by Mac Flynn
Soon his speed was too fast for her to keep up, so Tiffany grabbed his shoulders and clutched herself against his slick body. Her back arched and she panted for breath. A delicious twinge of pleasure rose up between her legs. He wrapped his arms around her, and pushed fast, hard and deep into her warm core. Each push rubbed against her nub, and the wave after wave of sensual titillation nearly drove her mad. She leaned up and flicked her tongue against his ear. He groaned his approval and his pleasure sent a thrill down her spine.
"Faster," she hoarsely whispered into his ear. "Oh please god, faster."
His eyes shot wide open and he grunted in reply. Her partner was more than glad to agree to her plea and the stirrings between her legs increased tenfold. She writhed and squirmed beneath his grasp, and he finally pinned her tightly to the bed. Then she felt it, the wave of pleasure washing over her. Her eyes opened and she let out her cries.
"Yes! Yes! Oh god, yes!"
Her tight walls clasped onto him and pulled him in with her. Every muscle in his body tightened. Once, twice, and then he spilled himself into her warm depths. Then he collapsed on top of her and for some minutes the only noise in the room was their loud breathing. Tiffany finally had to peek over his heavy shoulder and tap him on the shoulder.
"You're kind of squishing me," she squeaked out.
"Oh, sorry," Bob sheepishly replied. He rolled off of her, but that didn't mean she let him go. Instead she wrapped herself against his side and enjoyed the heat of his body. After he caught his breath, Bob reached up and ran his fingers through her long hair. She purred and snuggled closer.
"That was really good," Tiffany complimented. He nodded his head.
"Yeah. Can't remember a better one," he agreed. His brow furrowed and he glanced down at her. "Speaking of that, do you mind telling me what got you into this mood?" He had a feeling he already knew the answer, but he wanted a second opinion.
"I think it was those delicious chocolates," she sleepily replied. At the memory of them she rubbed herself up against his side. If he wasn't so out of practice he would have gone again, but even now he felt those unused muscles aching. "You should get some more."
"Yeah, wouldn't be a bad idea," he agreed.
Then they slept, each with their arms wrapped around the other. Though past arguments couldn't so easily be forgotten, they both had a feeling this would be the restart of a beautiful relationship.
The next day Mr. Eres looked like he expected Bob when the young man came into the store. The shopkeeper leaned over the counter and smiled at the man's bright face. Bob's step was quicker and he strode over to the counter with a confident air.
"What can I do for you today, sir?" Eres pleasantly asked his returning customer.
"I was wondering about those cupcakes you gave me yesterday," Bob replied. "What's in them?" There was a twinkle in the old man's eyes, but he just shrugged.
"Just the natural ingredients that go into every sweet in my shop. A little flour, some sugar, chocolate, and a lot of love." Bob glanced around to make sure they were alone, and also dropped his voice to a whisper.
"So you didn't, um, spike the stuff? You know, with aphrodisiacs or hormones or something like that?" he asked the shop keeper. Eres pulled back and wrinkled his nose.
"Heavens, no. None of that stuff here. Just the basics." Bob could see he was treading on thin ice with insulting the proud sweets maker. Bob swore the whole store grew darker and the air became harder to breath.
"Oh, well, then how many of those cupcakes do you have and how long do they last?" That question got Eres smiling again, and the dark, suffocating feeling vanished in an instant. Eres leaned back over the counter and gave the other man a wink.
"Oh, I'd say I have about two dozen in the back, and they last as long as you need them," Eres answered him. Bob pulled out his credit card and plopped it down on the counter.
"I'll take everything you have, and be back when we run out."
Mr. Eres took the card and rang it up on the cash register. His smile widened when he thought of the happy new customers he now had, and the many pleasurable hours they would enjoy because of his cupcakes.
"What do you mean you didn't ask her out?"
The questioner was a man of fifty-five who went by the name of Ryan Dotson. The question was directed at his shy son, Brandon, a freshman in college who was having the kind of trouble that was typical for men. Girl trouble. More specifically, Brandon liked one enough to tell his dad about her and then came the onslaught of questions.
"I hardly know her, Dad," Brandon argued. They were in his room having this discussion, so thankfully his mom couldn't butt in with her own advice. If his dad proved to be less than helpful, she was Plan B. "We just have a few classes together and talked only a few times. I hardly know her name."
