Special Edition Three Word Challenge- Untitled

This story, while still classified as short, is too long to be posted to Facebook. It is for my special Tweep and favorite Fictional Character On Twitter ;>)

~Ejaculate~posthumously~interfrastically~ Words courtesy of Xander Buchan, @CountDracula on Twitter.com (I really want to know what he was thinking with this word selection!)

I watched the man discreetly through my lowered lashes. I had made sure to be in place before our agreed upon meeting time so that I could watch for his arrival.

 He walked towards me with a swagger. His vivid gaze stared straight ahead, as if he wouldn’t deign to meet the eye of anyone nearby, even by accident. He wore an impressively tailored suit, Savile Row if I wasn’t mistaken. He carried a cane, formed out of some exotic wood. The cane was obviously for appearances, as his gait was unhindered by anything other than his demeanor of superiority.

 I made up my mind to dislike him intensely. His handsome face and well formed figure added weight to my opinion that he was an arrogant rogue. No matter; I didn’t have to like him to work with him.

 By this time, he was directly in front of me, and he stopped short when he spotted the garishly patterned scarf around my neck that we had agreed was to be our symbol of recognition.

 Bowing to me, he asked, “May I help you with your troublesome parasol, Milady?”

 “Yes, thank you, Sir, I would appreciate a new one.” I replied, completing our coded greeting.

 I took his arm and caught a whiff of his cologne. I held my silk kerchief up to my nose so as not to be tempted to revel in his scent. We walked a ways, and ducked down a narrow alleyway, then another. Exiting out the other end of the second alley brought us into another world entirely.

 Gone were the neat townhouses with their well-mannered flower boxes and wrought iron gates. Gone, too, was the sparkling cobblestone street, the smell of roses emanating from Haightbury Park, and the bright sunshine overhead. Here, the shambling buildings crowded out the sky, the street was buried beneath inches of muck, and the smell was a vomitous combination of rotten fish, human offal, and only God knew what else.

 My scrap of silk did little to filter out the odours, and I tightened my grip on my consort’s arm without thinking.

 He smirked down at me, aware of my reaction. I deliberately loosened my grip and stepped a few inches further away from him. He tsk’ed and pulled me back to his side, even closer than I had originally been.

 “Let’s deal with this matter interfrastically, shall we?” I responded primly.

 “We’ve arrived.” He announced, ignoring my supercilious tone. We had stopped in front of a tavern. The painted sign barely hanging on over the doorway announced we were at the “Three Wenches.” Excellent.

 A drunken sot of a man came barreling through the doorway, and spat a voluminous stream of foulness that barely missed the tips of my boots.

 “Hey! Watch it!” I cried angrily, dodging the newly formed puddle of oral ejaculate.

 The sot leered, and waggled his eyebrows at me. “You wan’ to get a room, Princess?” He slurred.

 “I should think not, you disgusting creature!” I cried, outraged at his proposition.

 My consort spoke up. “Besides, the lady is with me. Move aside, wrench.” His tone brooked no room for argument, and the inebriated louse scurried away, reeling from one side of the street to the other.

 We entered the tavern, and I shuddered in distaste. The interior was even worse than the exterior. A barmaid sidled up to us, one of the lauded Three, I presumed.

 "Wha’ can I get for ye fine lady and gent’l’man, a pint or a room, hmm?” The toothless grin splitting her pockmarked face was more scary than welcoming.

 “We’re here to see Dunlop. Take us to him.” My consort ordered.

 “Oh! Well, thas’ goin’ to be a problem, see. “ She batted her eyelashes coyly.

 He sighed, and fishing a coin from his pocket, tossed it to her. She caught it with a flash of her hand.

 “Now, can you please?” He prompted when she still didn’t move.

 “Thank ye for the coin, kin’ Sir, but I can no’ take you to Dunlop.”

 “What ever do you mean?” I interrupted the exchange. “Take us to Dunlop, now!”

 She smirked at me. “Dunlop has been dead these pas’ two days.” She announced triumphantly.

 Oh, Good Gracious. We were doomed! My consort asked where he was laid out, and ordered the barmaid to take us to the man, regardless.

 “What on earth for?” I whispered as we followed the serving wench down a wretched hallway.

 “So we can get answers.” He replied calmly.

 “What, posthumously off his body?” I scoffed.

 He grinned mischievously at me, and continued pulling me along. “If necessary.”

 I knew I didn’t like this man with good reason.