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The Caucasian Captiveturns out to be genuinely funny, especially the three dudes who seem to be a rip-off of the Three Stooges. Oh, and there’s a song about bears. How Russian is that?
“So,” I say when the credits roll. “I guess it’s my turn to sleep on this couch.”
“Actually, I’ve decided to give you the bedroom for perpetuity. I think he finds my presence soothing.” He points at Fluffer’s mansion.
Fluffer’s black eyes glint.
I’m not sure if soothing is the right word—but you do seem like the giant less likely to eat me… at least until you retire from ballet.
“Are you sure?” I eye the couch. “I’m happy to take turns.”
“I insist.”
“Thanks,” I say and get to my feet. “I’d better get to it then.”
He turns off the TV. “You can shower first.”
How nice of him. I head into the shower and take care of business. When I’m done, I put on a nightie that accentuates my curves in the right way—for no reason—and return to get Art.
Oh, my.
Art’s sitting there, cradling Fluffer in his big, strong hands.
My chest feels melty, like frozen banana ice cream.
“Who liked his little dust bath?” Art is crooning. “Who’s my—”
He doesn’t get the chance to finish what he was saying because Fluffer spots me—and leaps out of Art’s hands.
Seriously?
With a loud chirp, the chinchilla beelines into the mansion, the way I would if confronted with a T-Rex.
“I don’t think our pet likes me,” I say, and the hurt in my voice is only partially a joke.
Art looks me up and down in my nightie, and I could swear he appreciates what he sees. The “likes curves theory” is gaining more and more traction—not that it means he wants me.
Still, score one for Lemon.
“We all just need time to get used to each other,” he says, a bit huskily.
Maybe Art could get used to me, but Fluffer’s frightened stare doesn’t inspire much confidence.
“Here.” Art hands me a weird, raisin-like object. “This is a treat they’re supposed to love.”
Our fingers brush, and I feel a pleasant zing ricocheting down my body.
I sniff the berry. No clue.
“What is this?”
“Dried rosehip,” Art says and pulls out another plant thingy. “This is a dandelion root. Another treat.”
He hands it to me, and our fingers brush again.
I’m not sure about the chinchilla, but all this touching is a treat for me, big time.
“Thanks.” I walk over to the mansion and stick the dandelion root inside. “Here, Fluffer, come get it.”
