Chapter #5Later is during dinner that night... by: Wanderer21   The Lady nods. "Then I must tell you to brace yourself. I have no pockets that are, becoming of my station, so this will make do until 'later'." She gives you a few seconds before her fingers, pillars of silk five times your height, curl inwards towards you. Her palm cups, sliding you to its center as her fingers clasp onto her palm. Your temporary abode of silk and surprising coolness twists, sending you for her fingers. After finding purchase, you strap yourself in for what you expect to be a bumpy ride.
Luckily for you, the ride is smooth and even a little lulling as her hand sways gently, rocking you.
"You feel oh so ticklish in my hand. Please refrain from excess movement or I might have to restrain you." There's a tone to her voice you can't put a finger on before you find yourself between two walls of silk! They press into you, squeezing you for the briefest of moments. "As so~" She giggles before walking off.
Time passes...
"Yes, that will be all. Thank you." Is what you hear before she gives you another squeeze.
You hear a set of footsteps go off into the distance, then the closing of a door. You try peeking out of her fist, but to no avail, your little window of light is facing the wrong way. Were you truly alone with a Victorian woman who dwarfs most skyscrapers?
"We shall be alone and undisturbed for quite some time, so now is 'later'~ Do brace yourself." She answers that question with that same tone you can't place.
You're sent tumbling from her fingers to her palm, the silk gladly providing no resistance. When you're firmly in the center of her cupped palm, her fingers curl away and an audible thoom hits your ears.
Greeting you is a table longer than a runway and wider than four football fields. Said table is adorned with a tablecloth made up of intricate, fanciful flowing patterns. Atop said table cloth is a modest steaming serving of Beef Wellington and Mashed Potatoes. You catch your jaw before it hits the silk floor and almost walk towards the food in trance, until you hear something from behind you.
The Lady clears her throat and looks at you, her eyes piercing into yours. "I'm most inclined to have dinner with a good conversationalist. You explain yourself fully and honestly, do trust that I shall be able to tell, and we share this wonderful meal. What say you?"
It sounds like a good offer but there was that darn rule about not messing with time.
You decide to...
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