Vicky drove saying she would drop me off here to pick up my truck in the morning, we continued to talk about bullshit and how our families were doing ...efore reaching her house which took about nine to ten minutes from the bar. This town for the most part was small and everyone knew everyone, the type of towns I hated actually, I was a city boy and only came to the outdoors to get away in the woods for hunting and camping.Vicky's house was small but nice, big enough for one independent spirit. It was unusual not solely because she was a maiden penning love letters to a king, but because no bed maiden had ever carried nor talked openly of carrying the King’s stain—at least not in recent memory. She had, to the shock of all, become the King’s water wench. The King’s water wench . The term itself was a contradiction. Kings did not fire, so there could be no kreem to swallow, and thus ‘king’s water wench’ was a concept that simply did not exist in the minds or spoken word of the realm.. More

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