I pass you; say it..."
"Hello, Frits."
"Perfect, hold my arm now, see? He's stuck, never to free himself again. And now, a few steps ahead, there's this brick sticking up, and you stumble and fall. Pay attention now, Titania, this is where it goes, you've got to grab him with sex, it's your only weapon in the end. He's got to think of the actual insertion, he's got to really want the ultimate contact. Do you get me?"
"Can't we kiss? I like kissing too."
"Yes, sure. It'll be a start, you can do that too, I don't mind. So you fall and pull up your dress, all the way up, he looks right into you, but only for a moment, for then it's gone. You pull your dress down again, if you stay there in your full glory, you overdo it, it'll be the end of it. Get me? Let's try. Move up, gentlemen, take your stools. Sit up straight, your heads will have to be on the same level as if you were standing. You're the committee. All set?"
"We're the committee," Grijpstra said.
Titania stumbled and fell. Dress up, dress down.
"No," Grijpstra said. "I didn't see anything. Too fast."
Beelema agreed. "Well try again."
Later.
"Are you crazy?" Titania said. "I won't fall all night. And I'm not on show for nothing, certainly not underneath. Have you all gone out of your minds?" She took a deep breath.
"Don't say it!" Beelema had raised his arms. "That's it. You're in the right frame of mind now. Let's go."
11
It was Saturday night and the lush heat of summer hung under a clear and starry sky. Two red-beaked geese floated in the Emperorscanal and had almost reached the bridge at the edge of the Brewerscanal. The herring-stall on the bridge had closed.
Grijpstra and de Gier stood next to the stall and peered cautiously around it. Kiran sniffed at a tree. Beelema and Zhaver were present but invisible. A couple, arm in arm, approached slowly. The woman, clearly visible in the light of the bridge's lampposts, emitted a serene beauty from every particle of her body and clothing. She talked to the man in a low voice. She stumbled and fell. Frits Fortune reacted in fear and concern, he bent down, his arms reached. Titania groaned. Her skirt, made of pure and delicate wool and matching her long and elegant jacket, slipped up, ignoring the limits of decency.
A gentleman, in a three-piece summer suit and wearing an old-fashioned expensive felt hat, cycled toward the bridge. One of the pedals of his cycle clanged against the metal chain guard. The geese appeared at the other side of the bridge and greeted their new view, honking softly. Titania corrected her unruly skirt. Frits Fortune, with diminishing fear and growing concern, lifted the fallen woman and remembered how, in clear and almost touchable detail, the lady's thighs were soft and pink, and how they held and would still hold a promise of curly down that in turn protected a moist NO, he would think no further. He asked if she had hurt herself. She said she had, poor Titania.
On her feet, she leaned into his arms. The geese honked loudly, the cyclist was close. Beelema and Zhaver stepped back into the shadows between a pickup and a van, Grijpstra and de Gier held on to each other. Titania's lips pursed, opened slightly, her long lashes partly hid her soft and inviting eyes. Frits's mouth drew close to Titania's, the cyclist braked, the cycle fell, the object the cyclist pointed was made of blue steel.
"HO!" Grijpstra shouted.
De Gier was running, no, De Gier was running, no, leaping. The cyclist flew sideward, propelled by the sudden contact with the sergeant's last and far-ranging leap. The shot rang out. The bullet whistled and splashed. The red-beaked geese flapped and blew in anger. The cyclist's hat dropped, and his wig, beard, and mustache moved to the side of her face.
Titania, suddenly released by Frits Fortune, staggered, stumbled, and fell. Her skirt, much higher now, translated the indicated into the obvious until once more corrected, as Titania, unaided, struggled up. Beelema and
"Hello, Frits."
"Perfect, hold my arm now, see? He's stuck, never to free himself again. And now, a few steps ahead, there's this brick sticking up, and you stumble and fall. Pay attention now, Titania, this is where it goes, you've got to grab him with sex, it's your only weapon in the end. He's got to think of the actual insertion, he's got to really want the ultimate contact. Do you get me?"
"Can't we kiss? I like kissing too."
"Yes, sure. It'll be a start, you can do that too, I don't mind. So you fall and pull up your dress, all the way up, he looks right into you, but only for a moment, for then it's gone. You pull your dress down again, if you stay there in your full glory, you overdo it, it'll be the end of it. Get me? Let's try. Move up, gentlemen, take your stools. Sit up straight, your heads will have to be on the same level as if you were standing. You're the committee. All set?"
"We're the committee," Grijpstra said.
Titania stumbled and fell. Dress up, dress down.
"No," Grijpstra said. "I didn't see anything. Too fast."
Beelema agreed. "Well try again."
Later.
"Are you crazy?" Titania said. "I won't fall all night. And I'm not on show for nothing, certainly not underneath. Have you all gone out of your minds?" She took a deep breath.
"Don't say it!" Beelema had raised his arms. "That's it. You're in the right frame of mind now. Let's go."
11
It was Saturday night and the lush heat of summer hung under a clear and starry sky. Two red-beaked geese floated in the Emperorscanal and had almost reached the bridge at the edge of the Brewerscanal. The herring-stall on the bridge had closed.
Grijpstra and de Gier stood next to the stall and peered cautiously around it. Kiran sniffed at a tree. Beelema and Zhaver were present but invisible. A couple, arm in arm, approached slowly. The woman, clearly visible in the light of the bridge's lampposts, emitted a serene beauty from every particle of her body and clothing. She talked to the man in a low voice. She stumbled and fell. Frits Fortune reacted in fear and concern, he bent down, his arms reached. Titania groaned. Her skirt, made of pure and delicate wool and matching her long and elegant jacket, slipped up, ignoring the limits of decency.
A gentleman, in a three-piece summer suit and wearing an old-fashioned expensive felt hat, cycled toward the bridge. One of the pedals of his cycle clanged against the metal chain guard. The geese appeared at the other side of the bridge and greeted their new view, honking softly. Titania corrected her unruly skirt. Frits Fortune, with diminishing fear and growing concern, lifted the fallen woman and remembered how, in clear and almost touchable detail, the lady's thighs were soft and pink, and how they held and would still hold a promise of curly down that in turn protected a moist NO, he would think no further. He asked if she had hurt herself. She said she had, poor Titania.
On her feet, she leaned into his arms. The geese honked loudly, the cyclist was close. Beelema and Zhaver stepped back into the shadows between a pickup and a van, Grijpstra and de Gier held on to each other. Titania's lips pursed, opened slightly, her long lashes partly hid her soft and inviting eyes. Frits's mouth drew close to Titania's, the cyclist braked, the cycle fell, the object the cyclist pointed was made of blue steel.
"HO!" Grijpstra shouted.
De Gier was running, no, De Gier was running, no, leaping. The cyclist flew sideward, propelled by the sudden contact with the sergeant's last and far-ranging leap. The shot rang out. The bullet whistled and splashed. The red-beaked geese flapped and blew in anger. The cyclist's hat dropped, and his wig, beard, and mustache moved to the side of her face.
Titania, suddenly released by Frits Fortune, staggered, stumbled, and fell. Her skirt, much higher now, translated the indicated into the obvious until once more corrected, as Titania, unaided, struggled up. Beelema and
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