Wild Fiction

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1
The author shuffled the papers together, squared the edges, and smiled. It was the best work he had ever done and he was feeling very pleased.
‘Your starter, sir,’ he looked up at the waiter and smiled again.
‘Thank you,’ he said moving the papers to one side. He picked up a small fork and fiddled with the asparagus tips.
‘Your starter, madam,’ a waitress said arriving at the table.
The author’s head shot up from his plate. Sitting opposite him was a vision of beauty that surpassed his wildest expectations. The waitress placed a small bowl in front of her. The author’s heart floated up into his throat. A warm fuzzy feeling made every square inch of his skin tingle with excitement. He knew exactly who she was, why she was there and why she was the most beautiful woman in the room.
Bon appétit,’ the waitress said and left.
The author held still, his fork hanging in the air, half way between his plate and mouth. The woman sitting opposite him smiled before dropping her eyes to the food in front of her. A white fleshy fruit pockmarked by what appeared to be poppy seeds, filled her bowl to the brim. She picked up a spoon and began to scoop it up in large mouthfuls.
The author stared at her. She was wearing the cream Calvin Klein dress he had written about in his notes. Size eight, it fitted as if it had been tailor-made for her. Everything was how he had envisaged it. From the silky blonde hair on her head, the startling blue eyes, high cheekbones, full lips, the delicate yet strong shoulders and firm perfect breasts. His mind jumped to the flat stomach, round bun shaped buttocks, lithe smooth legs, and elegant petite feet hidden by the table. A welling in his groin made his body tremble. The piece of asparagus dangling so tenuously on his fork fell off and landed in his lap. He looked down at it. A thin green penis lying on a starched white serviette. Underneath it, the real thing, excited and half-ready.
‘H-H-Hello,’ the author said.
She ignored him and continued her ravished eating. The bowl was already half empty.
‘I created you,’ the author said.

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