#Rummy Noble

[katejennyblogs]

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Rummy has been a favorite game in India for ages, bringing together skill, strategy, and a dash of luck into a thrilling card game experience. As the digital landscape evolves, Noble Rummy emerges as a leading platform that caters to both novice and experienced players. Downloading to get ₹3200 in free offers makes Rummy Noble a promising place of attraction for the new people, and on top of that, a challenge on a daily basis to be able to win ₹ 10,000 is on the cards. The fact that free bonuses are accompanying an exciting challenge makes Rummy Noble the ultimate destination site for those wanting to gamble.

Rummy Noble is designed with player experience as its objective, thus being an easy-to-navigate interface for any one user. The forms of rummy the platform offers are classic rummy, points rummy, and pool rummy each designed with a view to enhance the gaming experience and engagement level for the players. Bright graphics and smooth experience playing the game show the soul of traditional rummy through modern technology in an interactive way. More importantly, security is in place. Robust measures of encryption protect user information, letting the players continue to play rummy because that's what they can do best.

₹3200 Free on Download End

Rummy Noble starts with an attractive welcome offer for each new user. Free ₹3200 is offered at the time of app download. This enticing offer does not only serve as an incentive to visit the portal but also allows one a risk-free try-out on different formats of games. The process of signing up is very easy, and after doing so, it enables one to get his account created and begin playing in a jiffy. It allows strategically putting the first up bonus to use in getting accustomed with the game mechanisms, visit here to trying various strategies and confidence-building to step into the real money games.

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Conclusion

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[johnmethewblogs]

Download Rummy Noble Apk for ₹3,200 Real Cash | Refer Friends to Earn ₹1,500 Each | Play and Win ₹10,000 Daily

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This guide will show you how to fully use the­se rewards and get the­ most out of your time on Rummy Noble. Let's jump into downloading and installing Rummy Noble­'s app. The first thing you got to do here is download the­ Rummy Noble App. Unlike regular apps in app store­s, this one may not appear on Google Play or Apple­ App Store. So, you'll get the App from the­ Rummy Noble website or any trustworthy source­. 

Once downloaded, set up the­ App. Android users will need to twe­ak their settings to allow "unknown sources". Look for the­ downloaded file in your file manage­r, then tap to install. IOS users might nee­d a few extra steps to install if the­ App isn't in the App Store. Whethe­r you have an Android or iOS, make sure your file­ is safe to avoid security issues. Ne­xt up, get your ₹3,200 cash bonus. 

Once you install the app and ope­n it up, you'll need to registe­r. After that, you'll need to make­ an initial deposit to get your account up and running and unlock your cash bonus. You can make your de­posit through different payment me­thods. After that, you'll notice your account balance has a tre­at - a ₹3,200 cash reward. Another nifty feature­ - referring friends and ge­tting ₹1,500 each time. 

Rummy Noble offe­rs a referral program that allows you to earn for e­ach friend you refer. Share­ your unique code, get your frie­nds to register and make the­ir first deposit, and watch your account fill up with ₹1,500 for each refe­rral. The more actively you share­ your code, the more mone­y you'll receive. Daily Prize­s: Ready to win ₹10,000? 

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To make the­ most out of rummy noble mod apk experie­nce, follow these tips: Know the­ game in and out, tactically utilize your cash bonus, actively share­ your referral code and consiste­ntly participate in daily contests. In conclusion, Rummy Noble is not just fun, it's re­warding. By downloading the Rummy Noble App, refe­rring friends, and joining daily contests, you'll be se­tting yourself up for a thrilling gaming experie­nce. Whether you're­ a rummy pro or a newbie, Rummy Noble offe­rs fun and winning chances for everyone­.

[wwwrummybocom]

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[rummygleeagency]

The Evolution of Card Games: A Look at Royally Rummy and Rummy Noble

Card games have been a source of entertainment for centuries, evolving with time to adapt to modern preferences. Royally Rummy and Rummy Noble are two standout apps that have revolutionized the way we play rummy today. These apps offer a seamless blend of traditional gameplay and contemporary features, making them a favorite among card game lovers.

Features of Royally Rummy

Royally Rummy brings the classic rummy game to your mobile device with several enhanced features:

Stunning Graphics: The app boasts high-quality graphics that enhance the gaming experience.

Multiple Variants: Players can choose from various rummy variants, including Indian Rummy and Gin Rummy.

Tournaments and Challenges: Engage in daily tournaments and challenges to test your skills and win big prizes.

User-Friendly Interface: The app’s design ensures a smooth and enjoyable gaming experience.

Secure Transactions: With robust security measures, Royally Rummy ensures all transactions are safe.

Features of Rummy Noble

Rummy Noble offers a premium rummy experience with its unique features:

Elegant Design: The app’s elegant design provides a visually pleasing experience.

Variety of Games: Players can enjoy different rummy games, including Pool Rummy, Points Rummy, and Deals Rummy.

Real-Time Multiplayer: Play against real players in real-time, adding a competitive edge to the game.

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Customer Support: Rummy Noble offers excellent customer support to assist players with any issues.

How to Download Royally Rummy and Rummy Noble

Downloading these apps is simple and straightforward. Here’s how:

Visit the Official Websites: Search for “Royally Rummy download” and “Rummy Noble download” on your search engine.

Download the APKs: Click on the respective download links to get the APK files.

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Register and Play: Sign up with your details and start playing your favorite rummy games.

Tips for Mastering Rummy

To excel in rummy, consider these tips:

Learn the Basics: Understand the basic rules and objectives of the game.

Form Sequences Early: Try to form sequences early in the game to reduce your points.

Keep Track of Discards: Pay attention to the cards your opponents are discarding to gauge their strategies.

Use Jokers Wisely: Utilize joker cards effectively to complete your sets and sequences.

Conclusion

Royally Rummy and Rummy Noble are at the forefront of modern card gaming, offering players a rich and immersive experience. With their innovative features and secure platforms, these apps provide endless entertainment and opportunities to win. Download Royally Rummy and Rummy Noble today and elevate your rummy gaming experience to new heights.

[teenpattisvip]

What are the Gaming Features of Rummy Noble?

It's an online platform that lets you play rummy noble while simultaneously providing enjoyment for your preferred device. You can easily earn 10,000 or more days at home by simply sharing, making money quickly, and using your fingers; here is where wealth begins.

Visit: https://rummynoble.blogspot.com/2022/12/what-are-gaming-features-of-rummy-noble.html

[rummyvips]

Top Rummy and Teen Patti Apps to Download for Free

The digital age has revolutionized the way we play card games, bringing classics like Rummy and Teen Patti to our mobile devices. With numerous apps available, it’s easier than ever to enjoy these games anytime, anywhere. Here’s a look at some of the best apps you can download for free to enhance your gaming experience.

Rummy Nabob: This app is perfect for rummy lovers. Rummy Nabob offers a comprehensive gaming experience with various game modes and tournaments. The intuitive interface makes it easy for both new and experienced players to enjoy the game.

Rummy Modern: If you’re looking for a modern twist on the classic rummy game, look no further than Rummy Modern. The app is available for quick download and offers a sleek, user-friendly design. Whether you’re searching for rummy modern apk or rummy modern app download, you’ll find this app easy to install and even easier to play.

Teen Patti Joy: Bringing the excitement of Teen Patti to your smartphone, Teen Patti Joy is a must-have app for fans of the game. With a variety of game modes and a vibrant player community, it’s no wonder this app is so popular. The teen patti game download apk ensures you can start playing in no time.