"That's a good place to start, though not necessarily the first place," his dad replied. That answer earned an eye-rolling from his less free-loving son.
"Come on, Dad, I'm trying to be serious here."
"So am I," Ryan countered. "You don't have to know the girl's name to sleep with her." Brandon leaned his head down and face-palmed his forehead. "What? You think your mom was the first one for me?"
"I really don't want to hear about your youth, Dad. I just need to know how I'm supposed to ask a girl out on a date."
"Well, for starters you were supposed to learn this in high school," his parent pointed out. "That definitely would've helped in college."
"None of the girls were that interesting in high school, but this one-this one's, I don't know, different," Brandon replied. His father patted him on the shoulder and stoically nodded his head.
"They all are, son, but that's just until you get to know them. Then you can't run fast enough to the next pair of silky white arms." Brandon glared at his dad and then pointed at the door.
"I think I'll go ask mom about this. You can leave," he ordered his father. Ryan stood up with a fake expression of insult on his face.
"Fine, go to the woman, but I guarantee she won't be of much help."
Brandon found his mother, Miriam, at the sink making dinner. Though he was in college, the campus was close enough he could continue to room and board at home.
"Mom, I need your advice," Brandon begged his more serious parent. She turned around with that kind smile on her face and nodded at the kitchen table. His mom didn't speak much because she believed words shouldn't be wasted, but he understood her gestures enough to see she was interested. He sat down in one of the chairs and winced when his wallet dug into his rear. He pulled it out and twirled it around on the table. "It's...well, it's about a girl." That got her to stop making dinner and fully turn around.
"Really?" she asked him, and he nodded.
"Yeah. She's in a few of my classes and, well, I want to ask her out but I don't know her very well. How do I do that?" Miriam stepped away from the sink and joined him at the kitchen table.
"Sounds serious," she replied. "Is she pretty?"
"Yeah, really pretty, but I bet that means she's got a boyfriend, doesn't it?" His mom smiled and shook her head.
"Maybe she's as shy as you are," his parent pointed out. "What's her name?"
"Vanessa Holbrook. We've talked a few times in group discussions, but I haven't tried talking with her anywhere else."
"Have you thought of giving her a gift? Maybe she'd like a rose or some chocolates," his mom suggested.
"Yeah, but that means I'd have to talk with her and find out what she likes. If I'm going to talk with her then I might as well just ask her out." Brandon sighed and stretched himself out on the table. He'd always had difficulties with talking to people, especially girls, and he'd hoped going to college would allow him to start over. Fewer people would know him there and he could make a new identity for himself, something cooler and more confident. Instead he was the same old scaredy-cat with the same old problems.
"If you've been watching this young lady long enough then haven't you seen her wi
th some sort of sweets?" his parent asked him. Brandon furrowed his brow and then shot up from the table. He snapped his fingers and his face lit up with a wide smile.
"You know what, I did see her with a cookie the other day!" he told his mom. "I think it was chocolate chip because she complained to her friend about the chocolate dripping all over her fingers." His mom smiled at his ecstatic tone. "Where's that shop Dad keeps talking about? The one that has all the really great candy in it?"
"It's on-" Miriam began.
"Wait, I remember. Downtown between those two bakeries." Brandon checked his watch and saw the time was twenty minutes past four o'clock. If the shop kept regular hours then he'd get there with plenty of time to grab some cookies. He scampered out of the kitchen, but peeked his head back inside to grin at his parent who still sat at the kitchen table. "Thanks, Mom!" Then he disappeared behind the wall and she heard his feet pound across the floor to the front door.
"Just don't be too late! Dinner will be ready in an hour!" she called back to him. The door shut without a reply and she shook her head. Her eyes caught something on the table where he'd sat, and she let out a gasp. His wallet sat there, forgotten but so necessary.
Miriam grabbed the wallet and zoomed through the house. By the time she got outside and onto the sidewalk, her fast son was nowhere to be seen. She sighed and shook her head. He would come back empty-handed and have to go tomorrow for the cookies. Miriam only hoped he would still have the courage to make the trip twice. Brandon's mom retreated back into the house and found her husband with his head in the fridge.
"Supper will be ready soon enough," she scolded her older 'child.'
