Gingerbread
folder
Erotica › Het - Male/Female
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
9
Views:
3,709
Reviews:
2
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
Erotica › Het - Male/Female
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
9
Views:
3,709
Reviews:
2
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to persons living, dead, or otherwise residing on other planes of existence (save those references to historical and/or public personages)…is strictly a matter of incredible coincidence.
(Black Friday)
(Black Friday)
Lisa’s boss, Audra, was ever optimistic at all times. She and Sam had long suspected that most of Natural Things’ clientele couldn’t be bothered with such commercialistic ventures as Black Friday, but Audra said she wouldn’t be a credible businesswoman if she didn’t take advantage of the biggest shopping day of the year to boost her year-end bottom line.
So Lisa and Sam sat behind the long glass counter at the front of the store, drinking coffee and waiting for customers. Around eleven AM someone finally came in and stocked up on the handmade bar soap which had been marked down by 75 percent.
“Oh we’re raking it in now,” Sam muttered sardonically.
“I guess we can start thinking about what we want for lunch,“ Lisa said, minutely adjusting a display of essential oil vials.
“Audra made some kind of stew or something for us. There’s a crock pot on the table in the back.”
“As long as she didn’t make any cookies,” Lisa replied, and they both snickered.
“So. . .just the one time with you?” Sam asked.
“So far. You?”
“No one yet. But I don’t get out much.”
“No one at the party?”
“No one I actually wanted, no.”
Audra’s kitchen, the same size as Lisa’s as they lived in the same complex, was infinitely cozier. Lisa suspected it had something to do with its’ occupant using her skills with delight rather than obligation. Lisa could cook well enough to keep herself fed, but it was never something she felt compelled enough to master. And she never baked. Audra, on the other hand, always had something baking, a warm fragrant doughy smell filling the room.
Lisa accepted her invitations for socialization, doing prep work for various projects, drinking coffee, and sampling whatever was pulled from Audra’s oven, steaming and sweet. Today it was pound cake, and they had to wait until it had cooled sufficiently, sitting on the windowsill over the sink, before they could have a slice.
“You’re looking morose, this will cheer you up,” Audra said, handing her a piece on one of her cobalt blue cake plates.
“A sugar rush is always a good remedy, at least temporarily.” Lisa took a bite and was surprised to find the cake had an almost melting texture, and was equally sweet and tart, with a lemony aftertaste.
“Oh but this is Lavender Pound Cake, and lavender is good for depression.”
“I didn’t know you could actually eat lavender.”
“Oh sure, you can eat many different flowers. Not all of them have a distinct flavor, however.”
Lisa knew that if anyone could said to be an authority on herbology, it was Audra. It was not only her business, but her passion.
“Solstice is almost upon us, make sure you get something pretty to wear to my party. It’s not Saturnalia, but the coven already has dibs on that one.”
“Alright, although –“
“What?” she said, and Lisa looked at her as she took down a copper saucepan from the rack above her stove and thought about how much Audra reminded her of her mother, tall and ash blonde, capable and kind.
“It’s just that I always feel awkward at parties when I go by myself.”
“Is this why you’re so depressed? Because you don’t have a man?”
“No, I mean, I don’t define myself by relationships, but I am lonely. I haven’t had sex in over a year.”
Audra clucked and sat down across from her at the small wooden table with her own piece of cake.
“Why didn’t you say something sooner? I can fix that.”
“How so?”
Audra studied Lisa for a moment, elbows on the table, fingers steepled.
“You’re due for your cycle. Do you know when?”
“Next week. I’d have to look at my calendar to know the specific day. Why?” Lisa asked, slightly puzzled.
In response Audra fetched an object from her bathroom. It had a plastic funnel-like shape which tapered off at one end, small enough to fit in the palm of her hand.
“I’ll need some of your menstrual blood. Use this to collect it.”
Lisa took the object from Audra’s hand. It was made of silicon and gave with the slightest pressure of her fingers. She gave Audra a skeptical look.
“It’s a moon cup. Women no longer need waste what our nature produces, the evidence of our covenant with the moon – that although we are from the realm of dreams, we are also the creators.”
“What are you going to do with it? My blood, I mean.”
“Make you a charm. You need a charm to be charming. But if you’re willing to trust me, I promise that you will not be alone during the holidays.”
Although normally Lisa was skeptical of even the most practical of magical workings (the sigils of advertising, the transformation of the outward self by cosmetic potions), there was something about Audra which bespoke of a very ancient sort of wisdom. This had been impressed upon her from the day they’d met, when Lisa entered Natural Things, looking for oatmeal soap for her face, and Audra walked up to her and announced, “You needn’t wear yourself out looking for a horrid office job when you can work right here, among good-smelling things and friendly people.” To emphasize the point, Sam smiled at her from behind the counter.
When things are Meant To Be, they Will Be.
