Sentence The Twohundredandeightieth
Sir Parlane MacFarlane threw off the torpor which had cloaked him in procrastination since his chance encounter with the delightfully inventive Black Velvet MacCaroon, the unparalleled and most skilful whore in Embra and, turning a deaf ear to her appeals to him as her “Liege Lord” which would have her clamped into the maiden should such unentitled titling reach his Royal Master's ears – and MacFarlane never doubted that His Majesty King Alexander had ears everywhere and in every Close-Mooth, the length of The High from The Castle Rock to Holy Rude, he shoved open the door to find
a blizzard swirling around his legs and he cursed the inclinations which drove him to these peripatetic excursions when better – or, more sensible, or, less virile and cock-driven – men were asleep in their beds in the arms of their wives, or the scullery-maids in their employ, rather than stravaiging through snow-billows in search of fresh holes to plug, “but such is life,” said Sir Parlane, reaching out to catch the blond curl escaping from the hooded cloak worn by the small child walking hand in hand with His Manne Dominic, and when Dominic replied to the raised, questioning, eyebrow of His Master, “aye, sir, 'tis she of whom I spake,” Sir Parlane enveloped Goldilocks in his own cloak and
wheeched her down the next Close and through the back passages and so by the rear entrance into his own MacFarlane House and up to his bed – from which Marie Doubleday was swiftly ejected, that he and Dominic might have their play with their new toy!
Sir Parlane MacFarlane threw off the torpor which had cloaked him in procrastination since his chance encounter with the delightfully inventive Black Velvet MacCaroon, the unparalleled and most skilful whore in Embra and, turning a deaf ear to her appeals to him as her “Liege Lord” which would have her clamped into the maiden should such unentitled titling reach his Royal Master's ears – and MacFarlane never doubted that His Majesty King Alexander had ears everywhere and in every Close-Mooth, the length of The High from The Castle Rock to Holy Rude, he shoved open the door to find
a blizzard swirling around his legs and he cursed the inclinations which drove him to these peripatetic excursions when better – or, more sensible, or, less virile and cock-driven – men were asleep in their beds in the arms of their wives, or the scullery-maids in their employ, rather than stravaiging through snow-billows in search of fresh holes to plug, “but such is life,” said Sir Parlane, reaching out to catch the blond curl escaping from the hooded cloak worn by the small child walking hand in hand with His Manne Dominic, and when Dominic replied to the raised, questioning, eyebrow of His Master, “aye, sir, 'tis she of whom I spake,” Sir Parlane enveloped Goldilocks in his own cloak and
wheeched her down the next Close and through the back passages and so by the rear entrance into his own MacFarlane House and up to his bed – from which Marie Doubleday was swiftly ejected, that he and Dominic might have their play with their new toy!
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