Royally Rummy: For a royal gaming experience, Royally Rummy is the app to choose. It combines classic rummy gameplay with elegant graphics and a user-friendly interface. This app promises hours of enjoyable gameplay.

Rummy Noble: Known for its reliability and fair play, Rummy Noble offers a secure platform for rummy enthusiasts. The app’s smooth performance and attractive design make it a pleasure to use. Download the app and enjoy a noble gaming experience.

Teen Patti Gold: Teen Patti Gold stands out as one of the top apps in the Teen Patti category. With high-quality graphics and engaging gameplay, this app offers a premium gaming experience. The teen patti gold app download is simple, making it easy to get started.

Rummy Modern Pro: For those who seek a more advanced rummy experience, Rummy Modern Pro is the perfect choice. The app offers professional features and a competitive environment, making it ideal for serious players.

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In conclusion, these apps bring the fun and excitement of Rummy and Teen Patti right to your mobile device. With their innovative features and easy downloads, you’re just a few clicks away from endless entertainment. Download your favorite app now and start playing today!

[libidomechanica]

Her younglings face

’Er the walls blackened his warlike brother. Were man but till the weak, it slays the sun, and a’ that; all condition as beauties flower imagined it high, or whether glory, and tears, at fifty years he hath a tame preserved up in earth now lifts a young wife were born to dust ygoe.—Add this world before or your system feigns o’er a pair, hover’d and pities also named Pompilius, he had they tamed him to disparity as is the moon be still years to burn out her in my arms, and smelling bread them brought in one shoes from Horace: his head vpheld, and all these loves around than a gin rummy is a portion of his noble guests, assembly of vowels a voice by heavenly zone. Even the radiance fell?

[dbgbgb]

Spartan poker online

Serving millions of players for years, Spartan poker online is one of the best places to play online poker games in India. The platform promotes Rummy as a skill-oriented game and follows an easy deposit and withdrawal process. The website serves as a pleasant escape for those who wish to play the game anywhere, anytime, and on any device. Whether you are travelling from work, relaxing at home, or want to take some time off from your work schedule, a round of Spartan Poker rummy can be played online from any device conveniently.

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web : https://medium.com/@garbrelahaerperdgreacedaudreay/a-noble-initiative-from-party-poker-online-f7bc172cf8e3

[rummynabob]

Get Rs41 Free When You Install The Noble Rummy App

Noble versus Noble is a Rummy game. This game is known as Rummy, Teen Patti Noble, 3 Patti Noble, and RummyNoble

To Read More Visit rummynabob.games or rummygold.link to download the app and earn a free signup bonus.

[wwwrummybocom]

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[rummystar]

PLAYERS' THOUGHTS CHANGE WHILE PLAYING RUMMY HOLI

Rummy is a game that calls both dexterity and cunning to win. You can't turn a blind eye to the fact that it's so popular without acknowledging how enjoyable and amusing it is.

The rummynabob.games are helpful in that they educate players how to think constructively, have patience, look at issues from all angles,

[teenpattisvip]

How to get more Bonuses in the New Rummy Noble?

The new rummy noble each time a player plays game; the app adds an extra layer of fun by providing them with interesting and exciting challenges. Advice on everything from which games are best for beginners to how to improve your game to beat the pros can be found here.

Visit: https://www.articleted.com/article/573934/144104/How-to-get-more-Bonuses-in-the-New-Rummy-Noble-

[rummyvips]

Rummyvips.com: Where Royally Rummy Meets Modern Gaming

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[bitletsanddrabbles]

WIP Wednesday, Morning Edition

Since a good portion of my vacation was dedicated to doll customization, there will be a second one of these later, after I’ve snapped some in-progress pictures. For now, though, for my usual Downton audience, a longer-than-usual chunk from one of my novels-in-progress.

I thoroughly blame @alex51324 for writing the wonderful “Jeeves and the Inferior Valet” and thus introducing me to Wodehouse. While this isn’t in anyway related to that fic, other than the obvious subject matter, I feel that is absolutely credit that should be given. I’ve been working on this piece, off and on, for a couple of years now. If we all live to be 90, you may get to read it complete! As it is, I’m trying to nudge it along right now, so here, have the opening:

It seems to me that one must never be too glad to be alive. That is to say, whenever one is feeling his best, his most topping self, Fate seems to take it as a personal affront and sets about correcting things. On the morning of which I speak, I woke perfectly refreshed. I felt so all together zippy that if someone had barged into my bedroom and insisted on a conversation before I’d downed a single cup of tea, I might well have nearly managed. The weather was clement and with the help of a horse named Dark Secret who had managed a rather impressive win the day before, so was my bank account. Of course, a Wooster never has much to worry about when it comes to affording life’s niceties, but it is always nice to come out on the proper side of these things. Yes, it was with this sunny outlook on life that I applied myself to breakfast and was tucking into the eggs and b. when Jeeves appeared with two clouds to shadow my good cheer.

“Mrs. Travers called earlier, sir,” he informed me.

“Aunt Dahlia?” The news was somewhat surprising, I admit, but no cause for alarm. After all, Aunt Dahlia is my good aunt. That is to say, my better aunt. That is to say the aunt who isn’t Aunt Agatha who could turn a gorgon to stone with her glare and is forever trying to shackle me with a job or a wife, preferably both. “What does she want?”

“As the owner and editor of Milady's Boudoir, she has been invited to spend the weekend in Yorkshire at the estate of the Earl of Grantham,” Jeeves reported dutifully. “The Earl’s younger daughter, the Marchioness of Hexham, runs the Sketch and has apparently organized a small gathering of women in the profession.”

“Hexham?” The Woosters might be gentlemen, but none of us can boast of hobnobbing with the upper echelons of the peerage. Once you get past the honorable misses and misters, we find ourselves a bit outclassed, no matter how noble our hearts. Still, one hears of people, in the right circles, and nothing I’d heard about the Marquess of Hexham had lead me to believe he’d be married before the age of sixty, and then under great protest. “When did the Marquess of Hexham find time to get married? Isn’t he the one who’s always off in Tangiers?”

“That was the previous Lord Hexham,” Jeeves corrected my error. “If you’ll recall sir, he died last year. Malaria, I believe.”

“Oh, that’s right. Dashed sorry to hear that.” Admittedly, I never actually met the man in my life, but there are some things you simply feel sorry about. Forgetting someone has died is one of them.

“He was quite well liked in certain circles and will be missed. His cousin, the current Marquess, was married this past December.”

Clearly I was on the right page now, but something still seemed a bit rummy about it. “But isn’t the family home in Northumberland? Why wouldn’t the Marchioness have it there?”

“I have no idea, sir.”

The only thing I could think of was that the size of the building was more accommodating to the cause. “I can’t imaging an Earl having a grander house than a Marquess.”

“It would seem odd, sir.”

“Still, I suppose if you’re a Marchioness who wants to have a to-do at her father’s house, and he’s only an Earl, you can jolly well do as you please and not much he can do about it, what?”

“I would imagine so, yes sir. Whatever the lady’s reasoning for the location, Mr. Travers has been taken ill, and so Mrs. Travers would like you to come with her to help make up the numbers at dinner.”

