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Chapter 13 by grandeweasel grandeweasel

What's next?

Go and strip an island

Here on this island, sugar is one of the bigger businesses for the island elves. And one of the bigger names in the sugar business is Mawa'i. Tall and shapely, even by island elf standards, this toasty bombshell is known for her beauty: Big, glistening eyes, pouty lips, flowing hair down to her butt, and a striking floral display tattooed throughout her body.

Today, Mawa'i is dealing with a visiting businessman interested in importing her sugar cane, a deal that has recently been jeopardized. She sits now on one side of a table, her entourage of gorgeous women standing by and looking annoyed at the human's side.

"We're miffed, Duke," says Mawa'i. "Do you know why we're miffed?"

The Duke looks from one beautiful woman to another. It strikes him that he didn't realize girls in coconut bras and grass skirts could look so uptight.

"We are miffed," says Mawa'i, "because just last night, your son was heard to have remarked, while in communication with a friend back on the mainland..."

She snapes her fingers, and one of her cohorts hands her a page from which she reads. "...'All of the chicks around here are in grass skirts; I wish I had a good set of gardening shears.'"

The Duke glances at his son, who is looking sheepish.

"Did he actually do anything to any of your women?" he asked. "Because, if I may, it sounds like he was having a private and harmless--"

"Do you not understand the implications?" says Mawa'i. "He expressed a desire to use gardening shears on our grass skirts, presumably to look at us bottomless!"

"But--"

"BOTTOMLESS, Duke! Our full nether regions, bared for public gaze and ridicule! Do you realize how degrading that would be?"

"He didn't actually--"

"And we have reason to believe," Mawa'i went on, "that he would like to see us without tops, as well. And that simply won't do. We put far too much effort into guarding our elven dignity to let some young human upstart trim our skirts with gardening shears. I'm afraid that, if you want to see this deal go forward, we'll expect a public apology and--"

It's right here where you rush in and grab Mawa'i, one hand taking the strap of her coconut bra and the other seizing a handful of her grass skirt.

"Hey, there's a glum face," you say, looking at the Duke's son. "You know what you need, buddy? A few naked women."

What's next?

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