For your reading pleasure, Tempest presents yet another exquisite example of romantic narrative…

Beside the Byzantine Passion
by Pamela Chaykin St. Verne

   No; the still-proud Princess was not pleased. Not at all! Neither the smell of new-cut grass nor the Red Chamber, remembering its bloody history impressed her, and it was all because he wasn’t there. Intellectually, she realized that the Chief’s handsome son, the foreign, green and pleasant masterful tutor who had transformed her from a mere girl into a real woman, had a full life in which he was prospecting for silver in the Andes, and he could not be expected to hold any consideration for the pleasure of one unspeakably unspeakably pagan girl. Intellectually, she knew this. And yet…
   Truly, it had been a most feline, inchoate day when his scheming partner, Adolph had brought him to her attention.
   At long last an inrush of cool air as the door was flung open shattered her composure into a million pagan pieces! She gasped. Surely it could not be — but it was! At the door, the flashing and masculine face she had come to know so well! “Our love will outlast eternity,” he blurted in his curiously endearing fashion while the glow of renewed love gradually overcame her mounting desire for dinner. “I need you, honey bun!”
   It was then that as the glow of renewed love gradually overcame her mounting desire for dinner, she knew that life without him was unthinkable, if not untamed, incarnadine. Wthout him, could she ever have wordlessly let her body melt against his own?

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