“That is straight out,” I replied, with a fair amount of relief. I like Aunt Dahlia well enough, but spending more time with her than it takes to enjoy a dinner from her French chef Anatole is generally courting disaster. A fellow could easily find himself in chokey for the theft of a cow creamer, for instance. “I have a very important dinner at the Drone’s club tomorrow night and it is imperative I don’t miss it.”

“Very good, sir. Mrs. Gregson also called.”

“Aunt Agatha?” I nearly choked on a piece of bacon. The day suddenly seemed less sunny. That is to say, while the first cloud didn’t look so alarming, this one promised rain, thunder, and possibly a lightening strike or two. “And the purpose of her call?” I asked, once I’d cleared the old palate.

“She wishes you to have dinner with her tonight,” Jeeves replied, making it seem like a remarkably mundane event. Meals with Aunt Agatha are never mundane, and not because she has an extraordinary French chef. Her chef is of the perfectly ordinary, English variety.  “Apparently there is a young lady by the name of the right Honorable Miss Proops she believes you should meet.”

If there is any announcement perfectly calculated to make the Wooster blood run cold, it’s hearing that Aunt Agatha wants me to meet a young lady. The woman is determined to see me married off and churning out offspring like crumpets from a bakery. I hardly see why since she makes no attempt to disguise the fact she doesn’t like me. I’d think she’d prefer me to die a childless bachelor, rather than populating the world with little Bertrams. What’s worse, she seems to think I should be attached to an ‘improving’ sort of woman, the sort that keeps up on Freud and the other philosophers and carries on the sort of academic conversation one avoided at Oxford. “Grim business, Jeeves. Very grim.”

“I can not imagine it would be a pleasant evening for you, sir.”

“No, not pleasing in the least. Especially since there is only one reason that Aunt Agatha ever wants me to meet a Miss anyone. If I’m not careful, I’ll be engaged by the dessert course. ” I prodded at my e., suddenly devoid of appetite. “Still, I daren’t not attend, not without jolly good reason. What do you suggest?” I gave him my most imploring look. If ever I was in need of that amazing brain of his, it was now.

“I would suggest you go to Yorkshire with Mrs. Travers, sir,” Jeeves replied with a promptness that bespoke forethought. I began to suspect he’d presented the phone calls to me in the order he did for a purpose, and I was soon to be proven correct. “Since you learned of her offer first, Mrs. Gregson can, with a reasonable amount of truthfulness, be told it was a previous engagement. It has the further advantage of being well away from London and, according to an acquaintance of mine who happens to live in the very village we will be visiting, has lovely weather this time of year.”

“The old Metrop. does get a bit oppressive around this season,” I agreed, quickly warming to the idea. There was still only one point of hesitation. “This Earl, though. He doesn’t happen to collect antique silver, does he?”

“No sir. Lord Grantham is known for collecting snuff boxes, which none of your family is interested in, and favors Labradors over terriers for canine companionship. Also, his two living daughters are both safely married.”

I needed no further convincing. “Right-ho, Jeeves! Call Aunt Dahlia and let her know we’d be delighted to accompany her. Then pack my cases for the country. This will be a perfect chance to wear my new tie!”

“Not the Macclesfield, sir, surely.”

I did not like the tone in which he said that. Largely, I have come to accept Jeeves’s view on the contents of my wardrobe, hidebound as it is, but there are days it seems he’s going absolutely backwards. “And what’s wrong with it?”

“While it is a fine tie in many regards, it does not suite your complexion-.”

“Hang my complexion, Jeeves,” I countered gamely, before he could add his customary ‘sir’. “Every once in awhile a man’s complexion needs something new, something zippy to shake it up.” He looked ready to protest, so I fixed him with my steeliest gaze. Absolutely unbendable. “I will wear it, Jeeves!”

“Very good, sir.”

As he was turning to leave, a thought occurred to me. “By the way, you said Lord Grantham’s two living daughters were married. Has he any others?”

“His Lordship’s youngest daughter, Mrs. Sybil Branson nee Crawley, died in childbirth back in 1920. Her husband, Mr. Branson, lives at Downton with his in-laws.”

“Ah. Good to know.” Storing that information away in my head as something not to bring up over dinner, I turned my attention to finishing my breakfast.

So there you go! The suitably improbable intro! At least, I feel it’s pretty durn unlikely, even before the movie, that Edith would hold a writer’s conference at Downton, or if she did that she’d invite Aunt Dahlia, etc. But this isn’t about realism, it’s about having an excuse to write Bertie being an idiot and Thomas being a snark face in the same story. Who says you can’t have everything?

In other news, I fully understand why Wodehouse spent so much time writing Jeeves and Wooster stories. Bertie’s a blast!

[libidomechanica]

Where the Latmian saw not: her heart and demigods

Thine own hues all this way, this of me: this  told, I joy; but still streams now filling  themselves forsake and pretense of  mine, mine, fair, with prince and  air who was kindle drops with  cattle prelude, fashion made wives, precious  chronology and virtue wore, and 

also, since thou, cried “Dang it? Or  what the eagle, who have that are  you to walk by moon, the  kind behest, the bitter orange  ball that but one man might have  birth, and a woman, singing from the  town was enterd: firstling,  to miss the hill for  ever, and should dash the watch- tower, and just now, that my life will 

renew our old half yielding  up, and struck, and find one, then, by  the faint half-flush that more had  deeper and oer-spread with the  dubious bone, the bright and  tenderest, milky sovereigns head, the  eternall praise: break from the  shrine: each looks immortal man impassionate breath, I  tie that grievances foregone,”  and quiet consequences are fit 

to break her way; but as  perhaps still it become our bird- throated mother halt of earthly doom,  the dead or heart. Heard,—and that  he did, is much old Time had made.  Now them not for ever parches through soldiers,  the rampart, through as foreknown  and the world when  I reign. The praise— the harbor  should achieve no higher aims of a  love of the buxome and  cell he wander far in others arms and  passion, will waft the seal is  setting behind a name for both  complain of, or reprove; and she  inquired, the night with the  white Tablet—Yes—tis Death tramples  daily plague, or fall: not for  ever: its lovely: he doth lie, and, 

complete, however thou, my love, how it  was but a ray. With  stubborn curls, Yet. Saith the king shot  he did they han paund. of every  wise or fitting, causeless, young 

strangers who saw those figures on the  glitters better still, no longer th

an a gin rummy is a pass  over the mystic art, canst not be  shot a golden rod, thrown, who lie in  beamy black-eyed girls in great Pan-festival: 

his studies made, but from  the worlds bitter bark and buried  deep, and danger, or say, she kept  awake, and the shpheard mought very  fault; I craved street: none can tell the  height, and the unknown and somewhat  tardy millions; a country  of Christian she can escape  of getting nigh grim Dantes “obscure  wood,” the frivolity of noble  life? Oh look with young, keep  with figures dim, as they will  claim on your lips, more do you feel  me the Moniteur and Courier.  That hour, when sweet  first to show his orient beams, in 

[catchester]

12 Days of Christmas

Title: Ten Lords a Leaping

Authors: @evieplease​​ and @catchester​​

Which character: Actor!Tom and OFC Rocky

Genre: Humour/Explicit

Fic Summary: Tom and Rocky spend their first Christmas as a couple and Rocky meets Tom’s Mum for the first time. Expect 12 gifts, too much boozy, bad puns and lots of fun!

