Heat, within, without, seemingly everywhere. Sir Thomas sat upon his grey mare in full plate his breastplate chaffing, the summer sun striking him viciously. At first the sun's bite had been a mere annoyance but after three hours of jousting the suit of armour encasing the knight felt like one of the castle kitchen ovens.
'Please let this be the final bout,' begged Sir Thomas, praying in his mind to any gods who happened to be listening.
At the opposite end of the field Sir Thomas could just make out through the slits in his helm visor a flag being madly waved. The bout had begun and every second counted.
Spurs from armoured ankles prick the flanks of the grey mare sparking it suddenly to life. The beast learched forward from naught to canter and then gallop as its passenger clung on tightly with padded thighs, a tiny shield placed over his breast, the shaft, a mere thin tree branch of a lance being lowered ever so slowly as Sir Thomas drew closer to his foe. As the distant figure seen through the helm slits became a distinguishable target Thomas discovered the foe he faced was none other than the Black Knight. Was it a lowly lord now stripped of rank, an enspiring young lord trying his luck and aiming for fortune and glory, or the High Prince himself forbidden to compete? Sir Thomas did not know, so chose to urge his steed on faster and lowered his shaft to strike true upon the covered shield. There came a moment where the two knights met with a shuddering crunch and two lances splintered in a shower of pine. Sir Thomas immediately felt his collarbone snap as the Black Knight's lance tip ploughed into his shoulder, the knight had aimed too high and too far to the right. Sir Thomas smiled though through his pain... The Black Knight was unhorsed, landed upon his rear and struggling to rise. Two squires ran across the tilting field to aid the fallen, with young muscles bulging the fallen knight was brought back to his feet. Removing his helm and the cover hiding the crest upon his shield the mysterious combatant revealed himself. Sir Thomas had bested the High Prince and had won the day. His shoulder was a high price to pay but the honour earnt would last him a life time.
Something More Modern
Larissa Marcos, the latest talent in high class lingerie sped along the Autobahn in her Julieta. The passion red machine roared like an angry bear as the speedo clicked over a hundred miles an hour. Comfortable in the drivers seat Larissa made a brief indication she was switching lanes and then shot past three Audi delivery trucks in a split second.
"Darling! I'm about half an hour away!" the young fashionista casually announced to her handsfree. Larissa's accent was distinctly Australian, she had moved from Bondi to the Eastern suburbs of London only six months before. The man on the other end of the line understood every word.
"Magnific madam Marcos. Emma, Sally, Michelle and the other models have already arrived and your pieces are all unpacked and hanging ready."
"I hope the pink champaign is on ice too?" Larissa laughed.
"Of course, madam! Of course," came the man's reply with a dry chuckle of his own.
The rest of the journey vanished in under twenty as the foot was flattened and the thrumming engine of the Julieta found another gear.
"Minister of Finance, so sorry to hear that the United Kingdom has chosen to leave the Euro," Larissa stated solemnly as she kissed the older German first on the left, then the right cheek and then the left again.
"As the Italians say, Ce Sara Sara... The loss of the U.K. may yet prove to be a blessing," the Minister replied, kissing Larissa upon her cheeks in kind.
"Well if it proves to be a blessing or curse matters not tonight. It is all about six lovely young ladies and my latest designs."
"As you say Miss Marcos, my wife and I both are very eager to see your creative genius, tonight and perhaps later..."
"I hope you mean on your wife good sir..."
"Of course," smiled the Minister. "I get my wife a new set every fashion show I attend..."
"You may like the third piece to be shown tonight... Diamond dusted... Very expensive... Highly exclusive..."
The halls of German Parliament were an unusual site for a fashion show but Larissa was happy to show off her sensual designs anywhere and everywhere.
The chandeliers rattled and flicked the green, orange and blue lasers around the ballroom as Iggy belted out her latest single. Michelle, the first to model stepped out confidently upon the catwalk. She wore a silver gown spiderweb thin, low cut at the neck and secured with a rose gold clasp at the model's navel. At the end of the runway the clasp with released with a small smile from Michelle and the flourish of a magician. The German Prime Minister and his wife applauded enthusiastically as the two piece was revealed, the same thin shimmering silver fabric revealing the best of Michelle's assets while still leaving enough to the imagination of the crowd of one hundred.
After that the show just went from strength to strength. Emma's Aqua green and salmon pink single piece with stockings and garter made Larissa smile as even the PM wolf whistled, causing his wife's eyebrows to rise. The champaign flowed freely at the show and then long into the night. As the sun rose on the following day the passion coloured sports machine left Parliament, headed for Milan and yet another opportunity to sell to the very rich. Life was good for the young designer. Life was very good indeed...
No comments:
Post a Comment