Though the hazy mist
of pipe smoke the sound of slurping is heard. There is a pause.
Frustrated grunting and moaning is heard before the familiar sounds
of fingers working frantically on a keyboard is heard.
The Keeper of Sheep noisily
slurps the last vestiges of Dr. Pepper as she completes yet another
masterpiece. With a satisfied grin she reaches over and pulls out
the latest porn she stole from the gas station down the street earlier
that week.
S. Berry is her name.
Know it. Love it. Fear it. For that name is responsible for such
classics as Moonstruck and Stud (in its many volumes) along with
a quirky sense of humour only the clinically deranged can appreciate.
Feed the bard or she will be most disappointed.
And we don't want that...
now do we?
