Free Sandra Hill - [Creole] by Sweeter Savage Love

wiggled his eyebrows at her in a lascivious Groucho Marx-style, which caused his spectacles to slip down his nose—“female cadavers.”
    A shiver of foreboding rippled over her skin.
    “Oh, and did I mention I’m a taxidermist, too?” Then he crooked a finger at her. “Here, kitty, kitty.”
     
    “I can’t believe I let you talk me into this,” Harriet huffed out, “Dumb, Dumber and Dumbest just added a new gang member. The dumb-ee. Me.”
    She could barely breathe, wrapped snugly as she was in a linen sheet. Not to mention hanging over Etienne’s shoulder with her butt in the air. They were passing through the corridors of the railway cars to the freight car near the end. The only good thing was that they’d untied her hands and feet, with Etienne pocketing her panties and stockings.
    “Shhhh,” he hissed. “You’re supposed to be dead.”
    “Make way, make way. The undertaker is acomin’,” Cain called out to no one in particular as he spearheaded their macabre procession. It was after noon, and most passengers were in the dining cars toward the front of the train, but there was always the chance they might run into someone. So Etienne had compelled her to make a choice…either cooperate in their screwball caper, or he’d conk her on the head with his revolver.
    Some choice!
    “Stop jabbering. Cain, we’ll wait here while you check up ahead.”
    “Yassuh, master, suh,” Cain replied sarcastically, then mumbled something that sounded like, “Up yours, master, suh.”
    Meanwhile, Etienne leaned against a wall and used the time to clamp a palm over her tush, chuckling. “Have I told you, you have a wonderful ass?”
    “About fifty times,” she muttered, “and if you don’t stop touching it, I’m going to dislocate yours. Geez, it’s hot in this sheet, and your shoulder is growing bonier by the minute. Can’t you put me down for a while?”
    “No. And I’d be willing to wager you’ve let me touch it, and much more, in those dreams of yours.” His persistence on the subject of her tush was remarkable, especially for a guy no longer attracted to her.
    Her silence spoke volumes.
    So did his.
    “Stop smirking,” she chastened him.
    “How do you know I’m smirking?”
    “I’m an expert on body language. I even wrote a book on it, Bodyspeak . I can tell by the posture of your body.”
    “I thought you were an expert on women’s fantasies.”
    “I am. I’m an expert on lots of things.”
    “I’Il bet you are, darlin’.”
    “You’re smirking again.”
    “I know.”
    “I swear, you’re at the top of the list in my next book.”
    He said nothing.
    “Don’t you want to know what my next book will be?”
    “Not particularly.”
    His supposed lack of interest didn’t deter her. “ The MCP Scale: How to Identify a Male Chauvinist Pig .” When he still didn’t respond, she went on doggedly, “That’s why I know so many dumb-men jokes. I intend to weave them throughout the book.”
    “What do shove-nest pigs have to do with dumb men and scales? And how do you weave a riddle?”
    “Shove-nest? Huh? Oh.” She laughed. “Not shove-nest. Chauvinist. A male chauvinist pig exhibits the ultimate in obnoxious, crude, swaggering, oversexed, egotistical behavior of all the male species. A walking ape.”
    “Who says I’m oversexed?”
    “And furthermore, since I’ve known you, you’ve done a whole lot of things that fall into a ten on my MCP rating scale.”
    “A ten being the worst, I assume.” He didn’t sound at all offended by her assessment of him.
    Before she could educate him further, Etienne’s body went tense, and he pushed away from the wall. Harrietheard rushing footsteps then, followed by Cain’s worried voice.
    “The conductor’s approaching…in the next car…two government men boarded the train in Memphis…a search is on for three bank robbers,” he panted out.
    “Bank robbers?” Etienne snorted.
    “Bank robbers?” Harriet repeated into his back.