Dec 17, 2009

Three or Nine Inches?

Each day I received more than 20 or so junk mails. They are extremely annoying, wasting my time to delete them and costing me download time too.

But I've turned the nuisance into inspiration once. Here is an excerpt about 9 inches. No, the story is called:


Three Inches


She sighed again and decided to earn her keep and opened the letters that were just delivered by the postman: bill, junk mail, booking and more bills. Nothing could interest her until she came upon a pink envelop with a card inside, addressed to Mr. William Darcy and marked private.

Tomorrow would be Valentine’s Day. Could this be a Valentine’s card from his present girl friend? Did he have a lover now? Why was it sent here?

Elizabeth racked her brain and thought hard. She had been feasting on gossip magazines since she came here but she hadn’t seen any recent photos of him with any women.

“Private, but not personal. I’m the secretary here…” She murmured. Curiosity was killing her. After a few minutes of deliberation, she decided to open the card.

It was a cheap bland Valentine’s card with a red heart on the front. Inside, there was just a short few sentences of illegible writings with many blots:

My dear Darce,

I t’s time of the y ear. Get your 3 inches out and s hag some girls wit less.
Ig ore their comp ains and en joy yourself!

Your best friend
B


“Shit!” Elizabeth dropped the card and swore, “What did Bingley tell him to do?”

She picked up the card and read it again. “Get your 3 inches out and shag some girls witless? Ignore their complaints and enjoy yourself? What sort of best friend was he? Why would any girl want to complain if Darcy shags her? I sure wouldn’t complain. The man is scorching hot! But hang on! 3 inches! 3 inches? How many centimetres is that?”

Elizabeth scratched her head and wished she had done better in class with mathematics. She hated the imperial system. Luckily Google was right in front of her. She typed in “length converter” and clicked on the first website.

Three inches = 7.62 centimetres.

She looked at the ruler on her desk, right in front of her eyes. Surely that could not be! Such a hot guy could not be so badly endowed. He was tall, his hands and feet were big. His shoulders were broad and his biceps strong. She thought back at their tennis lessons. He usually wore loose sport trousers so there was no way she could tell. Anyway, she had not ogled him before. That’s not true. She might have ogled him a little bit, on the legs and the torso, but not there!


You've to go to Steamy Darcy to read the full story.

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I'm the author of The Spinster's Vow, My Darcy Vibrates, Every Savage Can Reproduce, Chemical Fusion, My Darcy Mutates, Really Angelic, Bargain with the Devil, In Quest of Theta Magic and Fire and Cross. My novels have been ranked in the top 50 best-selling romances on Amazon USA or Canada. I write sexy romance in modern, historical, paranormal and science fiction genres. I love food, Pride and Prejudice, travel and tennis. With a Masters degree in Arts, I work in advertising and live in beautiful Sydney. Sounds too tame? You can read my wild stories at steamydarcy.com

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