indulgent fiction.”

                The sun-warmed grass embraced Princess Fania like the finest of silk sheets as Sir Nikolai pushed her gently onto the ground. Breathless, she shyly watched as her beloved knight protector, bared of his customary golden armor, braced himself above her.

                ‘Be gentle with me, Sir Nick,” Princess Fania pleaded. ‘For I know naught of the ways of love.’

“Just to confirm, this is an actual sex scene, right?”

“Yes.”

                Sir Nikolai pressed his heated lips to her petal soft ones. ‘Fear not, my love,’ he declared. ‘As a paladin, I too have never known the embrace of another.’

“Wait. Hold up.” Glitch could barely get their words out over their sputtering laughter. “Sir Nick is a—” Their last word was lost to a coughing fit of giggles. “A virgin?”

“Is that a problem?” Stephanie demanded, an angry line forming between her brows.

“Being a virgin? Of course not. But Nick is the farthest thing from . . .” Glitch cut themself off at Stephanie’s darkening frown. “Right, sorry. I meant Sir Nikolai, who bears no resemblance to actual persons, living or dead.”

“Sir Nikolai is a paladin,” Stephanie said, blithely ignoring Glitch's implication. “He swore an oath of chastity to the gods, which only the intensity of his love for Fania now compels him to break.”

“Gotcha,” Glitch said, coughing to disguise their persistent giggles. “Sorry, was just asking to clarify. So, are the gods gonna smote him for breaking his vow? Because that would be fun for the next story arch.”

“Of course not,” Stephanie said, rolling her eyes. “The gods never demanded the vow of chastity—it was created by the temple so that their holy paladins didn’t leave the order by going off to have families.”

“That . . . actually makes a lot of sense.”

“Well, you’re the one who insisted that I flush out the world’s lore,” Stephanie told Glitch generously. “It paid off.” She smirked, which wasn’t an expression which the old Stephanie Valero had ever before had the confidence to pull off. Glitch was a bad (or good?) influence.

“Keep reading,” she instructed her editor. “I think you’ll finally approve of my word choice.”