M. C. Arvanitis



From his rocky viewpoint, T. J. Frog watched the beautiful ladies of the Court wading in the shallow end of the palace pool holding their skimpy see-through clothing high above their knees showing white thighs. Others—he guessed they were the royal princesses—lounged on beach chairs, their naked bodies shining in the sun as maids-in-waiting rubbed perfumed oils on their bodies and kept the goblets filled with cool intoxicating liquor.

Music came from inside the courtyard where the royal musicians played the popular songs of the day. Once in a while, several of the palace escorts would join them in a dance or two, giving each princess the pleasure equally as was required by their position.

T. J. sighed. He should hop back to his wife but she was not as beautiful as these ladies. He wished he could be an escort and flirt with the beautiful ladies (and maybe give them more attention than just dancing). He knew what to do if only he were a human male.

He had asked the disgusting old witch of the swamp for advice. She suggested getting a beautiful lady to kiss him. He had tried every trick he could think of to do so, but whenever he hopped close to one of the ladies she would scream and run away.

Today he noticed one of the shyest maids sitting apart from the others. She looked kind. Maybe she would kiss him.

He hopped close to her. “Hello, beautiful,” he croaked. “How about a little smooch for this poor lonely frog.”

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