Gripping shafts and taking names

She tightened her oily grip, but a different, more satiny unction suddenly spilled from the opening and coursed down the gleaming, solid shaft she’d been frantically working on. She stood up in surprise and banged her head on the raised bonnet, cursing and then jumping back, alarmed, as it slammed down on where she’d been just a moment ago.

The price of deceit

She had a most spurious quinge, it could not be denied, but his contemplation of its likely artificiality was no cause to slow, still less cease, in its use, and only when his unctuous deposit was made and then languidly and shamefully regurgitated did he conclude that his suspicions had been warranted, and thus so was the excremental vengeance he swiftly and copiously discharged about her visage and into her perfidious maw.