Rating: Mature

Previous Chapters: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17138390/chapters/40304798

Chapter 13 - 10 Lords a Leaping

Knowing that the Ten Lords a Leaping was looming, I’d spent ages wracking my brain to come up with something for Tom’s Tenth Day of Christmas present. Why did I ever agree to this mad scheme? But after his Nine Ladies Dancing I needed to raise the bar. Wait. Oh dear. If I couldn’t get Lords to Leap, maybe Tom and I could do the Leaping? From barre to bar? There are loads of pubs with Lords and Royalty in their names in the greater London metropolitan area! 

An hour with google maps and Bob’s yer uncle! I had a list of pubs and a walking map. There were some really terrible pub names out there! I mean, The Royal Flush? Really? They’d better have excellent plumbing! 

However, I found the best, most wonderful name of all. The Queen’s Scepter!! I can’t even think of it without laughing out loud! Though it sounds like it ought to be the name of a sex shoppe where one can buy really quality dildoes. 

I arranged our pub ‘leaping’ so that all our stops were within walking distance. We’ll take a cab to the first one, because it’s The Queen’s Scepter, (snicker!) which was farthest away, walk from pub to pub, and take a cab back from the last one, as we’ll probably be legless by then.

I checked I had all my ‘leaping’ gear. I needed to be comfortable and warm for a long day in and out of doors. I wore the red wool peacoat that Tom had given me for Christmas of course, a rather deep cut v-neck black jumper, and my good jeans, the ones that cup my arse just right. I bounced on the toes of my old comfy black trainers, eager to get to our adventures.

A beaming Tom met me on the stoop, pulling me indoors, wrapping his arms around me and bending me back to kiss me as if he hadn’t kissed me in months, instead of just this morning.

Naturally, I gave as good as I got, my tongue dancing with his, my hands in his hair and my leg winding around his thigh. Finally he let me up for air and grinned down at me.

“Now will you tell me what you have planned for today?”

I grinned slyly back. The only clue I’d given him was to wear comfortable shoes. He’d taken it a little far, if you ask me, he looked more like he was going hiking, but that wax jacket with a hoodie underneath did suit him, and he was in those lovely old, soft, black jeans so I wasn't about to ask him to change! I kind of liked the tan Caterpillar boots, they gave his posh image a working man’s edge, which oddly suited him. I realised I’d been staring at him for longer than was perhaps appropriate. 

“Um, right.” I surreptitiously checked for drool in the guise of fixing my lipstick. That might have been more suave if it hadn’t been lip balm. 

“This was a tricky one! I mean, short of setting Parliament on fire, where the hell am I going to get Ten Lords a Leaping?! And anyway the lazy sods aren’t even in session!” I waved my arms about in exasperation.

Tom looked faintly alarmed. “Well, not to mention that it is Christmas,  and you’re not Guy Fawkes, after all!”

“And aren’t you glad I’m not!” I wriggled my bum and batted my eyelashes at him, just to remind him how lucky he is. “So, while I wouldn’t mind doing something that would shift that lot off their arses, I can hardly wait to see what you’ve laid on for Eleven Pipers Piping, and I don’t want to be languishing at Her Majesty’s pleasure for it! Plus, your Nine Ladies Dancing was so brilliant! I needed to raise the barre, so to speak… And anyway, they say that ten out of Ten Lords proof-er drinking in the daytime!”

Tom glanced out the window at the chilly, grey day. “So we’re going to a pub...?” He frowned. “What does that have to do with Lords a Leaping?” 

I crossed my arms and shook my head in mock disapproval at his slowness.

“Well, I figured that if the lazy bastards won’t leap to it, it’ll have to be our job! And there are loads of pubs named after Lords and other Royalty, so we’re going on a Ten Lords Pub Leaping!”

Tom choked “Good Lord! That’s…so bad, it’s actually good!”

“Why thank you,” I curtsied. “So you approve, then?”

“Certainly! It sounds marvelous fun!”

“Well, I’m glad I won’t have to gin up any excitement, because I’ve been tankering with the list of pubs and maps all morning!”

“And will we have to order particular drinks at each of these noble establishments?”

“Nah. Let’s just play it by beer.”

“ Well, you’ve done an excellent job, as far as I can see.”

“It’s ale in a days work!”

Pulling up to the Queen’s Sceptre, Tom stepped from the cab onto the kerb and gallantly offered me a hand out. I stifled a snicker. If my Posh Idiot wants to treat me like a grand lady, am I going to object?

Besides, his hand was warm when I slid my cold fingers into his palm, and when he tugged me onto my feet he met me with a kiss. I shivered in the cool damp air and he bundled me into the pub.

The Queen’s Sceptre was a traditional olde worlde pub with dark beams overhead and a quiet fire in the fireplace, immediately warming us.

Tom helped me off with my coat. “Thank you again for my pretty wool coat, Tom.” I stroked the sleeve. Tom smiled, pleased. “It’s totally baa-aa-d-ass!”

Now he groaned and rolled his eyes. “You know, when I was shopping for your gift, I had a conversation with myself…” he trailed off expectantly. Ok, I’ll play.

“Oh yes? Do tell!” I raised an enquiring eyebrow.

“It’s a coat, I said to myself. What could possibly go wrong with a coat, I asked myself. I totally forgot to check for puns!”

I stood on my toes and kissed the end of his nose. “Now you know! It’s good to learn something new each day, right? You should write it up as a life-hack!”

“What, and give some runny nosed kid online the opportunity to say ‘Ok, boomer’ to me? I think snot.” Tom raised an offended eyebrow and I snickered. I’d like to see some kid try to get away with calling Tom old!

After we ordered our drinks at the bar, I plopped down on the bench and looked around the scarred old place. There were cracks in the plaster, probably left over from the London bombings during the war. The rough wood floor had probably never been polished, the tabletops were gouged and scratched, and the mullioned windows were filled with wavy, bubbled old glass. There were only a couple of other drinkers there. But the place was perfect. It carried the rich, warm, smell of good ale, and the scent of the logs burning on the fire.

“Your sheep impersonation needs some work, by the way,” he told me. “That ‘baa’ sound needs to come from the throat,” he rubbed his hand suggestively along his throat, tracing a finger around his adam’s apple. “You need to practice until you can literally feel the vibration and-”

I stared at him, my mouth falling open. Was he seriously trying to give me an acting lesson here to improve my sheep bleating?? I’m supposed to be the weird one in this relationship, not him!

“Then with a little-” he stopped and burst out laughing. “I’m sorry... your face!” he said between guffaws. 

I could feel my blush rising but hopefully he’d think it was still from the cold outside. He’d got me, but there was no way I was going to admit that!

Fortunately the barman interrupted for our drinks order. I went for a lager, and Tom asked for a glass of wine, whee aren’t we adventurous?

Soon we were sitting at a table in the window of the nearly empty pub, looking out at the grey day.

“I have to say, I’m impressed by your choice of a pub crawl,” Tom grinned at me over his wine, his eyes twinkling merrily. “This ought to be interesting, since you can’t hold your liquor.”

“Can too!” I drew myself up indignantly.

“Darling,” he drawled, “you were three sheets to the wind the first time you met my mother! Your first words to her were, if I remember correctly, to stumble over calling her ‘Mum’, ‘Hiddleston’ and ‘Mrs. Posh Idiot’! You were squiffy!

“How long are you going to bludgeon me with that one for?” I teased. “But, that’s fair,” I nodded judiciously. “Of course I’d had nearly half a bottle of scotch on my own, and it was all your fault!”

“My fault?! How was you turning up trolleyed my fault?”

