I Am Well-Versed in the Pianist’s Code
“I’ve known her since grade school.”- just across the Mississippi state line
- the extraordinary nature of his luggage
- her late husband’s secret torments
- and now wears a hood to protect his identity
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I am well-versed in the pianist’s code, so reading the message on Tesla’s fingernails would have been easy if only she’d kept them all in view. Instead she played me like a piano, her delicate fingers dancing all over my body.
“I can’t believe this is happening,” I thought. “I’ve known her since grade school.”
Tesla’s fingers continued their intricate dance, down my torso and just across the Mississippi state line, if you will, which was currently obscured by layers of balloon animals. She seemed pleased with what she found there, and said many flattering things about my package.
“What’s going on?” I heard Jason lisp from the hatch overhead. “I can’t see past all these balloon animals.”
William Sausage sighed. “She’s cooing about the extraordinary nature of his luggage at the moment.”
Jason called down, “We’re twins you know. Identical. My ‘luggage’ is just as nice as his.”
Tesla somehow ignored all the chatter going on over our heads. Between the squealing shrieks of the balloon animals, she murmured to me about her late husband’s secret torments.
“Yves is dead?” I asked in surprise.
“He might as well be,” she said. “He’s so ashamed of himself for breaking the vows of mime by speaking, that he changed his name and now wears a hood to protect his identity.”
She kissed me and I tasted grease paint. Grease paint and something else.
bonus points for using them in order