Lion Head Mesa con[m]igo

belen did not want to touch gucci, and it had nothing to do with his short and doggish frame. the source of the stink was indeed the weird fur. he revealed it was meant to come off and belen shot him a sharp and seeking look. but was she not fellahin? this was her task. her role. he was a nobleman and she was a servant. the girl nodded and approached. her teeth hesitated only a moment before gently hooking along the ragged topseam, behind his tiny skull. if he moved backward, belen would do the same, and with luck he would be parted from the overwhelmingly smelly piece of fabric. her jaws wanted to let 
go! but belen had been trained and poised by jawahir and kasmut. her face remained demure.