Nipped In The Bud - Taken In The Flower Shop

by Gemma Harrington

  Nipped In The Bud – Taken In The Flower Shop

  By

  Gemma Harrington

  Copyright © 2015 by Gemma Harrington. All rights reserved. This book may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher.

  I hope you enjoy the following book but please be aware that it contains very mature language and scenes of a very sexual nature. This book is intended for an over 18 audience!

  Keep visiting my website to keep up to date with new books!

  www.gemmaerotica.com

  Table of contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter One

  Charlotte slid the key into the first of the three locks and turned it. Repeating the process she opened the remaining two and pushed open the door. The alarm gave its warning beep and she quickly typed in the code to prevent it activating and alerting every policeman in the vicinity, sending them scuttling to a non-existent burglary.

  She picked the mail up from the floor and made her way to the counter, flicking light switches as she went. The scent of fresh flowers filled her nose and she reminded herself, as she did each day she opened her shop, just how lucky she was.

  It wasn’t every twenty two year old girl that owned a flower shop. Having said that, it wasn’t every twenty two year old girl that received a very healthy inheritance at the age of nineteen. She would always be immensely grateful to her wonderful late grandfather for what he had done for her, both in life, and in death.

  Charlotte knew her grandfather would approve of what she had used the money for and hoped that if he was looking down on her, he would be proud.

  She could have gone travelling the world and squandering the money in bars on far flung sunny beaches, but Charlotte was more sensible than that. She had jumped at the chance to take on the lease for the small shop in a prime position at the centre of the town she lived in.

  The previous tenants had run a boutique so there wasn’t much that needed doing to the inside to transform it into her pride and joy ‘Charlottes Blooms.’

  Placing the mail on the serving counter she headed into the storeroom. Charlotte gazed around at the different sized bouquets that were scattered around the room, some lying on the long table and others in pots, ready for the pavement.

  There was an hour to kill before she opened to the public. She always arrived early, giving herself plenty of time to get her displays ready and water the plants and bouquet’s that filled the shop. The first job of the day was the most important though - sitting down in the storeroom surrounded by beautiful flowers, enjoying a mug of hot coffee and preparing herself for the day ahead.

  Picking up the empty kettle she headed into the kitchen area to fill it. As she approached the sink she caught her reflection in the mirror that hung above it.

  She liked the lighting in this room, it made her look a little better than she did in the mirror she used to get ready at home. It gave her wavy long blonde hair an added shine and seemed to define her cheekbones just that bit more. She gazed at herself, thankful that she had her mother’s genes. Her lips were certainly a product of her mother’s bloodline, full and well-shaped – just like all her mother’s female relatives. She liked to show her lips off by using bright red lipsticks that emphasised the shape. Charlotte subscribed to the motto ‘if you’ve got it, flaunt it.’

  She was happy with how she looked, never buckling to celebrity culture, starving herself on fad diets and trying to achieve an impossible size 8 figure. She was content as a curvy five foot six, size 16. The term Charlotte used to describe herself was ‘Voluptuous,’ ignoring the ‘plus size’ label that shops and the popular press tried to hang on her.

  She smiled at herself in the mirror and made her way to the storeroom, kettle in hand, ready for her cuppa.

  Chapter Two

  Tasting the last of her unsweetened black coffee in her mouth, she placed her empty mug on the table next to the kettle and took her serving apron off the hook on the back of the door. It was a crisp white with small flowers embroidered into it in bright colours. ‘Charlottes Blooms’ was stitched proudly at the very top, right in the centre.

  She placed the loop over her neck and under her hairline, allowing the apron to drop down her front. It fell to just an inch or two above the hem of her loose yellow summer skirt, and covered her bright multi coloured vest top. She always tried to dress in bright colours in an attempt to emulate the flowers she was surrounded by all day. The only let down to her outfit, she thought, were her off white old sneakers.

  They were just so comfy though, and that was the important thing. She unlocked the back door to the storeroom, which opened out onto the delivery area, ready for the courier who would be coming to pick up her internet orders and began her day.

  The computer screen flickered to life as she clicked the mouse button. She sat on her high stool behind the counter ready to process the online orders. The courier would arrive at eleven to collect them and send them on their mission to spread joy throughout the world.

  That’s how Charlotte liked to think of it anyway, but she knew the truth was very different.

  She sent flowers to funerals, flowers to wives of cheating husbands (she could spot them from the messages) and sometimes vice versa – though Charlotte thought if she ever got married and cheated, she wouldn’t send her man flowers to apologise, she would work out what had gone wrong in her relationship that had caused her to cheat, and then try and fix the problem.

  That scenario was highly unlikely, Charlotte realised. She didn’t have a man to cheat on and she didn’t want one. She was busy concentrating on building her business and didn’t want distractions. Her last relationship, over a year ago, had been a failure anyway. He had done the dirty on her with no less than two other women during their 8 month period together. At least he hadn’t sent her flowers to apologise, he had just upped and left without a trace of regret when she had confronted him.

