Whipping Out Her Walkie-Talkie
Is that his name?- conducted a cascade
- came from the heart and not from the lips
- where the Tenth Doctor is Chandler or something, I don’t know.
- she said she felt sorry for him
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Whipping out her walkie-talkie, Betsy growled, “Stay out of this, Fernando Heavens.”
I was distracted from my libidinous release. “Fernando Heavens? Seriously? Is that his name?”
“Shush.” She laid her finger over my lips. Taking up her walkie again she said, as if explaining to a child, “By now he should have ‘conducted a cascade‘ as the kids call it. His exotic compound would already be ours.”
Suddenly I was tired of all this intrigue. I longed for a coupling that came from the heart and not from the lips of shadowy spy masters.
Betsy saw the dissatisfaction on my face. She said, “Oh no you don’t. We have to finish this or we’ll both be in trouble.” She pumped her hips. “What would help? Role playing, maybe? We could act something out where I’m a horny alien who’s just met her first Time Lord — that’s you — and where the Tenth Doctor is Chandler or something, I don’t know. How complicated do you wanna make it?”
Without waiting for my response, she launched into an elaborate monologue, acting the part of alien vixen. She said she found the Doctor stranded in his malfunctioning TARDIS. She said she loved his sarcastic comebacks and floppy hair. She said she felt sorry for him because everyone else from his planet was dead, including the five friends he always got coffee with.
Her story was oddly specific and fleshed out, and the opposite of erotic, but her movements and her body kept my attention.
bonus points for using them in order