Bliss

by Hilary Fields

  And then he’d mocked her.

  Frigid. Hopeless. Deadweight. Those were just a few of the taunts he’d hurled at her during the time they had dated. He’d made her feel she was lucky he even tolerated her presence in his bed, given what a lousy lay she was. But in hindsight, Sera had to wonder—who’d really been the one with sexual shortcomings? Hadn’t it been Blake who was impatient and selfish? She’d tried her best, but after a time she’d come to realize he actually preferred it when she lay there like a dutiful fifties housewife, letting Blake take, as he put it, “what little satisfaction he could.” That way, she realized, he could concentrate on what Blake liked best—Blake.

  The part that shamed her, to this day, was how long she’d let him.

  She’d let Blake make her feel fearful, inadequate. But tonight, with Asher, she felt neither. What she felt like was grabbing her date’s nice button-down shirt and rending it open in one great rip.

  So she did.

  Or tried anyway.

  The first button popped off easily enough, but the rest, well… “Whoever sewed these on must have had serious OCD,” she muttered, yanking futilely at the fabric.

  Asher laughed and laid his hands over hers to still her pillaging. “Slow down, Bliss,” he said. “We have all night.”

  “You don’t have to treat me like some delicate virgin, you know,” Sera said. “It’s very gallant, Asher, but right now…” She trailed off, eyeing him with a sidelong smile.

  “Right now?” he asked. He ran one finger down the V of her dress’s neckline and watched the goose bumps rise in its wake.

  Sera could see his chest rising and falling rapidly, sensed his barely leashed energy even as she inhaled that uniquely Asher smell—hot metal, rampant male. She felt intoxicated; drunk with delight, with anticipation, with giddy knowledge that this delicious man wanted to be her lover as much as she wanted to be his. He’d primed her past the point of performance anxiety, and now she wanted only to feel his naked skin against hers, his heat and desire matching hers.

  “Right now… I’d rather you ravished me senseless.” She backed him up against the bed with hands on his chest and a predatory leer. “And be warned, Asher… if you won’t, I will.”

  He would.

  * * *

  As it happened, Sera did have a visitation just as she was approaching the much-anticipated moment of her bliss. As Asher carried her ever closer to the edge, doing extraordinary things with his talented craftsman’s fingers even as his body, so hot and sensual atop hers, drove her nearly mindless with desire, Sera saw a vision coalescing behind her closed eyes.

  Please, not Pauline, she thought. Don’t let anything ruin this… this… oh, God, what did he just do with his tongue, that ought to be illegal… Please, just let this happen, I can’t believe how good this feels, oh… oh, wow, there’s no way a man ought to be able to… holy wow…

  But what swam into focus as Sera soared close to climax wasn’t her aunt.

  It was purple. It was petite. And… it was wearing what was undeniably a rhinestone-studded cowboy hat.

  Hey! It’s my armadillo! Sera marveled.

  It nodded at her, tipping its hat.

  “Gesundheit,” it said.

  And Sera’s world changed forever.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  You’ve made Pauline a happy woman,” Sera said, rolling over atop her lover and planting a kiss on his smiling lips.

  Asher, quite naked and quite obviously glad to be smothered in a blanket of Bliss, chuckled as he reciprocated. “Pauline, eh?” he said. “And what about the younger Miss Wilde?” He nudged her suggestively with his hips.

  “She’s living up to her name, for once,” said Sera.

  “Wilde or Bliss?” he teased.

  “Both.” She giggled, wriggling playfully.

  “Don’t start that up, my lovely one, or Pauline may overdose,” Asher warned.

  “Oh, I think the old gal’s earned a reward,” Sera murmured. “Let’s see how happy you can make her…”

  But Pauline had nothing to do with what came next—and what had already come (three times!) during one unbelievably blissful night.

  * * *

  An hour later, staring into the predawn sky through Asher’s bedroom skylight, Serafina began to contemplate baked goods. Malcolm had first shift, and Pauline had promised to overcome her antipathy for the pie maven and help him open the store, but Sera didn’t like to leave them alone together for too long. Besides, she had cupcakes, cookies, and tarts to create.

