Harold Moser didn't so much wake up as slowly and painfully return to consciousness. His brain, overloaded by his antics, including two powerful orgasms, first with Leila after they had come back to her home from lunch, then with Leila and Dana as the two of them double-stuffed Dana, had finally said enough is enough and had shut itself off after he'd hit the floor, thanks to Dana's shoving him off the bed to make room for herself. He was flat on his stomach, with his head turned so that his left ear was compressed between his skull and the hard, hard wooden floor of Leila's bedroom. He experimentally flexed his hands and feet, finding to his surprise that they still worked. Moving his arms and legs produced pains as his body suddenly realized that it had been lying on a wooden floor without moving for a substantial length of time. It was about five minutes before he could finally muster the strength and coordination to first roll over and then sit up. He had to lie down quickly when the room spun around, but after it had stopped, he sat up again, more carefully this time. It took another five minutes to finally get to his feet, where he stood shakily by the bed, gazing fondly at the peacefully sleeping Leila, on the right side, and Dana on the left, who were facing each other.
Seeking freedom, he quietly searched the room and found the nice walking shoes, slightly ruffled dress shirt, the deep navy jacket and pants of his tuxedo, and the rich red cummerbund, which had somehow landed on the back of the chair. It was partially hidden under Dana's neatly folded navy jacket and knee-length dress, where she had put them before Leila had relieved her urgent need that had been caused by her appearing on their doorstep just as he and Leila had finished a hard, frantic fucking and had blasted her with a wave of orgasm energy. He found his underwear and one sock, but figured that he'd be better off with a fresh set and quietly padded out of Leila's bedroom and across the hall into the spare bedroom, in which his traveling pack had been placed, was it yesterday? It seemed so long ago.
He extracted the required undergarments from the pack and quickly dressed, including his rather battered traveling hat, whose dingy tan colour did not match his tuxedo at all. He retrieved his staff from where it had been dropped in the hallway when they were en route to the bedroom and, holding his shoes in the other hand, he retreated to the kitchen, where he quickly slipped them on, tied the laces, grabbed his staff in his right hand, and quietly opened the kitchen door with his left.
"Hi, Papa!" piped his daughter Marcie and he almost screamed with surprise. Her right hand was positioned to open the door and her left hand had the key to the lock. Her medium-brimmed white hat, as well as the rest of her four-foot-nine frame, long auburn hair, and her clothing showed ample, grimy evidence of her having been running with the pack of kids that roamed the town during the weekends.
"Hi, Marcie," he managed to say after regaining his composure. Why, oh why, is it that every time he's tried to sneak away somewhere, a woman has caught him? "Shh, Mama and Ms. Dana are having a nap and I don't want to wake them up." He stepped outside and quietly closed the door.
"I went to tell the kids about your award ceremony so that we could spread the word, but we found a kickball at the Potters' place and, well,..." she trailed off sheepishly. "I was going to ask Mama to Clean me so that I could go to Pella's to get my dress," she continued as her father, unable to suppress a loving grin, shook his head.
"Stand over there and I'll Clean you up," he sighed. She moved to the boundary between the small lawn and the garden and braced herself. Instead of having the Clean spell direct the grime to the privy, he decided to let it blow out just to see how much she had accumulated, and the cloud of dust that it generated was impressive indeed. A gentle easterly breeze made it drift over the garden, where it slowly settled and dispersed. "If there were some way to harness your dirt-attraction ability to house cleaning, we could have the cleanest house in town," he said, hands on hips and a patently fake scowl on his face. "Oof!" he said as she collided with him for a big hug, which he returned. She stood back a few steps and looked up.
"Papa, that hat will never do!" she exclaimed, pointing at the broad-brimmed item. "If Mama sees you wearing it with your tuxedo, she will say naughty words to you!"
