A Most Charming Prince

Six: Madame's Melons

Madame did not turn to greet the newcomer when her front door was opened in a way that bespoke respect for the tavern property as well as a hefty amount of self-confidence belonging to the opener. Most often the door was flung open by random men who believed heart and soul that their presence announced the beginning of the festivities, or alternately, it was swung open trepidatiously by men pretending to not actually be there.

Whatever the difference, Madame was not in the mood to stop her card game and deal with another lusty customer. However much she wished she could run a profitable business by serving only beer, brauts and bacon-greased fried potatoes smothered in bacon, she knew her girls needed a place to work and customers wanted more than a pillow to cuddle at night.

She didn't look up even when Julia stumbled on her way out of the kitchen and what seemed to be a half melted pair of purple bloomers fell to her feet. No, it was only when Delilah, her card playing partner, whispered, "Sweet milk of the muses, I could drink that fountain dry," a glazed, starry sparkle to her gaze, accompanied by the faint odor of something burning, did Madame turn in her seat.

In a quick wash of warmth, her own undergarments liquefied, and as she sighed in yearning, her corset began to unlace itself.

"Sir!" she managed to gasp. Clutching at her corset laces, lest her oversized puppies escape and head south, she continued, "You are a welcome guest in my humble abode."

The Greek god strode purposefully to the nearest bench and gingerly set down the passed out Nina. "Thank you, Madame. Do you have smelling salts?"

Smelling salts? Yes, smelling salts would be just the thing. She took the bottle from a hidden pocket and snorted as if her life depended on it.

He motioned for the bottle. A dust coated servant that she hadn't noticed before took it from her hand and gave it to him. Nina jerked to life, and, like any reasonable person would do when faced with such unworldly beauty, she latched onto his shoulders and said, "Holy smokes, I've died and somehow snuck into heaven."

"You are perfectly fine, my dear. Safe and sound at home." He disengaged her hands and stood to inspect the tavern's dining room. "Not quite what I had imagined, however, I was told you have huge melons to offer visitors and the sweetest dumplings this side of the River Rio." His voice was a golden-timbered baritone and sticky as honey. Or was that sweet as honey?

However the saying went, Madame's knees went all bendy and she had to lean on a table. "I'm actually quite famous for my potatoes, beer, and—" What else did she serve here? With those steel blue eyes piercing straight through her body, her brain turned into scrambled eggs. Delilah motioned to her ample bosom, preening herself. Madame remembered her own luscious melons, currently sagging somewhat instead of squeezing themselves from the top of her dress. Right! "and our entertainment." Madame waved vaguely at the half dozen, scantily clad vixens who had followed Maggie downstairs and were now gathered, gawking, in the dining room.

Vivi stepped inside from the chicken yard out back, bucket and rag in hand, and yelped in surprise. Her panties took flight from underneath her skirts and escaped through the open door.

"Enchanting," the knight said. One of the vixens fainted, hitting the floor with a thump. "And might I have a word with the Master of the House of Il Répute?"

"Wha?" Madame mumbled. She had no idea what he was talking about. The overwhelming power of his masculine presence had completely defeated her womanly capacity of thought.

Maggie stage whispered in her ear, "If he wants to play Master of the House, I have a new collar and leash."

The begrimed servant stepped forward. "I believe, Madame, that you are mistress of the house, and reigning head of this worthy establishment."

She nodded. Mistress. Establishment. Sounded about right.

"In that case," the knight said, "there is something I must announce. I have travelled from Alte Monastery in the mountains since the break of dawn, but not to enjoy your juicy melons or sample your lovely dumplings, nay, in order to satisfy my destiny in the utmost haste."

"Destiny?" Was that a euphemism for 'burning desire to be licked from head to toe'?

"Indeed. According to my dearest old nurse, it was foretold at my birth that my massive size would the stuff of legends and that I would be as mighty as the oak. I was told that I would come at this very house and that on the eve of my 24th birthday, I would fulfill the wildest dreams of all the women in Darndiddle." He held out his well-muscled arms as if encompassing them all in an embrace. "You are my destiny."

Two thumps sounded—Vivi and Julia had both keeled over.