Valentine's Day - can't you just see it?
We spy Kirstie as she's running around her room, fluffing up her slippery silk-covered occasional pillows in a variety of jewel-toned colors and lighting hundreds of vanilla-scented candles and tealights. She's thrown what she thinks is a sexy black-and-white feathered boa around her neck, but what she fails to realize is that the boa doesn't look sexy at all and calls attention to her neck wattles.
Kirstie pants as she bustles around, and she begins to perspire slightly. A mist of sickly rose-scented perfume rises off her heaving bosom, mixed with the faint crisp smell of smoke as a feather from Kirstie's boa floats a bit too close to one of the candles and gets singed.
Finally, Kirstie crawls on hands and knees onto her bed - the satin comforter and slippery pillows make any sort of movement on the bed a challenge. With much effort, Kirstie finally gets herself and her bosoms arranged on the bed and, reaching through a blaze of burning candles, rings a small brass bell on a side table.
A swarthy gentleman enters the room, and Kirstie's eyes gleam hungrily. The man is wearing white cotton drawstring pants and a tight black t-shirt that grips his slim, muscular body tightly. It's not immediately clear whether the man is wearing underwear or not. His muscles tense as he approaches Kirstie, and with a primal snort Kirstie rears up on the bed. The manservant comes closer - closer! Within the short space of thirty seconds, the gentleman has deposited a hot, creamy white, steaming, slippery mound of Jenny Craig fettucine Alfredo onto a tray on the bed. Kirstie dives into the fettucine, making yummy noises as she eats, and gulps down the food while occasionally taking sips of water from a ridiculously ornate crystal goblet, available from Pier One Imports, and screeching "Have you called Jenny yet?" to no one in particular.
The man retreats, disgusted, but as he gets to the door he looks back, and it is then that he glimpses what he at first believes is a rabbit, poking its pink nose and gray whiskers out from under Kirstie's raspberry sherbet-colored satin nightie.
And then the rabbit twitches its whiskers, and he realizes that what he is looking at is is not a rabbit.
And then he runs.
That is all.
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