“She was your mother!”

Tom blinked, confused. “Well yes, she was. I mean, she still is.” He shook his head.  “What’s your point?”

I rolled my eyes. “Obviously, I’d never have got drunk in front of your mother if you hadn’t insisted on introducing me! It stands to riesling.” 

“You’re treading a vine line, there.” He snorted and looked skeptical, but he had to concede my logic. Reluctantly.

“Now let’s have a look at this list of Lordly pubs of yours.”

I pulled the list and map from my bag and set them in front of Tom with a flourish: 

The Queens Sceptre

Sir Vesa’s

The Lord Lucan

The Royal Flush

The Barons Bollocks

The Duchess and Tipple

Down for the Count

The Bloody Queen Mary

The Earls Whiskers

The Laird of Scotch

The Princes Licker

The Rummy Lord

The Fresh Prince

The Dukes Drunk Ducks

The Kings Cocktail

Tom ran a finger down the list and laughed. “You’ve got fifteen pubs listed here, love, not ten!

“Hey, it’s not my fault that London publicans have an over fondness for kissing Royal arse!” I rolled my eyes. “Anyway, some of them are too far away for our walking programme. I only included the ten in walking distance of each other. Check the map. See?”

Tom flipped the list over and looked at our proposed ‘leaping’ route.

Tom laughed, pointing at The Prince’s Licker. 

“Is that really what it’s called? The Prince’s Licker??”

I grinned. “Well no, it’s spelled Liquor. But I like my spelling better, as in ‘Candy is dandy, but lick-her is quicker to her heart’!”

Tom pulled me closer and nuzzled behind my ear. “It certainly is with you.”

I nuzzled back. “And you have a very good licker…” I trailed off suggestively.

Tom promptly licked a broad, very wet stripe up my cheek as I squealed and ducked away. “Guess I deserved that,” I said ruefully, scrubbing at my face with the sleeve of my jumper. Tom innocently drank from his glass, returning his attention to the list.

“The Lord Lucan.” he mused. “Isn't he the one who murdered his nanny, tried to murder his wife, and then disappeared, never to be seen again?” 

“Yes,” I said with a grin. The macabre nature of the pub’s namesake had played a little into my choice. “You order your drinks at the bar, then they hide them and you have to find them before you can drink.”

“Are you serious?” 

“No,” I laughed. “But it is said that only 50% of customers are ever seen again.”

He wasn't falling for it this time, no matter how deadpan my delivery. 

“And the staff all carry pokers to bludgeon rude customers?” he suggested. 

“Not far off,” I grinned and explained. “They stage murder mystery nights once a month, so if we like it here, we could try one sometime.” 

“That sounds perfectly gruesome. We should go some evening.”

“I’ll check their schedule.” I promised. “You can’t get near it at Halloween, but it should be ok at any other time of the year.”

Tom looked back at our list. He grimaced at the next one.

“The Royal Flush? What is that?”

“I know, right? I couldn’t tell if it was supposed to be a pub, a gambling hell, or a shop that sells gold toilets!“

“I don’t know, darling. I don’t have high hops for a pub that has the word Flush right in its name.”

“Yeah, I think urine trouble if they can’t come up with a better name for a pub! It’s out of our walking zone, so we’re spared that one, anyway. What about the next one?”

“The Barons Bollocks?” Tom narrowed his eyes at me. “Did you spell that one wrong as well?”

I laughed. “Maybe? It used to be called the Barons Bullock, but some wag went and painted over the original letters on the sign. Every time the landlord fixed it, someone would come round and change it back. Eventually the landlord just gave up and left it that way. I hear their drinks are strong enough to put hair on your chest, and further south!” 

“But darling, I like your chest just the way it is!” Tom traced a finger along the neckline of my jumper.

I glanced down. Oops. There was a bit too much of the girls on display for the public. I gave my jumper a tug and Tom sat back looking disappointed. 

“Too bad.” I consoled him in mock sorrow. “But I wouldn’t want to get a chest cold.”

“Or a cold chest, I suppose.” Tom brightened and nuzzled my ear. “But I’d be happy to warm them up for you.”

“I’ll let you know,” I said dryly. I shook the pub list at him to get his attention off my boobs.

“The Duchess and Tipple is supposed to have quite a good wine cellar. And they have 2 for 1 House wine at happy hour!”

“Well, that’s an offer we decant refuse!

We finished our drinks at the Queen’s Sceptre and pulled on our coats. I grabbed Tom’s hand, tugging him out  the door. 

“Come on, Sir Vesa’s is only hops, skip and a jump from here!” I did my best to hop, skip and jump, but it’s not as easy as it sounds.

“Come on!” I urged Tom, who was laughing as he watched me. “Live a little!”

“How far is this pub?” he asked. 

“According to the map, we’re only a quarter of a mile away.” I gave him my best side eye. “Yeah, you’re probably too old to skip for that long.”

His eyes narrowed. I was going to pay for that quip later. I couldn't wait!

“Fine.”

And so we ended up going this weird sort of flailing hop scotch dance down the pavement. Do you know how hard it is to hop, skip, and jump while laughing and dodging other, more sedate walkers? For a miracle nobody grumbled at our cavorting like ninnies, some even laughed and joined us for a hop or two! It must be the season.

Laughing and breathless from leaping about playing silly buggers down the pavement, I saw my chance. A narrow space between buildings was dark, a street light shining faintly through at the end of the gap, showing that the space was deserted. It was just the thing!

I tugged his hand and pulled him into the dark, turning and slinging my arm around his neck, reaching up on my toes to lick my way into his mouth.

Fingers ran over my cheek and down my neck, moving around my nape to dig into my hair and return the favour.

Tom braced himself with a hand on the bricks beside my head, brushing his lips teasingly across mine, but I wasn’t having it. I wanted his body against mine, and wrapped my hands in his jacket, pulling to grind against him. Tom chuckled into my mouth.

“Impatient little thing, aren’t you?”

“Oh, you have no idea…”

The warm wool of my coat cushioned me against the frigid brick wall at my back, but I could still feel the chill seeping through. It was bloody cold out there! Tom, however, was warming my front nicely, his body pressing into mine as he took over the kiss, heating me up from the inside. I wanted to put my hands in his hair, but my damned gloves…

Tom lifted his head, searching my face for something. I was about to pull him down for another kiss just to see if he really could make me burst into flames, when he startled and his head whipped toward the entrance of our dark little niche.

I’d been so lost in his kisses that I hadn’t even noticed the chattering and noise of passersby until that moment. A loud burst of laughter echoed around us as a group of men walked past, joking and pushing each other as they passed only a couple of meters from us.

Tom took a step back with a shake of his head and a regretful sigh. Yeah, that place was too public, and I didn’t fancy getting caught doing Tom Hiddleston in a dark alley! I’m not into exhibitionism anyway, and the reminder that we were nearly in public cooled me right off. 

I shrugged and grinned ruefully at Tom, standing on my toes for a quick brushing kiss over his lips.

“Baby, it’s cold outside…”  I sang. Tom chuckled.

“Then let us repair to somewhere warmer. Perhaps to yon public house?” Tom made a grand sweeping gesture and offered me his arm with a bow.

“Delighted, good Sir!” I laughingly tucked my hand in his elbow and he drew me back onto the busy pavement, nonchalantly merging us into the bustling foot traffic without a ripple. We were only a couple of doors from our destination.

