Her Royal Highness Princess Heggirkletina of the great house of Viidasnapperson had just completed her first erotic novella. How she longed for her manuscript to become a real paperback and to be able to proudly hold her first book in her hands. But the question played on her mind heavily – under which name should she publish her saucy tale?
It’s not very royal to become the author of erotica. Her father, the King, would never allow it. Her mother would call it disgraceful. In addition, was the significant risk that if the books were linked back to the palace, all sorts of sensational secrets would be lapped up by the press, who would have a field day analysing every degraded detail! Which nom de plume would feature on the cover of her racy reveal – raunchy romps in the royal Riviera retreat where she spent the roasting hot summers in their realm?
Picking a pen name was more stressful than writing a 60,000 word manuscript. So she asked the maid who was plumping the cushions on her couch a question she had never deemed necessary to ask her before. Princess Heggirkletina snapped her fingers, “You there, do you have a name?”
The maid looked terrified. Had she done something wrong? Was the Princess going to report her or have her dismissed? Her teeth chattered as she replied, “Y-y-ye-hess, yes, Your Highness.”
Impatience coursed through the Princess’ veins, “Well? What do they call you?”
“Je-Jeh-Jen. My name, my name is Je-Je- Jennifer,” she let out the panic-stricken breath she had been holding for the past two minutes.”
“Jennifer. Jennifer? I am not sure if I like that,” the Princess muttered to herself, “Fetch my wax jacket, I am going to take a turn around the gardens.”
As Princess Heggirkletina sauntered through the gardens, the head gardener, Mr Kirkorov panicked over this unannounced visit. It was unusual for any of the royal family to appear in the gardens at this time of day. The Palace gardens were always to appear immaculate, but some tasks were rather messy, so they were carried out at set hours when the Royals were usually occupied elsewhere.
His team were mowing lawns and carrying out noisier tasks that left a lot of debris to clear, like hedge trimming and pruning in the orchard. He watched anxiously as the Princess headed towards a gardener who was leaning over the manicured rockery, reaching for an invading weed. The young man was new to the palace gardening team and in his youth he had not mastered the strict uniform standards yet. From where he was standing Mr Kirkorov was mortified to see half of the younger gardeners buttocks on display as his shirt had rode up his back.
Mr Kirkorov was determined to intercept the path of the Princess. He scuttled through the herb gardens and leapt over the fence dividing the floral punchbowl displaying the stunning azaleas. In his eagerness to reach the young gardener and tell him to tuck his shirt in to his trousers, he dislodged one of the Grecian urns from it’s footing. Before Mr Kirkorov could prevent it some of the older masonry crumbled and a large clump of the ancient stone fell directly into the path of Princess Heggirkletina.
Startled by the thud and the size of the stone that had landed just twelve inches short of her, the Princess anxiously turned to make eye contact with the member of the Palace’s security who was always hovering around four metres behind her whenever she left the walls of the Palace. The security guard dashed over and through his wire requested assistance from other security staff. Remaining alert to anyone posing as a threat to the Princess, he was relieved when four other security guards quickly approached. He then began to inspect the area where the stone had landed, entrusting the Princess to another security guard who wished to escort her back to the safety of the Palace.
Before she turned back to the Palace, an animated scene distracted the Princess. She rested her eyes on the agitated gardener who was clearly furious with the younger man he was speaking to. Contemptuously, she called out to her security guard in a voice loud enough to terrify the two gardeners, “Ascertain the names of the two men arguing and report back to me in my salon.”
Later that day, Princess Heggirkletina sat at her desk looking at the three names she had noted down: Jennifer, Kirkorov and Fitzpatrick. You have perhaps guessed by now dear reader, that to avoid her father’s disapprobation and her mother’s disdain, Her Royal Highness Princess Heggirkletina, of the great house of Viidasnapperson, had no choice but to choose a nom de plume. She now publishes her erotica novels under her chosen penname: