Jealousy is Love in Competition

Jealousy is Love in Competition
  
    Alec says, “Daphne, my thump found the pomegranates overripe. But amongst the fruit stalls, one of the fates whom I was well acquainted with appeared in the form of a mortal woman.”  
     Daph replies, “Pray tell what angel saw fit to bring you together? Was this a favorable emissary from heaven or a succubus from hell?”  
     Alec says, “Faith, I cannot tell where she resides as of late. But once, she and I were no more than teammates in the Lyceum. Now the arena she seeks my aid in is that of the academy of Plato in the quiz bowl.”    
      “Alec, what direction does your arrow fly in? Is she an old flame that never burned out?”    
     “Well, we did exchange more than pleasantries but the romance found its ending as all good finales do with a kiss and a promise not to harp on what once was. Hearken unto me, her fortnight competition is a battle of vulgarity to make a sailor blush.”    
     “Was her kiss as sweet as the June strawberry whose distinction you bestowed upon my lips?”    
     “Daph, the summer of your sugar is the sweetest fruit in the orchard. I’ve got a small likeness of her in my satchel. Cast your eyes upon it but do not doubt that my love for you is as steadfast as the hands of an ancient mariner on the helm as he follows Polaris.”    
     “She has an eightish figure. Such women are not to be taken with only a spoonful of sugar. I do not take your fondness for her with only honey.”    
     “Daph, she is but a faint memory.”    
     “You may play but do not toy with my heart. Should thou dine with her I will weep the tears of a widow.”
     “Daph, my promise lives for thee that there will be no culinary exchanges between her and me, strictly academic.”    
     “Alec, my lips quiver to form words such as those you will speak with her for this is no scholarly pursuit. Keep your soul spotless. Be home before ten or I’ll hide the wine in a spot so inconspicuous you’ll never find it.”    
     Alec meets Iris at the agora where the Wine    
Sellers hawk this year’s vintage. “Iris, it is so good to see you, shall we share a pot of tea?”    
     “Oh Alec, I’ll have the grape just the same. You’re quite the handsome devil who fed me words too sweet for my virgin ears but which rolled off my tongue never to be unlearned. That chocolate mousse looks heaven-sent. Let’s share some.”    
     “Sorry Iris, but my diet precludes such fare. Truth be told, my vow to my wife was not to break bread with you.”    
     “Alec, what harm would come for two old friends to share a sinfully delicious pudding? Would she cut ties with you on such a pretext?”    
     “Well, Iris, I guess a little dessert wouldn’t hurt so long as your luscious lips aren’t part and parcel.”    
     “Now that is the Alec, I knew and loved. How nostalgic that my kissers are still lush to you.”    
     Daphne walks up with a purposeful stride. Iris tells Daphne, “I hope you don’t mind sharing your husband with me for my quiz bowl preparation.”    
     Daphne tells Iris, “Why of course not, but the trade of witticisms between married men and single women is dirty commerce in my book. If your repartees turn risqué, you’ll earn my hand to slap    
you silly.”    
     Iris replies, “Really, is it necessary to bring such harsh measures to the fore?”    
     Daphne tells Alec, “Upon my consult with the lead Sophist I have been enlightened to the fact that there is no crude talk competition in the arena in which she will contend. And I see those sugar treats which I expressly forbade you to share with her.”    
    Alec says, “Oh honey, I thought you meant entrees like having dinner or something.”    
     Daphne glares at Iris, “Alec, don’t drink your tea. She spiked it with a Spanish fly. A guy tried it on me but before I imbibed a woman warned me in the powder room. The scent is unmistakable just a little bit of musk and citruses of fresh sweet orange, lemon balm, and kaffir lime leaves. Alec, you may spring a painful woody that stays stiff as hickory all night. Then, even a fellatrix can’t save you from multiple organ failures unto your last breath.”    
     Iris says, “I only put enough in for Alec to please you in bed tonight.”    
     “Listen, you practitioner of harlotry. That is the most obscene a wellborn lady such as me can get. You nearly put my husband in the obituary for a screw. Your ring finger is adorned, and I can play dirty by cluing your hubby into your antics.”    
     Iris wipes the chocolate off her face and knocks her chair over getting up.    
     Daphne says, “Banish thyself from my presence strumpet or your cuckoldry will be made known to whom you cleave.”  
     Alec tells Iris, “Make haste for my wife does not chance upon her mood but is in earnest.”    
     “Alec, tho I am a lady of refinement I’ll have you quicken unto me with the fervor of a sinner’s act of contrition.”    
     “Can you forgive me for letting my guard down with a dying ember from long ago?”    
     “So long as we amend our marriage contract to include my exclusive rights to smut talk with you.”    
     “Daph, let’s get a caffeine buzz so we can enjoy an insomniac night at the theater. The playwrights have put on the stage a series of pastoral tales.”    
     “You would turn my fair nature into that of a beast whose roar becomes me. I can sniff out a Satyr among nymphs.”