Sir Vesa’s turned out to be surprisingly posh, with menus at the tables and waitstaff to take your order. My tummy rumbled. I immediately determined that I hadn’t had enough chips in my life.

“Oh look! I pointed at the drinks menu. They have Budweiser on tap! I’ve never had any, have you?

Tom made an adorable moue of disgust. “I have. Listen to me well when I tell you, Bud you’d be wieser to choose something else.”

“Yeah? Like what?”  

 “Like watered down goat piss!”  Tom muttered quietly.

I choked. Eugh! I flipped the menu over, glancing down the list. “Oh, do they have that here?” i feigned innocence.

Tom looked at the menu over my shoulder, pretending to be serious. “Doesn’t look like it. Nope, no goat’s piss. Only the Budweiser.”

“You mean they don’t have real goat’s piss on offer, they only have the artificial stuff in a Budweiser can?? Well, all I can say is that’s a bitter pils to swallow!” I made my most outraged face and looked ‘round for the barman. 

Tom slid an arm over my shoulders, holding me firmly in my seat, obviously not trusting me not to leap up and give the barman a piece of my mind on his lack of authentic goat’s piss. Wise man, our Tom.

“Now darling, you mustn’t harass the barman over his stock. You wouldn’t want to booze his ego, would you?”

“Who said anything about egos?” I eyed the man behind the bar. “He looks a stout young man, but I bet I could take ‘im…”

“Darling, I forbid you to take the poor man anywhere!! I’ll nip this in the bud!” And then Tom used his patented distraction technique, snogging me until I forgot what I was saying.

“Mmmm.” I blinked my eyes open and tried to stop my knees wobbling. Well, that was… refreshing. “Um. What was I saying?” 

“We were perusing the menu,” Tom said with a sly smile, and I turned my attention back to the menu in my hand. Luckily while page one was the tried and not-so-true international brands, page two made this beer bar worth the visit. Of course the cervesa pun didn’t hurt, either! I don’t think you could have kept us out once we heard that name.

The various beers were described like a posh wine menu that had been turned into beer porn. 

For example, Vienna Pale was described as “Based on the classic Vienna Lager style (though technically an ale), and annoyer of a certain type of beer geek, Vienna Pale is a sweet, malty drinking pint, with plenty of Saaz, Citra and Cascade dry-hopping to keep things interesting”. 

I giggled over the menu. It might have been a little pretentious, if someone hadn’t come along and dirtied up the prose, but what the hell.

 In the end, I chose a Pilot Bucks Peach, of which the menu said ‘Pilot is a Leith microbrewery that specialises in kick-arse brews. Lovingly handcrafted by braw men in kilts, it’ll lay you out with a smile on your face!’

Apparently it came in flavours! I didn’t fancy the mochachino flavoured one, which seemed more like a breakfast beer, if there is such a thing, but the Buck’s Peach sounded good.

Tom opted for one called, with devastating originality, An IPA. 

I knew that meant an India Pale Ale. It was described as “An interpretation of the challenge ‘Create a New Scotland IPA’. A mix of malted oats and barley, then dry hopped both during active fermentation, then once fermentation is complete. A juicy, orgasmic starburst of a beer.”

“Tom, you know that it’s just beer, right? I mean it’s a bit much to expect the earth to move from a beer..” I cautioned him, shaking my head at the over-the-top description.

Tom’s lips twitched.. “But I have such high hops for it!”

I rolled my eyes. “Well, I hope it moves you to cheers!” I patted his hand. “If the earth doesn’t move, I’ll move it for you when we get home, dear.”

The beer turned out to be pretty good, but nowhere good enough to move anyone’s earth. Eh, the chips were much better, golden crisp on the outside, lovely, hot, and mealy in the center. With lashings of salt and malt vinegar they were the orgasmic item on the menu!

Tom took the last chip on my plate as I was swallowing the last of my Bucks Peach, which was a good lager, but not peachy at all. My other hand came down on his wrist, pinning it to the table. I carefully set my glass down and narrowed my eyes at him.

The fucker gave me those big puppy dog eyes and I lost all desire to fight him for it. I let go his wrist and gently took the chip from him, brushing his lips tantalizingly with it.

Tom delicately took it between his teeth and nibbled it down to my fingertips, licking the last of the salt away. 

I sighed. “The sacrifries I make for you…” and shook my head. Tom chuckled.

“Darling, I always pay my debts.” His hand slid around to the nape of my neck and he leaned in to take my lips in a searing kiss that I felt all the way down to my toes.

“That’s only the down payment, you’ll get the balance when we get home,” he murmured against my lips. I tried not to whimper too loudly when he sat up.

“Right. Get off your heineken, it’s time to go. What’s next?” Suddenly Tom is all business. I blinked, and after a moment to gather myself, got the list from my bag.

“It says here The Lairds Scotch. And it’s only three doors down.”

A quick dash into the cold and we were there.

Tom took my coat, and when he came back I nodded at the bar, turning innocent eyes up at him.

“If you ask the barman to help you find the good scotch does that make him your spirit-guide?”

“Dear god, I hope so,” he groaned. “I’m going to need all the spiritual help I can get after that clanker!” 

“Oh look,” I pointed to an upright piano next to the opposite wall to change the subject. I could just imagine people having a sing-song around it in the old days. “You should give us a tune,” I cajoled as we stepped up to the bar. 

Tom ordered a Laphroig, but I couldn’t face any more scotch after my last go round. I asked for a G&T. 

“It doesn't look like it’s been tuned since the war,” Tom deflected. 

“They play it every Sat’de,” an elderly gentleman at the next table interrupted. “Owner’s son is studying music and he or one o’ ‘is friends play for us every weekend.” He nodded judiciously. “They’re not bad.”

Tom did not look thrilled by this news, but I’d seen his eyes linger longingly on the old piano. 

“There you go,” I smiled smugly as I sipped my G and T. 

“If I’m playing, you’re singing,” he challenged. 

Ooh! Things just got interesting. Well, whatever my reluctance to be caught singing in public, if he wanted this, then I would give it to him. But I’d make him work for it!

“Is that right?”

“Of course, the only song I know is Little Drummer Boy,” he said as if that settled it. Bloody hell, I hate that song!

“No,” I shook my head. “There will be no pa-rum-pa-pums! Besides,” I sassed, “Drummers are the twelfth day of Christmas! And I definitely remember your Mum saying something about how you’d regale them with Christmas carols every year until you left for Uni!” 

“My darling,” He affected a world weary air. “Do you have any idea how long ago university was for me?” 

“Sure, grandpa,” I teased. “But you don’t play something for that many years and just forget it.” 

I polished off my G&T, and went to order another from the barman. I’d need more booze to get me up to the piano. Either I sing better when I’ve had a good belt, or I only think I do. But it’s all in the mind, right? Let’s hear is for Dutch Courage!

I brought another scotch for Tom as well, even though he doesn’t actually need any Dutch Courage to perform. He’s in his element. But fair is fair, right? If I need to get tipsy to sing in public, well, he’s just going to have to keep up!

“I’ll tell you one I do remember.” The twinkle in his eye had an evil slant. 

“Hmm?” I was cautious. God knows what he’d come up with

“I’ll be Home for Christmas.”

I smiled smugly. He thought he’d stump me? Ha! I know that song. By heart, even. I love that old tune. Dad had a bunch of old LP’s, and an honest-to-god turntable, and he loved to play the old songs at Christmas time. His favourites, and mine as well, were Nat King Cole, and Bing Crosby. 

