tortilla and proceed to put together a chicken fajita. I am having the time of my life and the Prince is clearly enjoying the uncomfortable shifting around of his guests. I take another drink of that ancient wine and take a nice big bite out of my fajita. It is the tastiest, juiciest fajita that has ever touched my mouth. I take another bite and smile at my Prince as he slowly devours the shark fin.
“That fajita looks good,” the Prince remarks as I wipe my mouth.
“It certainly is, Your Highness.”
“I insist you offer me a bite of your entree,” Prince Julian orders.
I cut a piece of the fajita and offer the fork full of food to my royal lover.
“Why don’t you come over and feed it to your Prince.”
“As you command, Prince Julian.”
I get up from my seat and walk over to the head of the table. The Prince grabs me and places my small frame on his lap. I giggle and playfully push the fork towards his face. Prince Julian opens his mouth and eats my fajita.
“That was great. Now, I’ll let you sample some of my shark fin!” the Prince says as he pushes a fork full of fish towards my face.
“Ah!” I yelp as the Prince playfully makes me taste his unusual dish. The Prince and I continue to laugh while I sit on his lap and wrap my hands around his head. The other guests appear anywhere from bemused to confused to aggravated. Prince Julian is certainly adept at controlling the emotions of his guests. I am simply playing my role as femme provocateur!
“Alright. Alright. I’ll let you get back to your fajita,” the Prince says as he lifts me off of his lap. As I walk away, he gives me a nice, firm slap on my backside. I sit back down and continue to enjoy my delectable meal, the Prince attacks his shark fin and the guests continue to contemplate what on Earth is going on.
Prince Julian takes a glance of his watch while he continues to eat. I remember my master promising Carole that he would uncover the traitor before midnight. I check my watch. It is 10:50. The Prince has a little over an hour left to fulfill his promise. As each minute passes, I begin to get more and more anxious. Things are about to get interesting indeed!
“That will do,” the Prince says as he puts his silverware down. As per royal tradition, when the Prince is done eating, all others must cease to dine as well. The guests don’t seem to be too upset about the fact that dinner is over. The servers dispatch the dinner with lightning efficiency. Within two minutes, all evidence of the shark has left the table. In its place is a dessert of cafe latte and a cup of Vanilla Crème Brûlée topped with a sprinkle of cinnamon.
Everyone seems relieved and even excited about the dessert. And everyone at the table dives into their sugar infused dessert. Everyone, that is, except for the Prince. The royal leader quietly converses with one of his men. I wonder what is going on? Could it be that the dessert is a mere distraction while the Prince readies his trap for the guest? Judging by the intense look on Prince Julian’s face, it appears that my royal master is ready to pounce.
Prince Julian taps the side of his latte cup. He raises the cup to his mouth and takes a hearty gulp. He then slams down the empty cup and rises to his feet. “And now, on to the unpleasant business of this evening,” the Prince says as he walks around the table. The guests put down their drinks and desserts. They all sit upright with posture that would rival any Marine. “You may be wondering what earned you an invitation to the Palace this evening. You are all among the richest subjects in the Principality. There are certainly other rich members of my realm who are not here this evening. So how exactly did you earn a seat this table?” the Prince asks as he allows that question to hang in the air. I look at the face of each guest. Some are genuinely confused while others sit in white-faced
“That fajita looks good,” the Prince remarks as I wipe my mouth.
“It certainly is, Your Highness.”
“I insist you offer me a bite of your entree,” Prince Julian orders.
I cut a piece of the fajita and offer the fork full of food to my royal lover.
“Why don’t you come over and feed it to your Prince.”
“As you command, Prince Julian.”
I get up from my seat and walk over to the head of the table. The Prince grabs me and places my small frame on his lap. I giggle and playfully push the fork towards his face. Prince Julian opens his mouth and eats my fajita.
“That was great. Now, I’ll let you sample some of my shark fin!” the Prince says as he pushes a fork full of fish towards my face.
“Ah!” I yelp as the Prince playfully makes me taste his unusual dish. The Prince and I continue to laugh while I sit on his lap and wrap my hands around his head. The other guests appear anywhere from bemused to confused to aggravated. Prince Julian is certainly adept at controlling the emotions of his guests. I am simply playing my role as femme provocateur!
“Alright. Alright. I’ll let you get back to your fajita,” the Prince says as he lifts me off of his lap. As I walk away, he gives me a nice, firm slap on my backside. I sit back down and continue to enjoy my delectable meal, the Prince attacks his shark fin and the guests continue to contemplate what on Earth is going on.
Prince Julian takes a glance of his watch while he continues to eat. I remember my master promising Carole that he would uncover the traitor before midnight. I check my watch. It is 10:50. The Prince has a little over an hour left to fulfill his promise. As each minute passes, I begin to get more and more anxious. Things are about to get interesting indeed!
“That will do,” the Prince says as he puts his silverware down. As per royal tradition, when the Prince is done eating, all others must cease to dine as well. The guests don’t seem to be too upset about the fact that dinner is over. The servers dispatch the dinner with lightning efficiency. Within two minutes, all evidence of the shark has left the table. In its place is a dessert of cafe latte and a cup of Vanilla Crème Brûlée topped with a sprinkle of cinnamon.
Everyone seems relieved and even excited about the dessert. And everyone at the table dives into their sugar infused dessert. Everyone, that is, except for the Prince. The royal leader quietly converses with one of his men. I wonder what is going on? Could it be that the dessert is a mere distraction while the Prince readies his trap for the guest? Judging by the intense look on Prince Julian’s face, it appears that my royal master is ready to pounce.
Prince Julian taps the side of his latte cup. He raises the cup to his mouth and takes a hearty gulp. He then slams down the empty cup and rises to his feet. “And now, on to the unpleasant business of this evening,” the Prince says as he walks around the table. The guests put down their drinks and desserts. They all sit upright with posture that would rival any Marine. “You may be wondering what earned you an invitation to the Palace this evening. You are all among the richest subjects in the Principality. There are certainly other rich members of my realm who are not here this evening. So how exactly did you earn a seat this table?” the Prince asks as he allows that question to hang in the air. I look at the face of each guest. Some are genuinely confused while others sit in white-faced
Similar Books
