Humbert Humbert was forced to flee the country. He dived into the sea and swam over wallowing waves to Lolita Island, braving the horrors of the man-mangling mako sharks infesting the saltwater surrounds of that lovely lay of land. He collapsed on sensuous sands over warm imprints of bare Lolita feet. Tentatively touching hands of Lolita maidens tested over his body shortly thereafter, bore him up to transport and deposit him on his knees before the underaged Lolita Queen leisurely lounging on leather. She decided his destiny, and it was a heaven he would have prayed to a devil for. He would prepare daily sustenance for the flowering forms of girlhood. At mealtime he could watch the small bites of tasty food wander wistfully into the young girls' mouths. Evenings he was to work in the laundry washing and ironing by hand the undergarments that so intimately covered the lithe Lolitas by day. Mornings he would help clothe them, pulling up skirts and pulling down tops, subsequently leading the Nabokovian nymphets in morning gymnastics, the taut t-shirts he had so tenderly teased into place slipping to reveal the sun-touched skin beneath. He would have enjoyed it much more had not one of the man-mangling mako sharks enclosed its jaws around the worst possible place for Humbert Humbert.

Story #29