Tristan's Loins

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Her head thumped upon the computer desk
twice, harder the last time for emphasis
. Ouch!
She lifted
her head and glared at the blinking cursor in defeat. Hours spent
looking at that pulsating object was making her cross-eyed. Sitting
up in her chair with a determined look, she reached for the
keyboard and then just stopped.
Ugh!
Her head went down
again.

"For the love of God! Can't we all just live
happily ever after?" Selene Weston cried in despair and frustrated
anger, feeling pathetic to have drawn a total blank. "Just fall in
love already! You’re making me crazy!"

This was more difficult than she had thought
when she had set out to write a romance novel eighteen months
prior. Now it was an obsession to find just the right time for
blistering passion to unfold onto the page, leaving her breathless
with dizzying...nausea, yes really sick, gut-wrenching nausea. How
do you write about something you never had?

Selene Weston lifted her head and stared at
the computer screen resentfully. The beauty of blaming inanimate
objects was that they could not defend themselves. She wanted to
smash her computer. It was her fault the main characters in her
novel were idiots.

Her hero Tristan swaggered around waving his
sword for no apparent reason. His engorged, enflamed, laughably
out-of-proportionate manhood took up five pages somewhere near the
beginning of chapter three. That much-praised asset of his
fluctuated in size depending upon her mood swings. He always seemed
to be bulging or swelling down there. Poor guy, either his prostate
was enlarged or she needed a man!

The heroine Rhiannon was so stupid, she
wanted to kill her off after the first chapter. The spoiled snotty,
heiress whined through the first five chapters, sat in icy silence
for two more, and now she was all hot and bothered for the hero?
Yeah, ok, right. Can you say 'psycho bitch'? Get some
antidepressants. Oh right, they did not have those back then.
Bummer for you!

The plot did more to drive the pair apart
than bring them together. Maybe it was not such a good idea making
Tristan kill Rhiannon's Dad back in chapter three.
Hmm...
Having him force himself on Rhiannon in chapter five
hardly helped matters between them.
Nice guy, when do we run
away together?

And if that was not enough to drive her bat
shit, the villain, Lord Stephen de Montfort, Tristan's uncle and
nemesis, was more interesting than the hero. Even if he was a
lying, murderous bastard, at least he had depth and goals,
something the others seriously lacked.

Selene reviewed her notebook on her desk
going over the outline again. The bad thing about outlining a love
scene: it was just like faking an orgasm and twice as unsatisfying.
Just the thought of one of 'those' wondrous things missing in her
own life made her avoid the issue altogether in her book. Her own
present lack of sex was evident in her writing. If she was not
getting any, either was Rhiannon. Tristan was keeping his hot
flaming man sword in his breeches awhile longer.

Her eyes grew tired and she put away her
notes. A glance at the clock told her it was time to put it down
for the night. She was getting nowhere fast and had to work in the
morning.

Selene shut down the computer and gazed about
her small, one bedroom apartment in despair. Some boxes had not
even been unpacked yet. Her pictures still leaned against the wall.
Her knick-knacks were all still boxed too. Unpacking would mean she
accepted this. That would take time and less denial that she was
staying here permanently. In all fairness, it had been six months.
It was time to unpack. Jim was not open for reconciliation. No, her
marriage was pretty much over.

She did not want to think about Jim now, or
her ten-year marriage that went down the tubes. Dwelling upon
failure was never conducive to successful writing. Right now that
was all she had to cling too besides Tristan's pulsating man rod.
She giggled despite herself.

The hero in her book was a figment of her
imagination. He was impossibly tall and gorgeous with long golden
hair and dark, penetrating blue eyes. He was also so perfect that
even she did not find him believable anymore
. No wonder Rhiannon
hates you! You’re probably gay. I wrote you gay, and she knows,
Selene thought with an evil chuckle as she entered her bedroom and
slid out of her clothes. She turned on the shower and waited for
the water to heat up as she berated every word she had ever written
about those two.

The shower felt wonderful and she was
slightly less miserable when she got out. She dressed in her
pajamas and settled down to check her alarm. Six in the morning
came around early.

Selene felt like the alarm went off as soon
as her head hit the pillow. Waiting for coffee, she checked her
email. Her eyes filled with hope to see a message there from Jim.
She clicked it open. After reading the terse, impersonal message
regarding the settlement meeting with his attorney that day she
sighed, wishing she had forgotten it.

Today was the day they finalized the
settlement for the divorce. Jim was being more than generous just
to get her to sign and avoid another six months in court. He bought
her out of the house, her half of the stock portfolio, kept the dog
for her, and the previous bills they amassed together.

She got a huge chunk of money, and nothing
else, not even her dignity. In truth, she should be glad to walk
away from their marriage with a clean slate and a six-figure
balance in her checking account. Most of her divorced friends said
she was crazy to fight his offer.

Maybe if she was not still feeling the burn
to know his reasons for such generosity. The five-foot six
gorgeous, blonde secretary with her perfect figure came to mind.
Yeah, Jim had a reason to rush matters. Ginny would not wait around
forever.

His stunning secretary had quite effortlessly
roped and tied her husband, making him all googly-eyed and sick
over her like a fourteen year-old boy. Jim had been hooked line and
sinker from the minute the temporary service sent her over to work
at his law firm.

