just minishorts.

I am, really, trying very very hard not to talk about Mark so much. But I can't help it. Sorry sorry. You have to listen to me talk about how much I adore the guy again.

I think I'm permitted to do this because I'm about to get married to the guy, and I ought to adore the guy thoroughly.

Did I mention he's a dream in bed?

About that, later. You must endure me waxing lyrical about the dream that Mark is.

Day Two was a wonder. 10 a.m., and he was calling out to me to let down my long hair.

I looked down, and I saw the guy, no bigger than a box of matches. Even from high above where the coconuts grow on the tree tops, I could see his hunky chunk. I remember my heart leaping a salsa beat.

The anticipation of seeing him in after the entire night of craving was killing me. As he climbed my braids, I had to suppress my suicidal urge to leap out of the window so that I could be in his arms immediately. Still, I kept my vigilance and when he came, his arms wrapped around my waist (to keep steady, the hike was tiring-mah) and our lips clasped in a wet 'I missed you' kiss.

After what seemed like forever, we emerged breathless. He stared into my eyes, then he said,

'I brought the silk. How long you need to weave the rope?'
'What rope?'
'For you to escape. The one that we will tie to the bed post.'
'Oh. Why should I want to escape?'
'So that we can get away from here.'
'But I liked being tied to the bed post.'

His eyes bored into mine, and with a muffled sigh, he covered my mouth with his mouth again. Sweet.

'Hrrph… you're intoxicating.'
'I use Poison.'
'You sure you won't kill me?'
'I'm supposed to melt your heart.'
'It's already gone. Empty. Devoid. I am without my heart. I've lost mine to you.'

The kind of things you can only read in those Mills & Boons stories–Mark made all these come out alive, 'pom! pom!', they would leap out of his mouth.

How many women can get all that in a guy nowadays? I ask you?

And Mark is a hamsap fella. (Apparently most men are, unless they have homosexual tendencies.) Besides, I have been known to be irresistable. Many people in this part of Fairytale-land have spread legends about my so-called beauty.

His hands kept roaming and moving.

I moaned.

They moved up.

I moaned.

They moved down.

I moaned.

They moved up again.

I moaned.

They moved down and under.

I moaned.

They got under. And they moved up again.

I moaned. And I moaned again.

'Eh. You're wearing a corset?'

I moaned. I moaned. I moaned. I moaned.

He pulled the whole top off me.

'Why lah you wear corset? How to get this thing off?'

I didn't know. I just moaned and moaned and moaned.

OK. I think I wrote too much. I'm getting horny. I'll be back later. Promise.

Previously on Rapunzel Speaks:
RS 1: My name and how I came to be
RS 2: That famous long hair of mine
RS 3: About the silk rope
RS 4: Why Mark

Minishorts asked me, 'Why Mark?'

To be awfully truthful, I don't know. Really. Maybe if circumstances were not as they were, it would have been a different story altogether. But I was trapped in a tower, far away from the rest of civilization, and life was a complete bore.

I was touched that a man would go all the way as to look for a tower containing a girl with the longest hair in the world. I was impressed that he actually took the trouble to think about ways to take me away.

He was a Prince. Every girl wants to marry a Prince.

He was a looker. He had a fantastic body and I couldn't stop oogling over his abs. He had a long… urm. His eyes were dreamy, and everytime he stared at me I would feel like stripping for his pleasure.

And his name was Mark. It was easy for me to croon 'Mark Korrrr' everytime he appeared. Amazing.

He came every day, without fail. After I got out of the tower he told me that it was easy to take leave from work when you were the heir to a kingdom and everything else in it.

Mother's daily visits were set at about 5 p.m., after office hours (an enchantress has to work, you see) so Mark was clever enough to arrive at 10 a.m. sharp. Day One was spent talking to me and telling me about his life and the kingdom he was about to take over, and how he needed to find a queen,

'You seem like the perfect person.'

It wasn't easy to believe, at first. We had just met for less than 24 hours and he had already felt like marrying me?

'You're desperate to find a queen so that your dad will pass you the reigns, is that so?'
'No.'
'Then?'
'I've heard about you for a long time.'
'I see. I'm THAT famous huh?'
'Rather. You're Rapunzel the Ravishing.'
'My reputation precedes me.'
'You would be a good queen.'

When someone says that to you, it's hard not to fall in love. When that someone looks like an adonis from heaven, it's even harder to remain innocent. At the point where he said I would be a good queen, we stared at each other for what seeemed like an eternity, and then our lips locked in the sweetest promise of love and devotion.

I felt as if someone had sucked me out of a vacuum cleaner bag when we parted.

By 4.30 p.m., I was reluctant to chase him away. I wanted to get out with him, but Mother was coming.

Day Two, and by 9.30 a.m., I was looking out the window, waiting for Mark to arrive and call, 'Rapunzel, Rapunzel, let down your long hair.'

Love is truly miraculous.

Previously on Rapunzel Speaks:
RS 1: My name and how I came to be
RS 2: That famous long hair of mine
RS 3: About the silk rope