Jazzmin Flush (28)

   
   "Jazzmin Flush (28)"
   
   Jazzmin Flush, her California, ultraviolet-exposed flesh glistening with glittering glow, bubbling like heated champagne in a make-shift hot tub; plus, her dirty-blonde mane luminously lathered in the loving luxury of water-blue aqua, all within the icy confines of Thomas' Quasi-Fortress of Solitude, the angelic architecture due to the Divine Sculptor of many things.  And Thomas, in human form, is watching, not rudely leering, his sweet, Miss Jazzmin Flush.
   
JAZZMIN FLUSH
Opens her long-lashed eyes.  What?  You?  You saved me?
  
THOMAS
Who the hell else lives way up here?  And I'm sorry for saying hell.
  
JAZZMIN FLUSH
You are sooooo Thomas.  This feels nice.  It's a hot tub like those ice monkeys have.
   
THOMAS
You're safe,  And I had to, by necessity, glare at your boobies and muscular butt cheeks.  But it looks like you haven't shaved your legs or pits for weeks.
   
JAZZMIN FLUSH
Is this how couples talk?
  
THOMAS
We're not a couple.
   
JAZZMIN FLUSH
Thomas--I just strutted my butt over an entire continent to find you.  Yes.  Yes--we are a couple!!!
   
THOMAS
You don't have to yell at me about it, Jazzmin.