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Winnifred Von Lowenkreuz hadn’t been some swooning romantic. She came across as cold, blunt, and razor-tongued. Yet she had compelled you because of that, rather in spite of that. The back and forth of flirt and jab, of trying to figure her out, and prodding her to try and find cracks in the ice- said cracks not coming out as some shy lady, but a confident, calculating woman that challenged you in every way. When you had slept with each other, it hadn’t been precluded by a confession, but by basically daring each other to get to bed. Owl 3, as she had been called as her code name then, was like no woman you’d ever been with, and she had insisted, from your coupling to your parting, that you were best off considering your time with her a brief fling, at best.
Yet you had spent so, so long thinking back that it was not possible. Now on top of that, this supposedly little, insignificant thing had resulted in the birth of your son. Of the declared heir to the name and house of a noble family.
You had been undeniably fixated on her, but did she ever feel the same? She had said her heart and soul were too dead and cold to feel such a thing. And yet. The thing she had said would be best for you would be to forget her. An impossibility.
She wouldn’t appreciate being embraced, being tilted over and kissed like in a romantic moving picture, where there’d be a music swell and a cut to <span class="mu-i">Das Ende</span>. In your heart, you knew you shouldn’t do something like that. Just letting her go was no option either.
So you went to the snow on the ground of the park. Wet, clumpy stuff, ideal for forming a projectile. Two were made ready. No matter what she had thought, you <span class="mu-i">would</span> be getting her attention now. Surprise, Winnie, it’s time for the reunion you thought wouldn’t happen.
…Her ass was rounder than you remembered it. Some stuffing had gotten into the slender thing.
<span class="mu-i">*Paff*</span>