  “Not to reverse a cliché, Asher, but I should probably sneak out in a few minutes,” she said with regret. “I’ve got to get baking pretty soon.”

  His arms tightened around her, pinning her to his side in a manner that was not at all unpleasant. “Wait, please, Bliss. Before you go, there’s something I need to know.” He looked a bit chagrined. “I don’t quite know how to ask this without sounding like a heel.”

  Sera was intrigued. “Give it a whirl,” she said, snuggling close with her head pillowed on his shoulder. She studied the uncomfortable expression that stamped his strong features, loving how she was learning to read his emotions. “I’ve handled a few heels in my time.”

  “Bliss…” He paused, squeezed his eyes shut as though his own words pained him. “Oy gevalt,” he muttered. “I can’t believe I’m going to ask this, but after what you told me about your troubles with your… well, with your previous attempts at intimacy… I wanted to be sure… that is…” He visibly pulled himself together and just blurted it out. “Bliss, was it good for you?”

  Sera paused a beat.

  “Honestly, I don’t know what all the fuss is about,” she deadpanned, then burst out laughing when she saw the look on Asher’s face.

  Asher growled, tickling her sides mercilessly until she shrieked.

  When she could breathe again, Sera stretched up and kissed his chin, mirth fading from her eyes. “Asher, ‘good’ doesn’t even begin to describe how I feel. You’ve given me a gift—one I won’t ever forget. You’ve… I don’t know… freed me, I guess. And it feels amazing.”

  Asher looked pleased with himself. He stroked one finger along her spine, sending thrills down Sera’s back and all the way down to her toes. “You have freed me as well. I was frozen in the past for such a long time, but now I’m very much looking forward to my future. And…” He looked uncertain. “I know it’s probably too soon to speak of such things, but… Bliss, I very much hope you will be a part of that future.”

  If there was a better feeling than orgasm, Sera had just discovered it. Screw chocolate. Screw winning the lotto. This was the jackpot.

  “I am going to bake you such a babka,” was what she said.

  Chapter Thirty

  Monday evening after work, the Back Room Babes piled into Bliss, took one look at Sera, and shrieked with delight.

  “He’s done it!” howled Aruni.

  “That’s our boy!” squealed Syna.

  “Hurrah for the hot landlord!” Janice did a little dance, pumping her fists over her head.

  Pauline plopped down on one of the shop’s overstuffed armchairs, letting her minions settle about her with pastries and hot cups of joe. “I take complete credit, of course,” she said. Her smile was pure smug.

  Sera tried to take the ribbing with grace, topping off cups and handing out napkins for her friends as they made themselves at home in the shop. After all, for the past three days, she had spent every waking moment not otherwise occupied with hot ovens over at Asher’s house learning just how hot and steamy he could be. The BRBs weren’t the only ones who wanted to crow over Asher’s prowess. Sera just wanted to do her crowing privately. And she preferred to think of it as “expressing her passionate delight.” Decorously, of course. Never mind that she’d been expressing her delight so passionately since Friday night that Silver had taken to howling in solidarity from his kennel halfway across the house.

  “Everyone got what they nee
d?” she asked, scanning the women who’d been able to make it tonight. Bobbie, Syna, Janice, Aruni, Hortencia, and Pauline made a comfortable sextet (or sex-tête-à-tête, as Pauline had quipped) in the now-empty bakery. Sera was touched that, with only a phone call, so many of her new compadres had mobilized in her defense—and they didn’t even know what was up yet. Pauline had simply said Sera needed them, and they’d dropped everything. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d had a group of friends so fiercely loyal—even if they did insist on embarrassing the hell out of her.

  “We know y’all got what you need, mama!” Janice joked. “One look at your face, and I can tell you’re a changed woman.”

  “Yeah, sister, you glow.” This from Syna, who was beaming rather brightly herself.

  Sera suspected they were confusing “glow” with “mortified flush.”

  “Tell us everything, girl!” Aruni folded her legs lotus style, her slight figure barely making a dent in her armchair. “Was he gentle? Or did he go all Israeli commando on you once you hit the sheets?”

