Irish chain by Earlene Fowler
By Earlene Fowler
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Example text
I don’t play jokes on the ladies who share my bed,” Dieter said, reaching for my hand. “That’s not what I hear. ” Dieter’s fingers wriggled under the cuff of my sweater and squirmed up my arm. “One cannot resist teasing Elise; she is so funny when she is angry. ” “You are much bigger than Elise,” Dieter explained. ” Dieter’s arm was now entirely inside the sleeve of my sweater, and his eyes were crossed in intense concentration as he tried to stretch his fingers a strategic inch farther. ” I inquired with genuine curiosity.
Fessl retired, he would probably be head curator—no mean accomplishment for a man in his mid-thirties. I loved him like a brother, when I didn’t hate him like a brother. But I had no desire to go to bed with him. “Maybe some day,” I said soothingly. TROJAN GOLD / 51 For a moment I had feared he was really hurt by my excuses, but if so, he recovered quickly. ” he demanded in tragic accents. ” “It’s none of your business, actually,” I said. ” “Tony. ” Dieter chuckled and blew out a thick cloud of smoke.
And he was probably still in the office. Practical jokes are no fun unless you can observe the hysteria of your victim. I pushed aside the screen concealing my domestic appliances, the only place in the room where anyone could hide. He was doubled up and shaking with suppressed mirth, his arms hugging his midsection. Finding himself discovered, he let the laughter 48 / Elizabeth Peters burst out in a genial baritone shout that was so contagious I felt my wrath fading. “All right, Dieter,” I said.