Trisandrah Emberstrom

His Name is Duir

“Ma’am….”

Tris strode through the door.  The look on her face only gave a slight indication as to how sour her mood was. She smelled of beer and her normally well-groomed hair was frizzy and wavy, somewhat stuck to her head.  Nardrah froze in her place as Tris glared at her.  The trip home had been no better than the night itself.

“Um ma’am…something was delivered for you, ma’am.”

The chocolatier stopped and looked at Nardrah.  “Something came for me?”

“Yes ma’am.  Delivered today.  They said you ordered it.  I…I tried to stop them, but they showed me your signature.”

Tris looked around. “Oooh, earlier than expected.”  She clasp her hands together.  “Did they put it where I requested?”

Nardrah gave her an odd look and nodded.  “Yes ma’am.”

Tris started towards her bedroom, obviously eager to see her newly acquired item.  “Oh, Nardrah …”  She paused at the door and looked back.  “Add this to the list of things you absolutely do not speak of.  To anyone.”

She walked in her bedroom, and into her dressing room and smiled.  She drew in a deep breath.  The smell of leather permeated her senses.  “Mmm…things will have to be rearranged.”  She murmured as she ran her hand over the supple leather.  

She changed out of her dress and in nothing but her underclothes she took the stance.  “I couldn’t think of a more perfect time to consummate our relationship.”  She laughed and walked through the motions.

She struck, but was a little off kilter and twirled to the side. She jumped back and shook her arm. “Oh fiddle…fiddle fiddle!”  She rubbed her sore arm and shoulder and resumed the position again.  This time, she was sure to follow through with every detail.  

When she struck again, she grunted.  The strike made a solid thud against her new friend.  “We have to figure out a name for you.  And a face.  Right now, I’m certainly imagining one.”  

It was all one-sided and she felt the need to move to the other side.  She made a fist with her left hand, checked it twice.  Right foot slightly forward this time, knees bent, palm facing slightly up, she slowly moved her arm in a slow-motion punch until contact was made against leather.  A second time, then a third.  Finally, she went forth at full speed only to strike the leather and end up in a full-on body hug with a punching bag.  “Oh fiddle…..”