  She connected to the server that displayed any new orders for flowers and logged in.

  Five orders. Not bad. She was aiming for far more, but her website was quite new, and she hadn’t yet mastered the dark art of search engine optimisation – the tricks that get a website shown in search results.

  She hit the print button and the printer whirred into life, spewing out the orders, complete with the type of bouquet required, the address to be delivered to and the message to be attached.

  The first order was a happy one at least. A large bouquet of different coloured flowers, including some sprayed blue roses. “Congratulations on the birth of your baby boy! We can’t wait to meet him! Take care of yourselves. All our love, Aunty Ellie and Uncle James xxx

  Scanning the remaining orders she saw one that intrigued her, and made her slightly angry.

  “I’m sorry it didn’t work out. If I could change my size I would. Jason. Xxx”

  Poor man. Charlotte thought. Although she was only a size 16, and a voluptuous one at that, she knew how hurtful it could be to be judged on size. She couldn’t help but feel sorry for the guy, and really didn’t think the person in question deserved any flowers for judging him on his weight.

  She had to send them though, that was her job. She would make sure the bouquet wasn’t absolutely perfect though – maybe just a single petal slightly out of place.

  Chapter Three

  Bouquets tied and messages attached ready to be picked up by the courier, Charlotte arranged her display tables and flowers on the small piece of pavement she was a
llowed to use, and opened her shop for business.

  This was the quietest part of the day for her. She turned her radio on low and began walking around the shop applying little spritzes of water from a spray bottle to the flowers and plants that looked in need of it. Cars and buses trundled past in the street and people began to fill the pavements – arriving at the shops for opening time.

  She watched through the large pane glass windows. The butchers shop opposite already had customers, likewise the convenience store next to it. She often wished she was as busy as those two shops, but was happy in the knowledge that her profit margins were far higher than a butchers shop. She needed far less sales to make money, and she had her online orders.

  A bell tinkled, indicating the door being opened and the arrival of the first customer of the day. An elderly lady entered, pulling a shopping cart behind her and clutching a small bouquet of flowers from the street display.

  “Morning lovely!” the lady enthused, a happy smile on her face.

  “And a good morning to you too!” replied Charlotte, returning the smile, happy to start the day with such a lovely customer.

  Small talk made and money paid, the elderly lady left the shop, her bouquet (for her poorly neighbour) balanced on her trolley, and a spring in her step. Charlotte hoped that she would still be that happy with life when she got to that age.

  With no jobs left to do Charlotte sat at her counter, listening to the top ten songs in the charts. She certainly wouldn’t have helped their rise in the charts by buying any of them, she thought of herself as more of a rock chick, into everything from The Beatles to Metallica. She didn’t think her customers would appreciate walking in to the twanging of guitars and the high beat per minute of accompanying drums though, so she struck a happy medium with a run of the mill, something for everyone radio station.

  Chapter Four

  As Charlotte sat and listened to the repetitive drone of the ‘music’, trying to work out a particularly annoying problem with her website design, a car screeched to a halt outside the shop. She looked up and saw a man leaping out and heading for her shop.

  He flung the door open so quickly that the bell hardly had time to register.

  “Have you sent your orders out yet?” he half yelled.

  Charlotte looked at him, a little concerned.

  “Erm, no not yet. They won’t get picked up for an hour or so.” She replied, looking him up and down and wondering what was wrong.

  He was an attractive man, Charlotte thought. A good ten years older than herself but in great shape and well dressed.

  “Thank god for that!” he sighed, visibly relaxing, taking a deep breath and walking towards the counter, “I’ve been ringing the number on your website for the last hour but you didn’t answer.” He said, without accusation in his tone.

  Charlotte glanced down at the phone on the counter. The display screen was blank. It was flat. She placed it back in its charging holder and apologised.

  “I’m so sorry,” she said, “It’s out of juice.”

  “No worries, its fine,” he put his hands on the counter, “I’m just glad I made it here in time.”

  He visibly relaxed a little and stood up straight. He was around the six foot mark and had close cropped fair hair. He wasn’t bad looking at all Charlotte realised, angry with her intrusive thoughts - this was a customer, not a man she should be ogling.

  “What can I do for you?” Charlotte asked, getting off her stool.

  “I ordered some flowers, last night, drunk,” he said sheepishly, “I need to cancel the order. Don’t worry though I’ll take the flowers anyway. My flat could do with some colour!”

  “Aah, drunk in charge of a computer and credit card!” Charlotte laughed, “We’re all guilty of that now and again.”

  He grinned, his wide mouth opening to reveal healthy white teeth, “Well at least I can sort this one out!”

  “Yes, lucky for you,” she said, reaching for the order forms, “Which ones were they?”

