SweePea

She flounced up to the desk, leaned on it with her elbows out, her fingers leaved together, and in a honeyed voice said, “My bed is unacceptable.”

The clerk handed a new arrival keys and turned to her. “I’m so sorry ma’am.”

“I want a new room, not a sniveling apology.”

“Sorry about that, too. We’re full.”

A gentleman approached, “I overheard and I’d like to offer my room.”

“Mr. Prince,” said the clerk. “How kind.”

SweePea liked what she saw when she looked at Prince. “I’ll try the bed. No point moving otherwise.”

Prince offered his arm. “C’mon honey.”