Ginny could not type and did not know a thing
about secretarial work, but she won her husband over within a week
of being on the job. Soon, he was working late or not coming home
at all, claiming he fell asleep in his office.

Selene should have seen it coming, but like
all women, she was blindsided in her belief of her marriage and her
husband. Maybe she could have forgiven Jim, but it was all very
much water under the bridge now. He was in love.

Jim wanted to marry Ginny when the divorce
was final. That was the most devastating blow of all. He even moved
the woman into their house not a week after she moved out. He
promised his secretary everything he had always denied Selene. For
that, she was furious. She had worked her tail off putting Jim
through law school. Was this was the thanks she now received?

Eyes filled with tears of anger and
self-pity. The coffee maker's chugging ended, pulling her out of
her misery
. Get over it!
She poured a cup and scowled down
at the steaming dark brew. The best thing for her to do was to cut
away from Jim cleanly and put it behind her. It was not as if they
had anything but a stock portfolio between them now.

Just then, her computer beeped. She frowned.
She knew she shut it off when she finished reading her email. She
went over to her computer desk and hit the keyboard and the screen
lit up.

A dim room popped up on the screen. It was a
medieval room with a stone floor, huge bed, a table and a single
chair, and not much else. The hearth was crackling with a fire. The
man paced upon the screen, dressed in medieval garb and looked like
one of the cover models from one of her books. His expression was
grim.

Selene went to clear the screen to get rid of
the interactive pop-up and nothing happened. The man was still
there, pacing in agitation.

"What now?" she wondered aloud as she sat to
tinker with the computer and clear the screen of the intrusive
pop-up image.

The man stopped pacing and the sword dangling
at his side was drawn. He drew his sword from his belt and held it
aloft, looking upward his expression murderous now.

"Reveal yourself, witch!" He shouted in
heavily accented English, making her jump as he brandished the
sword and spun around looking for the voice in every corner of the
room. "I can hear you! Come out!"

Selene stared at the man on the screen,
thinking this was one very clever pop-up indeed.

"You cannot hide from me, sorceress!" the man
raged as he waved his sword around. "I can hear you breathing! I
know you’re here somewhere. Come out! Show yourself!"

Selene stared in fascination at the man,
noting his long blond hair and finely chiseled features. Even his
piercing blue eyes reminded her of Tristan, the character in her
book.

"Whatever, I'm not buying anything pal, so go
away." She tried to clear the screen, thinking it some sort of an
advertisement.

"I’m not selling you anything, wench!" he
shouted and kicked the chair out of his way as he rounded the
table, staring up at the ceiling. "Where are you?"

Selene's hand fell away from the computer,
eyes growing wide as his words registered. No, he did not just
answer. She really was losing it.

"Keep your shorts on, pal." She fussed with
her settings, trying to shut the computer down. "And the name is
Selene, just Selene and not wench!"

"Come out then, Just Selene, and we will
talk," the man shouted upward. "I’ll not slay you, Just Selene. I
just wish to talk with you."

Selene froze at his words. "You heard
me?"

"Of course I heard you!" the man snapped as
he stared around the four corners of the room. "But I cannot see
you, Just Selene. Enough of your sorcery! Come out at once and I’ll
forgive this transgression. I’ll be lenient."

"Oh my God!" Selene whispered as she covered
her mouth, fear filling her eyes. Either she was insane, or the man
on the screen heard her and talked to her.

"This is no time to pray, Just Selene." The
man sheathed his sword in his belt. "You have toyed with me enough
this night, and I’ll know why!"

"This is not happening!" Selene backed her
computer chair up, away from the desk.

"Yes, this is very much happening!" The man
scowled. "You have invaded my room! You will come out and speak
with me, witch!"

"I'm losing my mind." Her eyes widened as the
man sat at the table and leaned upon his elbows. "You’re not
real."

"I’m very real, Just Selene," he argued in a
clipped voice. "It is you who remains in shadow."

"My name is Selene! Only Selene!"

"Only Selene? That is a stupid name," the man
commented and shrugged. "Your parents should be horsewhipped for
their ignorance."

Selene fumed at the man's arrogance. This had
to be some sort of a live web cam. She looked around the desk,
wondering if Darcy and Maggie played some sort of practical joke on
her. Her two best girlfriends would do something like this. It was
not even her birthday. What was going on?

"You have grown quiet, Only Selene." The man
rubbed his stubbly jaw. "Have you considered my offer of
leniency?"

"Oh shut up!" Selene looked around the desk.
"I'm going to kill Darcy and Maggie for this! I know this is all a
joke."

"You do not speak to me thusly, wench!" the
man shouted in rage. "If there is any slaying to be done, it will
be done by me! Who are these Darcy and Maggie creatures you speak
of? I find nothing funny about this, Only Selene."

"Oh you’re good!" Selene started looking
around the floor. "I'm going to find where you’re plugged in at and
we will see about this."

"Plugged in?" he asked, his handsome face
confused. "You do speak oddly, Only Selene."

"Can it, buddy!" she snapped as she crawled
around underneath her desk. "We both know Darcy and Maggie hired
you to annoy me!"

The man made a frustrated sound, his face
reddening at her words. "I’m not this Buddy person you refer to!
I’m Tristan de Montfort! You go too far! First, you invade my room
and refuse to come out, and now you imply I’m some hireling of
these foul creatures you speak of. Enough of your foolishness! I
demand you come out!"