My Rock and Roll Fanasty, Clad in Leather Fanasty

Eric Idle Smut

A/N: Um...References to Python sprinkles through out. Nothing to bad. Reader discretion is advised.

Wtf...why did I say that?

Well, on to the smut.

xxx

A brisk fall day was in the air. The crackle under feet as the leaves were walked upon. A smile was on the man's face as he strode in the park alone, paying attention to the little things. The excitement that filled the air.

There wasn't much to do on a Saturday afternoon, and this was a perfect way, or as so the man felt, to celebrate a small victory of a small part in his life.

He'd just gotten...

You know what. You'll have to wait to here what it is.

A woman, about five foot four, pranced around the bustling city of London, this Saturday afternoon. She, in a tan trench coat, had a smile plastered to her face, her head staring at her walking feet. She smiled, because she was happy and the man that she just saw, a comedian, doctor and close friend, Grey Chapman, had afternoon tea with.

It was just the two of them, sipping tea, whilst they talked, and told jokes with the dark humour they both shared.

She smiled once again, turning her eyes on her street, were her flat laid, looking at the small shrubrey that laid next to the concrete steps.

She smiled for a different reason.

She met a man, named Eric, a bright Thursday morning in the breakfast café. None of the seats were open but a small booth, occupied by one, him.

The first thing she noticed was his cute smile and his sparkling blue eyes. His light brown hair was wavy and unkempt, in a rush maybe, but nevertheless, he introduced himself as a comedian and a musician.

They talked the topics of music, art, cars and comedy. She learned he played guitar and shared the same darker comedy.  Smiles were abudent and one thing lead to another, and Eric, like a gentleman, played for the coffee and small breakfast.

The girl gave him her phone number.

"Goodbye, darling." He said, his eyes smiling. "Next time we meet, I'll have my guitar."

"Have a nice day, Mr. Idle. Thank you for the coffee."

He smiled, "Don't mention it."

xxx

Eric kept catching his watch. It was twenty-five to five. He decided he should get home. She'd be waiting on the phone at five thirty.

He walked to the edge of the park and got a taxi.

Luckily, he wasn't that far from the park and didn't have the stereotypical talk with the driver, about anything that could come to mind. He paid the driver, a bit extra for keeping silent and arrived home.

Eric hummed a Beatles' tune, he showered, brushed his teeth and changed into a suit with a stripped tie, around his neck.

The phone rang. Eric swore under his breath and picked up the rotatory phone, twisting his fingers around the cord, anxiously.

"Mr. Idle," the girl's voice on the other end was excited and eager to meet his.

"Hello, dear. Five thirty, alright?"

Her voice was now jumping with joy, "Much alright. See you then."

She freshened up, beaming, trying to tidy her house up, from any little last minute things.

Water was in the kettle, tea cakes were laid out, her record player was all set, just needed to be turned on, and her hair was curled and put up.

Time was her enemy. Time made her wait. Time was a little narcasstic, arrogant bitch, she thought. She laughed at herself.

She needed to pass some time. And as soon as she met Eric, once more, he'd run away with her from the narcasstic little bitch of time.

The girl gazed at the clock, read a part of her book and when she was bored with it, she danced around to a forty-five or two.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

She almost jumped out of her knickers.

At the door was the blue-eyed man. "Good evening, my dear," he beamed, kindly. And took the girl's hand and kissed it.

She giggled at this action. She enjoyed his comforting prescene a bit more as every second passed, as she predicted, they were running alway from it.

Soon, the cakes had been eaten, the scones munched, the tea had been drunken, and music dying out.

A sparkle shined in their eyes as they talked about the meaning of life, galaxies, about nothing and everything at the same time and it was wonderful.

Eric imagined loving this woman. He imagined living with her. Sharing chocolate covered strawberries would be divine. Slow dancing would be brilliant. Amazing, even.

"Would you like to do something else now?" A smirk was clearly on her fair face, biting her lip had this whole thought more clear.

Tonight, Eric thought, would be the night.

And on to the bedroom, they went.

Well, fine then. That was quick. Oh, wait, this is my world. I can do whatever I would like to. So, ni.

She was now kissing the man of her dreams. Eyes closed, mouths slightly opened, french kissing.

"Ugh...everything about this man is perfect." The woman, standing about five-foot-four, weighing in at about 61 kilograms.

Off came the tie, the shirt, the dress, the pants and then they were falling too deep to hop of the killer rabbit's whole.

*insert cliché sex scene here, but everything she moans, replace with a cat meow*

xxx

I'm sorry. This short had Graham Chapman as the narrator.