The Little Fish Maid

She sat across the table from me, her mouth absentmindedly falling open and snapping closed. There was no doubt she was beautiful, if a bit unsteady on her feet. I couldn’t take my eyes off of her. She was found on the beach that morning. Some said she floated to shore on seafoam like Aphrodite. Some said she was found flopping about like a beached fish. I’m not sure I believed either tale.  I’m not sure it mattered.  There she was, staring silently at me.  I’ve never felt more mesmerizing.  I’ve never seen a girl so mesmerizing.  She was a curiosity and curiosity surrounded her every move.  I’ve brought many girls to dine in the crystal ballroom, with its glass windows stretching from floor to ceiling, but none of my companions were so impressed with the view as she.  It was as though she had never seen the city (or any city) before. She stood utterly astounded and pointed excitedly at everything.  She did have a bit of fright when my butler rapped on the glass doors to see if we were ready for dinner.  She darted behind a large houseplant and refused to come out until she had been assured that she was in no danger. She has yet to have said a word to me, but I get the distinct impression she wants to kiss me.  The feeling is mutual, although I have this horrible cold-sore under my lip.  I wouldn’t want to pass it on to her.  The doctor says that it should be healed in three days time. It will be hard to wait that long, but I suppose we have all the time in the world for that sort of thing.