Wild Fiction

‘Um...yes...okay.’ He turned to the door and then turned back to her and opened his mouth. He thought better of it, shut his mouth again, and walked down the stairs and into the kitchen.
‘Two shakes of a lamb’s tail,’ he muttered to himself. ‘That’s so bloody cliché. Where have I heard that before?’ he spoke softly and scratched his head as he thought. ‘That’s it,’ he said after a moment. ‘Pulp Fiction, Uma Thurman tells John Travolta that she’ll be ready in “two shakes of a lamb’s tail.” That’s so unoriginal,’ he said shaking his head and opening the cupboard below the sink.
He polished his shoes until they gleamed from every angle before slipping his feet into them. He decorticated (he had wanted to use that word for a long time) an apple and cut it into small pieces and placed it in a bowl.
The author had just taken a large bite from a piece of jam and toast when Genevieve walked in. He stopped chewing and his mouth clamped shut when he saw her. Dramatic curls of auburn hair wafted in behind her. They appeared to be floating on a cushion of air as she shook her head. Her red lips parted showing two rows of white teeth; the two incisors slightly overlapped adding an unforgettable complexity to her smile. Her light summer dress clung to the curves of her body threatening to expose her lack of underwear. It was as if she had just stepped off the front cover of Vogue.
‘What do you think?’ she asked twirling on her toes. She held her arms down preventing the dress from rising above the top of her thighs.
It was enough to make the author forget that he still had a mouthful of food. ‘Ummmggghh,’ he said dribbling soggy toast and jam down his chin before rushing over to the sink to clean himself.
She giggled and sat down to her bowl of apple pieces.