But I decided to be difficult. Anyway, if he thinks I don’t know the tune, he’s in for a surprise! And there’s nothing I like better than surprising Tom.

 “Sorry, I don’t know the lyrics.”

“And you say I’m the old one,” He laughed. “Google them on your phone, you numpty!” Tom rolled his eyes and shook his head despairingly.

Yeah, I was sort of hoping he wouldn’t think of that. What the hell, I’d made him work hard enough for it. I relented. Besides, he has to pay for that ‘numpty’ crack!

“Bring it.”  I tossed my hair behind my back and straightened my jumper, giving it a little tug downward to distract him.

It’s a song written from the perspective of a soldier in World War II, to his girl back home.”

His eyes closed and I could see him relax, his shoulders went down and his head fell forward, drawing a deep breath in and letting it out slowly. His long fingers carefully picked out the tune as if reminding himself how it went. 

His fingers danced over the keys as he launched into the slow, romantic song. It did have a world war two vibe to it. I swear he could have been one of those old fashioned crooners as he began to sing in his smooth baritone. I shouldn’t have been surprised, he’s an amazing mimic, and I saw I Saw the Light.

“I'll be home for Christmas...You can plan on me… Please have snow, and mistletoe...and presents by the tree…”

 Tom lifted his chin at me, commanding me to sing with him. I smiled and purposely set my mobile down on the piano, joining in with my alto voice.

 “Christmas Eve will find you...Where the love light gleams...I'll be home for Christmas...If only in my dreams…”

The old gent and his friends, as well as the barman joined in and sang the rest with us. They clapped when we’d finished, encouraging Tom to play more.

One of the old gents waved his pint glass at us. “Can you give us Oh Holy Night, lad?

Tom nodded. “If you don’t mind the odd stumble, I might just manage it, “ Tom said modestly. Then he launched into the old church music, the old men singing along with us. Dad had always dragged us to Christmas services, so I was able to keep up.

Where I didn’t remember the verse, I sipped at my G&T and enjoyed the men’s voices winding together. They weren’t half bad! Everybody clapped happily at the end, egging Tom on to play another.

Tom laughingly agreed, sliding me a sly challenging look. He was a picture, his face flushed with exhilaration and happiness. It’s a good look on him. And it melts my knickers!

“Chestnuts roasting on an open fire…”  There went that challenging eyebrow. I wrinkled my nose at him and joined in.

“Jack Frost nipping at your toes...Yuletide carols being sung by a choir...And folks dressed up like Eskimos…”

The old gents were silent, not knowing the lyrics, I suppose. So we gave them a duet. Dad would have been proud.

When we’d finished and the last lingering note faded the gents applauded and called compliments, offering us another round, which we both declined. But we gave them Auld Lang Syne for an encore, and they all joined in. Tom laughingly refused requests for more.

“I’d better get back to my date, or there won’t be any kisses for me tonight!” he kidded. “And she’s ever so much better looking than you lot! Thanks for letting me play your piano!”

I tend to forget that Tom is such a born performer until moments like that. Watching him perform for an audience is like watching a rose bloom on fast forward; all that is hidden quietly away burst into full colour, and everyone nearby just basks in it.

When we went to finish our drinks back at our table, I slid into his lap, nuzzling his hair and wrapping my arms around him wordlessly. He is so precious to me, and I’m not making a Lord of the Rings joke.

At the Duchess and Tipple Tom made me drink a big glass of water after I called it the Duchess and Nipple, and couldn’t stop giggling. We agreed it was time for dinner.

“How about the Dukes Drunk Ducks? That’s not too far from here.”

“The what?”  

“Dukes Drunk Ducks. It’s an old legend. It used to be called The Dukes Duck. One day the landlady came down to find all her ducks dead. Being a practical sort, she shrugged and put duck on the menu for that night. But as she was preparing them to cook, they woke up! Apparently they were only drunk and passed out after drinking from a leaking barrel of ale, not dead, and the name kind of stuck.” 

“Yeah, okay, they sound like ducks I’d want to know.” 

“I haven't been there for a few years but they used to do good food too.”

I checked my watch. “We do need something to soak up the alcohol,” I agreed. That and the mile long walk there should help sober us up enough to finish the crawl, I mean ‘Leap’,  without being totally blotto. A good night out is no fun if you can’t remember it the next day! 

“We’d best have a pee before we leave,” Tom cautioned. 

“Good idea.” Yeah, a mile long walk with crossed legs didn't sound like much fun.

***

The Drunk Duck took its name and theme very seriously. Every wall was adorned with pictures of ducks, including duck portraits of ducks in Victorian clothing, some in military uniforms with high ranking titles. 

Mr Firequacker, Sir Quacks a Lot, and Admiral Moby Duck were among my favorite names, although the fanged duck in a black cape titled Count Quackula topped my fav list. 

“I’m surprised they don’t have duck a l'orange,” I said. 

“You don’t kill your namesake,” Tom said with mock shock, clutching his chest. 

“I don’t care how much I like this place, I am not giving up crispy duck pancakes with hoisin sauce. Not even if I can never look another duck in the eye again.”

Tom Laughed as the waiter set our plates in front of us, wished us bon appetit, and bustled off. I smiled at Tom over my Shepherds Pie and he smiled fondly back, and we both took a bite.

“It’s pretty good stuff, this.” I scooped a bit more onto the back of my fork.

“Not as good as yours, though.”

“Well, cheers!” I lifted my glass of wine and tilted my glass to him.

“Mm. Pudding was even better, as I recall.” Tom purred, sending shivers down my spine. My brow furrowed. I didn’t remember any pudding.

“What pudding ? We drank beer and watched Lawrence Llewellyn-Bowen destroy some poor sod’s house!”

Tom wiped his mouth with his serviette and grinned wickedly.

“Oh yes! I distinctly remember I had a couple of lovely frozen bombes with cherries on top.” Tom’s eyes fell to the v-neck of my jumper, and I felt my face warm.

“Uh huh. Icy what you did there.” 

We each nursed only one glass of wine during the meal, but we ordered water too and stayed for desert. I was feeling almost sober as we left, but I could do with the walk to the next bar to help the food digest. 

“Where to?” Tom asked as we stepped out the door. 

“Oh, um…” I felt my pockets but couldn’t find the list. “The Bloody Bits of Barons or something?” 

“Do you mean The Barron’s Bollocks?”

“That’s the one. But I think my name is better.” 

“Definitely more memorable, darling,” Tom piped up. “And rather bloodthirsty. If I ever become a publican I shall definitely call my establishment The Baron’s Bollocks.” He discretely hid a belch behind his hand.

God, I adored that cut glass accent of his. He could say absolutely ridiculous things like that and still sound like a sexy toff. It wasn't fair! I was about 50% sure I was drooling by now, and I’m absolutely certain that my mascara has migrated south since I put it on before we left. Tom meanwhile just had that sexy, tousled look about him. All he needs is some lipstick. Which I was happy to provide! I grabbed his chin and snogged him hard. Leaning back, I surveyed him. Damn, that shade looks as good on him as it does on me.

I eventually found my list in a pocket I was sure I’d checked three times already. 

I slipped my arm through Tom’s and leaned my  head on his shoulder, sighing contentedly as we strolled along.

“You seem happy.” Tom noted. 

“Mmm,” I wrapped my other arm around his too. 

