by Sue Johnson
I watched through the window as he whirled her up and down the ballroom, her dress sparkling with rainbows in the constellation of lights. They both looked flushed from their brief encounter in the shrubbery – the heat of their passion almost steamed up my camera lens.
I knew midnight would change everything. I moved into the shadows as her magnificent coach disintegrated into a pumpkin shell surrounded by six white mice. Cinders stood looking helpless in her underwear. I stepped forward, camera at the ready.
“Jethro,” she said, tears trembling on her eyelashes. “I never thought I’d see you again.”
“I don’t expect you did,” I said smoothly, “but you’ll be seeing a lot more of me now that you’re moving back in with me for a while.”
“The Prince adores you. I wonder what he’ll be prepared to pay to get you back. You should see the photos I’ve just sold to The Daily Scandal. They make Fifty Shades of Grey look like Sleeping Beauty.”