  Friedrich, who’d been polishing counters with a rag as he helped close up shop, dug his ear buds deeper into his red-tinged ears and spun the dial on his iPod until Sera could distinctly hear Wagner’s The Ring of the Nibelung leaking out. He kept his eyes downcast, but Sera caught him sneaking glances at Aruni. And though the yogini tried playing it cool, Sera definitely saw Aruni peek back at the barista from beneath her unruly curls when she thought no one was looking.

  A little young for her, but hey, Sera thought, smiling inwardly. The kid was reliable, diligent, and as far as she knew, not at all a putz like Aruni’s ex. Maybe mine’s not the only romance that could bloom around here, given a little attention. Hmm, maybe if I can get those two together, the BRBs will drop the topic of my love life…

  Sera perched gingerly on the edge of the coffee table around which the BRBs had gathered. Beads of sweat formed at her temples as she pictured Asher overhearing the Babes’ raunchy conversation. Things between them were so new, so extraordinary, she didn’t want to sully her memories of their time together with graphic girl-talk. “Guys, thanks for the vote of confidence, but, um, I’d really rather not go into our private business…”

  She clapped her hands over her ears against the wave of boos and hisses that washed over her.

  “All right, all right! Listen up, ladies,” Pauline hollered, waving a chocolate éclair like a conductor’s baton for silence. “Much as I regret my niece’s continuing reticence in all matters carnal, I didn’t call you over here to congratulate her on her initiation into the Big-O Society. Fact is, women, we are at war, and we must gird our loins for battle!” She bit off half the éclair in one ferocious bite. “Bls’s brstid e-byfred’s oofer bld, ah we gorra schtup ’m.”

  Blank looks met her pronouncement.

  Hortencia harrumphed, tossing a look of mild disgust at her partner. “What this glutton over here’s trying to say is, Sera’s rotten ex-boyfriend is in town, and he’s trying to ruin her life—and not for the first time. We’ve got to figure out how to stop him before he succeeds.”

  Pauline swallowed the bite of gooshy pastry, choking a bit. “Right. What Horsey said.”

  Sera handed her aunt a glass of water, addressing the ladies en masse. “It’s true,” she said glumly. “Blake’s back, and he’s up to his old tricks.” She explained, in as few words as possible, what Blake had done a year ago, and what he was up to now. “Anyhow,” she finished, “he’s here in Santa Fe and he’s already started the smear campaign.” She handed around a copy of the Chile Paper’s article. “So, if you guys have any ideas about what I should do, I’d love to hear them.”

  There was a silence as the four women who were new to the situation huddled close to one another to read. Hortencia and Pauline sat back, waiting for them to finish, while Sera rubbed her temples, where a headache was starting to set in. Asher was coming to pick her up in a little while, and she just wanted to forget what had happened with Blake last week and enjoy her lover’s company. Yet she knew she couldn’t let Blake’s perfidy gain momentum—the longer she let it lie, the more time he had to prepare his next salvo. She needed help, and the Back Room Babes were her greatest allies. They had deep roots in the community. They knew people; owned businesses, some of them. Hopefully, they’d be able to come up with some creative solutions to counteract Blake’s slurs before they could cut into Sera’s business.

  Or if it comes to that, there’s enough of us to tackle him in a dark alley, Sera thought darkly. Wonder if they’d be game for a little skullduggery?

  It didn’t take long for the BRBs to show how “game” they were.

  With claws extended, they tore the tabloid to shreds.

  “What a dick!” Aruni was incensed.

  “I’ll let my pet rat Rudy loose in his restaurant,” Janice vowed.

  “Let’s stage a protest outside and let everyone know what a bully he is,” Syna suggested. “I’ve still got a set of bongos left from the Occupy protests.”

  “String him up by the balls, is my vote,” Pauline growled. “I’ve got the twine all ready. The scratchy twine.”

  “I’ve told you a hundred times, Pauline, barbed wire’s much better in cases like these,” Hortencia argued as she fastidiously gathered up the shreds of newspaper. “Really gets caught in the—”

  A sharp, Gollum-like cough rattled the shop’s windows, announcing the arrival of Ms. Marnie Pyle.

