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Featured Author - April Australopith Story of the week: View past Author's of the Month |
She pulled her shawl off and cast it aside. Then she pulled the collar of her nightgown down with a flourish. And then she turned her back to him, leaning over slightly so he could see… "The button, Jenkins." She enunciated each letter bitterly. “Why do I have a bloody button on my neck, my dear?” "Duchess, you… you're not in your coat." This was all Greg could muster. He had never seen her behave so spontaneously; she usually stuck close to the script of predetermined Tidyshire scenarios. "Blistering barnacles! THIS button. AND I KNOW why I have it.” The Duchess stomped her foot and extended her arms, closely examining them as if seeing them for the first time. “SHE showed it to me... by accident, I suppose... in the mirror... press it, Jenkins." "She?" Greg suddenly knew what must have happened. What might have happened. Did it happen? Oh, Lord. There… there was no way out now. With a groan, Greg reached down and pressed the button to unlock the Duchess' chest control panel. It took a hard press and a turn to the right; nothing that could be triggered by a mere bump, or the robots might shut themselves off by accident or in the heat of passion. Duchess Winifred’s ample chest opened, revealing a tangle of wires and a control panel with blinking LED diodes. |
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