My profile is here:
and so far I am on target.
I am writing to share a little part of a scene I wrote where the main character, Sidney boards a Stagecoach for London. The other passengers are a surely Irishman known as The Captain, a pedantic watchmaker from Coventry called John and a rather seductive widow who's husband was once a locksmith...Here is her introducing herself...
'I am a poor widow,' she said without a hint of sorrow. 'He was a locksmith'. The woman managed to load the word locksmith with surprisingly seductive force, treating each part of the word as a pleasurable journey for her tongue. It was long and slender at the 'l', before hidden by rounded, moist lips for the 'o' and a 'ck' that sounded like the door of a private room slamming shut. The 'Sm' caused her to pout her lips and narrow her eyes, as if she was tasting new honey while the 'i' was a palate cleanser preparing for the 'th'. Her 'th' was the most lascivious 'th' that the sound could ever be. Her tongue lingered between her teeth like it was resting after a night of unparalleled bliss. Sidney could not avoid thinking of locks and keys, and keys entering locks and his embarassment ended the conversation for another half hour.'
With that thought, I leave you.