Dunst Till Dawn

The Quest for The Tomb of King Gwenddolau

James H. Booth heaved open the front door of Dunst Till Dawn in a fury and approached the receptionist's desk before the cream-colored door could even squeak close. There was no mistaking that he was a bit agitated, evident by the fact that what was left of his once thick black hair was now messed up and matted, and it looked as though he had been pulling it out as a result of all the stress he was under. Now he was nearly half bald, and his formerly peaceful blue eyes looked anything but; giving him the appearance of that of an angry driver beeping his horn at a broken-down car on the highway.

"I must talk to Jack or Dawn immediately!" He emphatically announced. "It is a matter of national security!"

Seeing this regrettably comical sight, the young blond receptionist behind the mahogany desk responded almost automatically, acting as nonchalantly as possible. "Welcome to Dunst Till Dawn. We find whatever you want, from Atlantis to the remote control. How may I help you?" 

She knew that he wouldn't tell her. That he would tell her some BS about how he didn't have time to explain it to her, or something like that. Even though in truth, in the amount of time it would have taken him to tell her how she wasn't worthy of hearing what was so damn important, he could have just... told her what it was.

Nervously he checked his watch. "That is something I would rather tell them... in person." 

"Sir, you must realize that I can't just let you in because you say that it's important. Everyone says that. You must tell me what you need help with for us to help you. And if not... well then feel free to leave."

He had no time for this! The fate of the whole world as he knew it was at stake! And here he was engaging in a battle of wills with a girl less than half his age. If she only knew who he was. What he was trying to do. She would not be wasting his time like this.

But at last, he knew he could not tell her. She was not clearanced for that level of Intel. Yet if he were to get the help he desired, he knew he would have to first pass her inquiry. "I am in need of them in order to find..." He paused contemplating whether his goal was worth sharing such top-secret information. "The Tomb of King Arthur." The less that they knew the better.

"Oh, OK." She answered, unimpressed. Then she paged her boss, and after he told her it was okay to do so, she buzzed the button unlocking his office door, allowing Booth passage.

Naturally, when he entered, the first thing Booth noticed, was one of the most gorgeous girls he had ever seen in his 48 years of life. She was about 5,10 with mid-length light brown hair that came cascading down a little past her shoulders, bluish-green eyes that seemed to shine with a mixture of hope and love, skin that appeared to be softer than cotton, and she had an aura about her that seemed to radiate pure goodness, kindness, (and once again), love.

She also had one hell of a nice rack. (B36-cups from his estimation.) 

James knew from his research her name was Dawn Dunst. A fitting name, he thought. Her beauty was likened to that of the scenic spring mornings he remembered growing up in the country as a kid.

He then noticed the man next to her. Many of his characteristics were quite similar to hers, (Such as hair, and eye color). Except his physical features were more chiseled and prominent compared to hers, which were more rounded, making her appear innocent and adorable. Not like a puppy, or child. But in a sexy way, that made you want to strip off her clothes, throw her on top of a bed, pour honey all over her, and... Sorry, where was I? Oh yes...

...He also had much shorter hair, was considerably taller, and seemed to lack the aura of goodness she had. Projecting a much more hardened darker look to him. He also lacked the aforementioned nice rack. Well at least in his mind, a woman may have thought differently.