  Six hours late, and less than excited to be there, if her expression was anything to go by. The reporter lethargically fished her notepad and digital recorder out of her messenger bag as she eased the front door shut behind her with one foot.

  That woman needs an enthusiasm transplant, STAT. “Guys, this is Marnie Pyle,” Sera said formally. “Since she wrote the, ah, profile on Blake’s new restaurant, as well as the original article on Bliss, we asked her to come over so we could address some of the issues Blake raised in his quotes.” Like how he basically called me a frigid hack who wasn’t qualified to serve snack cakes at a supermarket, let alone run my beautiful Bliss. “Marnie, thanks for coming. We expected you a bit earlier, or I would have had my friends come by another time.” Sera rose to shake the woman’s hand, trying not to shudder at the dead-fishiness of her grip.

  “Good lord, what’s wrong with her head?” Syna whispered to Aruni as she gawked at the skeletal newcomer. “It looks like one of my son’s Lego action figures!”

  Aruni shushed her, smothering a grin.

  The reporter barely acknowledged the other women. “Sorry,” Marnie muttered, retrieving her hand as though Sera’s were crawling with cooties. “I was hoping to catch you after hours. I didn’t realize you’d have company.”

  “We weren’t sure you’d make it,” Sera replied neutrally, “so we decided to go ahead and have our get-together.”

  “I can come back another time,” Marnie offered. Plainly, the prospect pained her.

  “Please stay,” Hortencia interjected, switching on the apple-cheeked charm. She turned to the BRBs, who were giving Marnie slitty-eyed stares. “Let’s make Miss Pyle welcome, shall we? She’s here to set the record straight about Blake’s recent remarks,” Hortencia reminded the women pointedly. “Isn’t that right?” Now her gaze skewered the reporter.

  Marnie cleared her perpetually clogged throat. “Well,” she demurred, “I’ll take Miss Wilde’s statement anyhow. I can’t promise we’ll publish anything. We’ve got very limited space each week, and we have to save it for original stories. If anything, Miss Wilde’s rebuttal might make a sidebar in the food section, but we’ll see.”

  Janice’s waitressing instincts kicked in. “Miz Pyle, take my seat, why don’cha,” she said, hopping up and dusting off her chair for the reporter. “I’ll just cop a squat over here.” She plunked her butt down on an ottoman a little out of the circle of women. “Unless… Serafina, you want us gals to leave so y’all can have your interview?”

  Pauline answere
d for her. “Women, you’re staying. I want Miss Pyle here to understand what my niece is up against, and to hear—in front of witnesses—just how she’s been slandered.”

  “Libeled,” muttered the reporter. “Nobody ever gets that. It’s libel when it’s in print—not that that’s what the Chile Paper did. We just quoted the chef’s remarks,” she grumbled. “We’re not responsible for their content.”

  With another dry cough, Marnie took the seat Janice had vacated and pulled out her digital recorder and pad. Aruni made way for Sera to sit across from the reporter, strolling with studied innocence to stand near where Friedrich had started bussing tables at the rear of the store. She struck a stretchy yoga pose that just happened to show off her lithe figure to good advantage, smiling sidelong at the barista until he blushed and busied himself with a tub of dirty cups and plates. On Sera’s left, Hortencia patted her knee comfortingly, while Pauline, on her right, chucked her on the shoulder, muttering, “Go get’r, Tiger!” far too loudly in Sera’s ear.

  “So,” Marnie said. “You wanted to respond to Chef Austin’s comments, Miss Wilde?”

  Shit. What am I gonna say, “Blake’s a big fat liar, waaah?” While that pretty much covered it, Sera didn’t think Lego-head would be any too impressed with the “he pushed me on the playground” defense. She should have been planning her rebuttal to Blake’s slander—excuse her, libel—all weekend, but she’d been a tad distracted by the man she’d fallen crazy in love with. Now was her chance to fight back, and she’d better grab it, prepared or not. Put on your big-girl panties, Serafina, she commanded herself. Say something dignified.

  Sera cleared her throat. “Well, yes, I—”

  “Hello, ladies,” called a voice from the front of the shop. “Hello, Friedrich.”

  All heads turned. Chins rose, bellies sucked themselves in, and hairdos found themselves fluffed.