"Oh, very well, how's about I change the colour to make it match better?" he asked, removing it and then stepping into the shade cast by the house. The sun had moved well into the west by now, as it had somehow become late afternoon. "Here's how you cast the Change Colour spell," he said, placing the offending item on the table and hitting it with a Clean spell, generating more dust. He carefully and slowly made the motions with his hands and fingers and said the words clearly so that she could hear them properly, and a small Window appeared next to the hat. Said Window had a colour palette arranged in a doughnut shape, with a small white circle located at the hat's current colour. "All you have to do is drag the circle around to where you want the colour you want is located," he said moving it with its finger to the blue section, "and then move it inwards for darker or outwards for lighter." Marcie's eyes were wide with fascination as he gave the circle a tap and the hat abruptly changed colour to match with his tuxedo. "Now you change the colour of the hatband to match the cummerbund." Cautiously, she reached out to touch the circle, then moved it to the red section and carefully adjusted it to match. With a tap, the band changed to red and he dismissed the Window.
"Nicely done!" he praised, and she grinned as he put it on his head. "Now, let's get to Pella's before Mama and Ms. Dana wake up. I don't want you to hear the words they will say when they can't find me," he added with a wink as he grabbed his staff and they skedaddled around the house and onto Main St. "When Pella confiscated my clothes," he glowered, making Marcie giggle, "she also took the money that was in my pockets, and I'll need some of that to get something to eat. Since you are the stomach with legs, I assume that you're probably hungry too."
"And thirsty! All that running around works up an appetite," she replied.
"The butcher's shop has some tasty meat pies, if I recall," he said thoughtfully. "One of those should keep our tummies occupied until dinner time."
"Mama gets them all the time," said Marcie as they passed the bakery. Nobody was behind the counter at the moment, so they continued the short distance to Pella's shop and went in. Pella was attending to two middle-aged women at the front of the shop, but Ramon, her husband, and Olivia, her second daughter, were free and descended on them.
"Hi, Mister Ramon. I've come to get my dress. It's almost time for Papa's award."
"Of course. Come with me and we'll get it on you," he replied with a big smile. He, Pella, Olivia, and Sylvia had been refugees from Carcosa after the battle to rid the country of the oppressive Yellow Autarch. Harold had played a big part in their rescue and eventual trip to the Kingdom, but hadn't known where they'd wound up until he'd started visiting Magwitch as part of his rounds as a Healer (later, Senior Healer) of the Order of St. Thrimble. He'd always made a point of visiting them while he was in town.
"When you snatched my clothes, you also got the money in my pockets," he said to Olivia, giving her the benefit of a fake pout that earned a snicker, "and the butcher will be much happier if I pay for the father and daughter snacks that we need to sustain ourselves."
"I'll go get you something, Healer Harold," she replied, turning and retreating to the back of the shop to whatever hidey-hole had his clothes. He leaned against the left side wall and was watching the back of the store when Marcie emerged from the right curtained change area in her blue dress, which was a very similar shade as her eyes, then walked to the middle of the store to look at herself in the mirrors. Her hat was in her hand and he could see that her hair had been braided in the same way as Leila's. He strode over for a better look.
"You look like a million Sovereigns!" he exclaimed proudly. "It's a good thing that I have my staff with me to chase off the boys!" he continued, scowling ferociously and looking around for imaginary boys to whack. Everyone around laughed at his antics, as he'd hoped.
"Oh, Papa," exclaimed Marcie, putting her hands on her hips and rolling her eyes. "I have my own staff and can beat off the boys that I don't want."
"That would be all of them, right?" She nodded, but then got a faraway look and turned a little pink. "Aha! Names! I want names!"
"All you'll get is a meat pie!" said Olivia sternly, giving him a handful of coins, including a bunch of copper pennies, three silver doubloons and a gold Sovereign, which he quickly transferred to his right pocket. "You are not allowed to tease your beautiful daughter about boys! Out with you!" She and then Sylvia began chivvying him towards the door, ignoring his protests.