Love For Sale

Love For Sale

“She has been fashioned from the finest of materials. Her hair is that of a Duchess beheaded on the eve of her wedding seconds before consummation could be achieved. The expression on her face really says it all, doesn’t it? The arms are of course those of Petrushka snatched during the death of her incomparable swan. Although the torso is common stock the breasts are those of a Saint, I am not sure which one because they all merge together for me with their horrendously over the top and somewhat garish deaths. The only thing I remember for sure is that this was obviously not one who was pierced through the breast with an arrow. And finally the piece de resistance and what really makes my humble offering unique is what lies masked by her damask. Soft as a kitten, smooth as a silken oyster and yet lined with the razor-sharp dentate of those Amazonian hell fish. Lulled by the gentle cooing of the doves your enemy will truly be consumed by his passion.”

I studied the man as he digested my meaning. He did not look like the usual type interested in procuring the services of my Vionette. This one looked like he would have no problem keeping a woman satisfied or at least too terrified to do anything but pray for his lack of interest.

“May I?” The man gestured towards the short stiff round of embroidery that covered Vionette’s most charming point of interest.

“But of course.” I said. “Just…”

I was about to say to say ‘don’t get too close’ when I heard the whirring purr of those tiny teeth and knew that I had been too late.

Vionette did not even have the good grace to blush as the man writhed beneath her staring in horror to the gush at the end of his arm where his hand used to be.

I gave Vionette my sternest look.

“I am sorry my sweet but you know how much I hate it when someone points.” Vionette cooed.

I searched the man’s pockets for coins but found nothing but credit vouchers. I wished Vionette had at least held her temper until we’d been paid. That was the trouble with artists they cared more about their dignity than their pocketbooks

Well at least it wasn’t a total waste.  The man was strong and healthy and would keep my girls fed for weeks. I on the other hand would have to go hungry again.