And with this philosophy Lisa was attempting to enjoy life without any overanxious expectations, draining the joy out of the simple things. Still, she exercised a reflexive fear of forces she wasn’t entirely sure could be trusted.
Lisa’s boss, Audra, was ever optimistic at all times. She and Sam had long suspected that most of Natural Things’ clientele couldn’t be bothered with such commercialistic ventures as Black Friday, but Audra said she wouldn’t be a credible businesswoman if she didn’t take advantage of the biggest shopping day of the year to boost her year-end bottom line.
So Lisa and Sam sat behind the long glass counter at the front of the store, drinking coffee and waiting for customers. Around eleven AM someone finally came in and stocked up on the handmade bar soap which had been marked down by 75 percent.
“Oh we’re raking it in now,” Sam muttered sardonically.
“I guess we can start thinking about what we want for lunch,“ Lisa said, minutely adjusting a display of essential oil vials.
“Audra made some kind of stew or something for us. There’s a crock pot on the table in the back.”
“As long as she didn’t make any cookies,” Lisa replied, and they both snickered.
“So. . .just the one time with you?” Sam asked.
“So far. You?”
“No one yet. But I don’t get out much.”
“No one at the party?”
“No one I actually wanted, no.”
Audra’s kitchen, the same size as Lisa’s as they lived in the same complex, was infinitely cozier. Lisa suspected it had something to do with its’ occupant using her skills with delight rather than obligation. Lisa could cook well enough to keep herself fed, but it was never something she felt compelled enough to master. And she never baked. Audra, on the other hand, always had something baking, a warm fragrant doughy smell filling the room.
Lisa accepted her invitations for socialization, doing prep work for various projects, drinking coffee, and sampling whatever was pulled from Audra’s oven, steaming and sweet. Today it was pound cake, and they had to wait until it had cooled sufficiently, sitting on the windowsill over the sink, before they could have a slice.
“You’re looking morose, this will cheer you up,” Audra said, handing her a piece on one of her cobalt blue cake plates.
“A sugar rush is always a good remedy, at least temporarily.” Lisa took a bite and was surprised to find the cake had an almost melting texture, and was equally sweet and tart, with a lemony aftertaste.
“Oh but this is Lavender Pound Cake, and lavender is good for depression.”
“I didn’t know you could actually eat lavender.”
“Oh sure, you can eat many different flowers. Not all of them have a distinct flavor, however.”
Lisa knew that if anyone could said to be an authority on herbology, it was Audra. It was not only her business, but her passion.
“Solstice is almost upon us, make sure you get something pretty to wear to my party. It’s not Saturnalia, but the coven already has dibs on that one.”
“Alright, although –“
“What?” she said, and Lisa looked at her as she took down a copper saucepan from the rack above her stove and thought about how much Audra reminded her of her mother, tall and ash blonde, capable and kind.
“It’s just that I always feel awkward at parties when I go by myself.”
“Is this why you’re so depressed? Because you don’t have a man?”
“No, I mean, I don’t define myself by relationships, but I am lonely. I haven’t had sex in over a year.”
Audra clucked and sat down across from her at the small wooden table with her own piece of cake.
“Why didn’t you say something sooner? I can fix that.”
“How so?”
Audra studied Lisa for a moment, elbows on the table, fingers steepled.
“You’re due for your cycle. Do you know when?”
“Next week. I’d have to look at my calendar to know the specific day. Why?” Lisa asked, slightly puzzled.
In response Audra fetched an object from her bathroom. It had a plastic funnel-like shape which tapered off at one end, small enough to fit in the palm of her hand.
“I’ll need some of your menstrual blood. Use this to collect it.”
Lisa took the object from Audra’s hand. It was made of silicon and gave with the slightest pressure of her fingers. She gave Audra a skeptical look.
“It’s a moon cup. Women no longer need waste what our nature produces, the evidence of our covenant with the moon – that although we are from the realm of dreams, we are also the creators.”
“What are you going to do with it? My blood, I mean.”
“Make you a charm. You need a charm to be charming. But if you’re willing to trust me, I promise that you will not be alone during the holidays.”
Although normally Lisa was skeptical of even the most practical of magical workings (the sigils of advertising, the transformation of the outward self by cosmetic potions), there was something about Audra which bespoke of a very ancient sort of wisdom. This had been impressed upon her from the day they’d met, when Lisa entered Natural Things, looking for oatmeal soap for her face, and Audra walked up to her and announced, “You needn’t wear yourself out looking for a horrid office job when you can work right here, among good-smelling things and friendly people.” To emphasize the point, Sam smiled at her from behind the counter.
When things are Meant To Be, they Will Be.
And with this philosophy Lisa was attempting to enjoy life without any overanxious expectations, draining the joy out of the simple things. Still, she exercised a reflexive fear of forces she wasn’t entirely sure could be trusted.