Welcome to my Blog today. My name is Kat Holmes. I am on location today and will be interviewing the most unusual guest I have ever sponsored here on my personal blog.
Please join me in welcoming Ms. Marble, the entertaining fireplace and mantle inside Jason Reed’s den at the Moore-Reed Mansion.
Ms. Marble, I must admit your request for this interview came as a complete surprise. It isn’t every day I find myself at any location, let alone on location interviewing an admittedly beautiful, but basically inanimate fireplace.
Why thank you, Ms Holmes for the lovely compliment. It’s nice to have someone praising the richness of my texture rather than complaining about having to polish me. I’m also pleased that you did not scoff at my desire for this interview.
I was intrigued though. May I ask why you wanted this interview?
Well, thanks to modern technology and digital television, I’ve been able to observe how today’s computers are being used to promote the stars, or lead characters, if you will, filling the pages, or hand held readers of today’s publishing world, and since I play such a vital role in The Pendulum Swings, I thought it was only appropriate and natural I offer myself and my unique observations about the—household to a savvy blogger such as yourself. I will admit that I have been following your July Bash and found your approach, refreshing.
Please do not think this next question is rude, but Ms, Marble, your ability to observe the day-to-day dynamics of the Moore-Reed household seems a bit limited, from where I sit.
You mean because I am a stationary fireplace unable to disconnect from this wall and travel all over the house?
Well, actually, yes! It seems to me you’re limited to what happens in this room, a very staid, even though well appointed, man’s den. How can you offer my readers a comprehensive picture of what goes on in the entire Moore-Reed household when you are permanently affixed to that wall?
That’s where most people have difficulty seeing the grander picture, Ms. Holmes. Although it is true I am forced by logistics, to remain somewhat sequestered in this room, what takes place in this room, and more importantly, what I myself participate in is, in my opinion, the most decisive part of The Pendulum Swings.
I know I do not look like it in the harsh light of day, but come around midnight, and this marble lady shines so brightly the master actually found me a most engaging dance partner…to begin with.
Ms. Marble, are you saying what I think you’re saying?
Oh yes. My marble is very smooth to the touch, and my bricks are well stacked. You look skeptical, but I am made from Imported Italian Marble, and when I begin to sway…
You and Mr…?
Admittedly only once, but yes we most certainly did, and it was, heavenly. I can still feel his long supple fingers tickling my mortar and his legs…oh Lordy, I do believe it’s getting hot in here. I think I’m flushed. Tell me is my marble turning red? Oh please don’t bother answering, I can feel my temperature rising.
Then he began singing…he does have this tantalizingly hypnotic voice. He thinks he’s a tenor, although to be honest, he’s actually got this deeper, whiskey like lilt that makes my room spin. Baritone…that’s what I’d call it, especially after a dram or more of the good scotch he keeps in the bottom drawer of that desk.
You’re saying he was drunk and then started dancing with you?
Of course not! That would imply he would not find me delectable unless he’d had too much to drink, and that’s just not how it happened. Okay, he was drunk when he was playing ‘peep the keyhole’ with that hussy of a door over there, but by the time he made it all the way back across the room and began sliding his hands all over my lushness, it’d been fifteen, maybe twenty minutes since he’d taken his last gulp.
Ah, right. Why don’t you tell me in your own words, and from the beginning, what happened that one time?
I’d be thrilled to. When he came into the room he was royally steamed with “her” and I can certainly understand that. I don’t know exactly what happened, but by the time he got here, he was definitely snit-worthy. If I had actual ears, well he would have singed my drum hairs.
As I said, in the bottom drawer of that clunky old desk he keeps a bottle of really expensive imported scotch; something he calls Glenlivet, or maybe Pinch. He pulled the bottle out and didn’t even bother getting a glass; just tipped it back and guzzled while cursing “her” every time he stopped for air. He called “her” a tease, which if you saw those skimpy things she’s taken to wearing since she got home from the hospital, you’d have to agree with him. I mean she has corrupted a perfectly refined and correct English butler who spends most of his day drooling in her presence. Disgusting!
I’m actually surprised Jason hasn’t fired that raunchy Brit for that. I may be from the old school, but proper butlers are not supposed to loose their calm, cool, and collected simply because the lady of the house starts belly dancing with no warning and gets the rest of the female staff dropping everything to join in. It’s almost a burlesque in here sometimes. Horrible…and so tacky.
So Mr. Reed was upset about Mrs. Reed belly dancing and that’s why he was drinking?
Oh no, no, no. He was angry because he couldn’t figure out where the secret passageways to her bed chamber were.
Say what?
He assumed that I was hiding at least one secret passage. This house was built by an old pirate, so Jason assumed the pirate would make certain to have included a secret passageway from this den to milady’s chambers.
After the “peeping keyhole” move proved fruitless, that door wasn’t about to help him leave the room and go to “her” because the door has a crush on Jason that makes her jealous of any attention he gives the rest of us. What, you don’t believe me? Look at it, its solid oak and absolutely purrs when Jason’s fingers get caught in her whorls and holes. A hussy, I’m telling you, she’s a shameless tart…not that she could keep his interest long…not when I’m here and have so many more possibilities.
He found his way back to me and began running his lissome fingers all over my body looking for a latch or a key, but getting all hot and bothered by being that close to me. I may be made of marble, and marble might seem cold and emotionless, but howdy-ho, he got my bricks a’ clacking.
And then what happened?
Oh my, Ms. Holmes, if I told you that it would be dancing and telling wouldn’t it? You’ll just have to read The Pendulum Swings, especially now that you know I, Ms. Marble, play such a critical and pivotal role. I can assure you and your lovely blog readers, you’ll never look at any fireplace the same way again.
My loyal readers, no amount of pleading broke through Ms. Marble’s determination to say no more. She thanked me for coming out to her on location. She thanked me for listening to her detailed retelling of the events that led up to her one, and never to be forgotten, time with Mr. Jason Reed, and she made me promise to cut her an audio tape copy of our meeting to play back over and over as her future moves on.
For the rest of us, The Pendulum Swings by L.J. Holmes will be released by Muse It Hot Publishing on March 1, 2011.
That concludes my interview with Ms. Marble, the resplendent fireplace at the Moore-Reed Mansion…and despite repeated requests; I will not be interviewing the Moore-Reed staircase.