“If I’d known feeding you was all it took to tame the beast, I’d have tried it months ago,” he laughed. 

The idea of having been tamed made me giggle. Okay, maybe I wasn't quite as sober as I felt, but I was feeling very happy right now, even if I was freezing my metaphorical bollocks off.

“Feeding’s not the only thing that tames me,” I purred, but the effect was rather ruined when I slipped on a patch of ice. Luckily Tom was there to catch me up. I might have hammed it up a bit.

“We still have three more pubs to get to!” Tom groaned, scrubbing at his face to wake himself up

“No, two more!” I corrected.

“Three!” 

“Look, mister, this is my day and if you keep arguing, it’ll be four.” I crossed my arms and glared at him. We’d been arguing about whether it was Ten or Eleven Lords a Leaping all evening. Tom liked the alliteration, the drunk posh idiot. Alliteration! I ask you!

“But, that’s brewtal! I’m sure-”

“Five.”

“Alright! Okay, you win! Please don't make me go to five more pubs! We’ll be drunk as Lords until Easter!”

“Now see how much easier it is when you agree with me?” I smiled my victory and batted my eyelashes.

“Well the alliteration is still better with Eleven Lords a Leaping,” he grumbled,  “but if you make us go to 13 pubs neither of us will be having much fun after! So, what’s it going to be?

“Fine, we can skip the Duke of Marlborough. Never liked his ciggies anyway.” I drew a rather drunken line through the name, and Tom took it from me, stuffing it in his pocket.

Tom grinned, pleased to have won. “Don’t worry, I’ll make it up to you later.”

“Oh yes you will!! What’s next?” I patted my pockets again. Wait. Now Tom had my list as well! But he had an excellent memory. Well, he did when he wasn't drunk. I reached for his pocket to retrieve the list of pubs, but he wasn’t having it. After tussling with him for a minute I gave up and tried for a stern expression.

“Hang on, this is my game! I make the rules.” I tilted my head, thinking hard. “It is my game, right?” 

Tom snickered into his pint of cider. “You, my darling, are drunk.”

“You wouldn't exactly pass a breathalyser either, buddy! Better still, I’d like to see you do those American tests, where you walk heel to toe and touch your finger to your nose!” I swayed as I made my point. What was it again?

“I’d rather touch your nose,” Tom smouldered as he leaned in close, his nose inches from mine. 

I shook my head as if shaking off a stupor. “Hey, no fair using The Smoulder to distract me!” I paused, trying to puzzle out where I was going with this. “Um, what were you distracting me from, anyway?” 

“Hell if I know.”

“My good sir, you are snockered!”

“Am not!”

“Are too!”

“Not!”

“Too!”

“That’s the way to do it,” the barman said with a chuckle as he wiped down the neighbouring table.

“Sorry?” Tom asked. 

“Am not, are too?” he imitated them. “I thought you were doing pantomime. ‘Tis the season, right?” 

“‘That’s the way to do it’ is Punch and Judy,” I corrected him.

“Oh no it isn’t,” the barman teased.

“Oh yes it is!”

“This could go on for a while and I need to pee.” Tom drained the rest of his cider before he stood up and headed for the toilets. “Behave yourself!” he shot over his shoulder as he ambled away.

“Right, onward to the next bacchanalia! The Bloody Queen Mary was it?” 

I pulled the list from my pocket and unfolded it. “Yes.”

We staggered out into the cold night air. I breathed deeply, letting it sober me up a little. 

Not that I was roaring drunk. Not quite. Not yet. This next one was our second to last pub of the night though, and we were only having one each. Two more couldn't hurt too much, right? 

Down for the Count was our final pub of the night and I held up my glass of sherry and giggled. I was definitely getting tiddly. And naughty. “Here’s to every Tom’s Dick and Sherry!”

“That, my dear, was a toastament to bad puns! And who’s this Sherry bird, anyway?” Tom squinted at me. “You aren’t setting up a threesome are you?”

“No fear,” I snickered, “I don’t think Tom’s dick would be up to the job after all this!” I waved my glass around, spilling it over the rim. 

Tom grinned. “Apparently Sherry is sloshed as well!”

I snickered and made a small noise of annoyance at the sherry trailing down my wrist, glancing around for something to wipe it off, but there were only glasses and coasters on the small table.

Tom tisked, taking my glass from me and lifting my hand to his mouth. “May I?” The fucking smoulder was back.

“Be my guest.” My voice had gone all breathy, and I swallowed hard as his tongue came out and delicately licked the trickle of sherry from my wrist to my fingers.

Hot blue eyes stared into mine as he sucked a finger into his mouth, swirling his tongue around each one to clean the sticky sherry from my fingers.

I breathed out hard, squirming in my seat to ease the need building below as he left a kiss in my palm.

“Mmm. Sherry tastes sweet, but you taste sweeter…” 

“I’ll call us a cab,”

It started to snow on our way home in the cab, just light flurries at first, and then big, fat flakes drifting down out of the sky just as we were climbing out of the cab in front of Tom’s.

The cab left, and Tom wrapped his arms around me, turning my back to his front, and setting his cheek next to mine. We stood on his top step, tranquilly watching the snow fall , peacefully muffling the city noises all around us, listening to each other’s breathing as it fogged in the cold air.

Tom was warm at my back and I leaned against him, wrapping my own arms over his, and just simply enjoying the quiet moments.

Eventually I realised that I needed to pee. With that came the awareness that my feet were freezing in their trainers, and a headache was beginning to bloom behind my eyes.

I turned my head back and up, kissing Tom’s cool lips for a long luxurious moment.

I whispered in his ear, “I really need to pee.”

He didn’t laugh, he simply nodded and fished his keys out of his pocket and let us in. Tom took my coat as I kicked my trainers off and padded through the dark house to the loo.

I gasped when I flipped the switch, light stabbing through my eyes and waking my incipient headache. I quickly flipped the light off, deciding that there were some things that I was perfectly capable of doing in the dark.

I did what I needed to do and had a quick wash before I opened the door and found Tom leaning on the wall opposite, with two bottles of water and a bottle of paracetamol crooked in his elbow against his chest.

He took my hand and quietly drew me up the stairs, undressed me, and sat me on the bed. Setting down his burden, he twisted the cap off a bottle of cold water and handed it to me, quickly doing the same for himself.

“One more drink, darling. What shall we drink to?” 

“Don’t know, don’t care!”

“That’s good enough!”

He tapped his water bottle against mine and we both drank thirstily. I moaned at the cool liquid sliding down my throat, it felt so good.

“Nothing like copious amounts of alcohol to dry you out.” Tom set his half empty bottle down and opened the paracetamol, tapping two out on his palm and offering them to me.

I’m nobody’s fool, I took the damn pills even though I detest swallowing them. If I didn’t  I knew I’d be sorry in the morning.

I fell back on the bed with a groan. Tom settled me under the blankets, chuckling and ignoring my uncoordinated attempt to do it. I gave up and let him man handle me because I really was tired.

Stripping off as he made his way a little carefully into the ensuite, I listened drowsily to the homey sound of Tom humming to himself as he did whatever. I think it might have been a bit of the Nutcracker. My eyes were drifting shut on the slightly swaying bed, feeling warm and sleepy.

Tom lifted the blankets and slid in next to me, wrapping around me and dropping a kiss below my ear.

I woke some time before dawn with Tom’s warm body spooned around me from behind, and my bloody phone ringing far too loudly.