A romance story
Okay, geological features, place names and beverages as character names is a staple of romance, it seems. So this is my contribution to the genre.
"Hey, babe," Stalactite said, but New Kemptville had never been able to tell him from his twin brother Stalagmite.
"Hey," she replied. "Sorry I'm late. I was with Paris and Amber, window shopping in Paris. It was fantabulous."
"Oh?" Stalactite gave her a smouldering raise of his gorgeous eyebrows that left her feeling week-kneed, but fortunately only in her left knee.
New Kemptville hop-skipped down the path, returning his stare with one of her own, like liquid water. "I bought clothing," she said, leaving unaid that it was for her ski trip to the Aspens and let his mind wander. His slow smile showed where it was wondering and left her feeling like here were butterflies in her stomach, but they were doing tantric sex.
"I could help you try them on," the hunk offered, the white of his teeth when he smiled reminding her of moguls.
"I'd love that," she said, emphasizing love delicately, like eating a truffle. "But Cliff said he'd rather do it."
Stalactite scowled, his brows moving downward like his namesake. She knew he hated Cliff almost as much as Sedimentary hated Igneous. "I could take Storm, or Gintonic," he said, referring to her own rivals.
Stymied, they stared at each other, wondering who was bluffing, their faces like jewls in the sunshine, and then he laughed his deep belly laugh. "Ah, Kemp. You always know what turns me on...."