  He looked at the floor, “The one with the embarrassing message,” he said, sheepish again, “It starts with ‘Sorry it didn’t work out.’”

  “Oh yes, I remember. The flowers are out the back. Are you sure you want them? I don’t mind cancelling and returning your money” Charlotte offered.

  He shook his head, “No, really. My flats very drab, some flowers will really brighten it up.”

  Charlotte turned and began walking to the storeroom, “Ok, give me a minute, I’ll just get them for you.”

  So this was Jason, the man who she had felt such pity for earlier. The message was a mystery now though. He wasn’t overweight, in fact he looked like he worked out and his weight was perfect.

  She found his bouquet and made her way back to the counter.

  “Here you are,” she said, “They should look lovely in a vase.”

  “Thank you,” he said, taking them from her, a relived expression crossing his face, “I’m so glad they won’t be delivered.”

  Charlotte wasn’t nosy but she was a very inquisitive person. She thought there was a huge difference between the two.

  “Do you mind me asking what the message was about?” she asked, feeling rude as soon as the words left her mouth, “I mean you don’t look overweight or anything.”

  “Oh right,” he said, looking at the floor, “No I’m not overweight, it wasn’t to do with that at all, this size problems a little more personal.”

  Charlotte was mortified. If it wasn’t his weight and it was personal there was only one other size she could think of, unless it was his feet. He must have a small penis and some thoughtless woman had insulted him for it. She felt awful. She had heard of so called ‘Size queens’ that wouldn’t sleep with a man unless he was very big, so maybe he was an average size and had encountered one of those bitches.

  She found ‘size queens’ disgusting. She could honestly say a man’s size was the furthest thing from her mind.

  She stopped her thoughts in their tracks. What was she thinking? This man had a problem and she had embarrassed him.

  “Oh, right,” Charlotte said, blushing a bright pink, “I’m really sorry for asking.”

  He shook his head, “It’s ok, I don’t mind, it’s my fault for writing that stupid message.”

  He looked at his feet, “It’s to do with, err down there, you know?” He nodded his head in the direction of the floor.

  Charlotte blushed redder, “Oh, I see. Well I wouldn’t worry about it, I’m sure it’s fine.”

  “I think so,” he confirmed, “It’s just that I met a woman who didn’t, hence the flowers,” he let out a little laugh and looked at Charlotte, “Anyway she’s history now.”

  Charlotte decided this man needed confirmation that not all women were like that. She wanted him to know that he shouldn’t be ashamed of anything he had.

  She looked at him, “Not all of us are the same, I wouldn’t care what size a man was if I liked him. My last boyfriend wasn’t very big but that was never an issue in the slightest. Those types of women need to be avoided.”

  He stared at her and laughed, “No, “he said, “You’ve got it wrong, it’s the opposite problem for me, it’s too big.”

  Charlotte blushed even harder. Her cheeks burned and she knew he would notice. “Oh right, errm, I didn’t know that could even be a problem.”

  She wanted this conversation to be over. She was blushing and making a fool of herself in front of this good looking man who was telling her about his penis size.

  “It can be,” he explained, warming to the subject, “Women are just built differently I think. Some love it and some hate it. Most love it though.”

  Charlotte could have sworn he winked at her.

  “I see,” she said, “Well that’s good then.”

  She didn’t know what else to say, she was horrified at the direction the conversation was taking, and a little embarrassed to admit that she had butterflies in her stomach. The type of butterflies that ac
companied wet panties.

  “How big is it?” she blurted out, lifting her hand to her mouth in an attempt to stop the words, “Oh my God, I’m so sorry,” she gasped, “I really am, you don’t need to tell me!”

  “Don’t worry,” he said, “Honestly, it’s OK,” he looked at charlotte and she blushed again, “It’s nearly ten inches long when it’s ready for action. If you know what I mean.”

  He definitely winked this time.

  “Very thick too,” he continued, “The length doesn’t seem to be the problem, it’s the girth that some women can’t take. It just stretches them too much.”

  Charlotte’s mouth was dry. She glanced down at the counter and snatched a look at the built in ruler she used to measure the ribbons for bouquets. Ten inches was immensely long. Most men she had been with were between six and seven at a guess.

  She felt a wetness between her thighs and her nipples stiffened. Images of big fat cocks filled her mind. She needed to get him out of the shop so she could have a cup of coffee and get this surreal experience over and done with.

  “Well that could be a problem, I suppose,” she said, “Well it was nice meeting you, erm,” she searched her memory for the name he had put on the message, “Jason.”

  “Yes you too, Charlotte I assume?” His gaze directly above her cleavage, looking at the shop name on her apron.

  “Yes that’s right,” she glanced down at her computer screen, “Well, I’ve got to get on.”

  Jason smiled, “Ok, have a nice day Charlotte.”

  “Yes you too,” she replied, “Thanks for your custom.”

  He turned and headed for the door, “Thank you!”