Mr. Dotson straightened and gave his wife a sheepish grin. "I was just getting something to drink, I swear."
"I'm sure you were," Miriam sarcastically agreed.
Her husband looked down and noticed the wallet in her hands. "Isn't that Brandon's?"
She lifted the wallet to eye-level and sighed. "Yes, I'm afraid it is. He left it behind on his way to that sweet shop you spoke about."
Ryan's eyebrows raised and a mischievous grin spread across his lips. "Really? So he's gone there for help?" He rubbed his chin with one hand and slowly nodded his head. "This may be just the thing he needs to finally grow a backbone and get laid."
"Must it always be about sex? Maybe this girl is nice and smart," his wife pointed out. She set the wallet on the table and returned to the sink.
Her husband slyly followed her and wrapped his arms around her waist. He leaned in and breathed against her neck, which sent a shiver down her back. "Haven't you read all those studies? Sex is supposed to be healthy for a relationship."
Miriam turned around in his arms and playfully kissed his lips. His eyes widened at her next few words. "Should we try that out?" she teased.
While his parents were getting amorous with one another, Brandon was far down the street. Their house was a few blocks from downtown, and then he had to travel deep inside the commercial district to find the sweet shop. The trip took a little longer than he expected because of foot and vehicle traffic, so he got there with only ten minutes to spare. He was glad to see the door was still propped open and there was a customer inside talking to a man behind the counter. With the sign reading Mr. Eres' Sensual Sweets, he assumed the old guy was Eres. The customer he was talking to was a man of about twenty-five who had a pink box in front of him.
"You know, Tiffany won't stop bothering me about getting this recipe from you," the man told Eres. "Even with the baby due any day, she's threatened to leave the house and come down here to ask you herself." Eres was all smiles, but unmoved.
"I am nothing without my recipes, so if I were to give them away I would become nothing," Eres replied.
Brandon wasn't too interested in the rest of the conversation. Instead his eyes were on the shelves of confections around the store. He saw the cookies were at the counter right beneath where the two men were standing, so he may as well look around while he waited for the other man to leave. The place was pretty interesting, and as he wandered to the back he wondered how the shop owner was able to move all this food before it spoiled. Not even candy lasted forever.
Coincidentally, Brandon was studying to be a chemistry major and cooking was a subset of the whole field. The mixing of ingredients to create something new fascinated him, and he wondered at the sheer variety of concoctions spread out before him. The man couldn't have made all of these candies and confections in this small place. The sheer amount of ingredients necessary for such a variety would have needed a building at least twice this size just for the kitchen, and he was sure the building wasn't that big in the back.
"Admiring my handiwork?" a voice asked just behind him. Brandon jumped and swirled around to find Mr. Eres a few feet from him.
"Oh, yeah, I was just, um, just looking," Brandon stuttered out. "This is a lot of stuff for a small store." The old man's eyes twinkled and he slowly nodded his head.
"Yes, quite a variety, but that means a customer is bound to find something they like."
"Did you make all this stuff here or is some of it shipped in?" the young man asked the shop keep. Eres chuckled.
"You wouldn't believe how often I have to answer that question. Once or twice a day from the new customers," Eres replied.
"And what's the answer?" Brandon prodded. His curiosity needed to be quenched. The young man was surprised when Eres raised his two wrinkled old hands.
"These old things make everything you see, down to the last pull of taffy," Eres told him. Brandon blinked, glanced around them, and then returned his attention back to Eres.
"How in the world do you do that? There's like twelve hundred different items in here. No one man can make them all before they start to spoil."
"A very good guess, young man. There are twelve hundred and thirteen different items in here," Eres replied. Brandon was too amazed to feel complimented. "And they were all made by me, and I expect to make a new batch of everything at least once a week." Brandon thought that surely the man had to have help of some kind for such an endeavor.
"Do you have machines in the back room that help you? How many different types of ingredients do you use? Where do you store them?" Eres only smiled and shook his head.
"I admire your curiosity, young sir, but those are trade secrets. If I were to tell you just what went on back there then I'm sure you'd set up a rival shop and drive me out of business," Eres teased him. Brandon was taken aback by the man's suggestion about starting a business.
"I-I don't think I'm really cut out for running my own place-"
"Nonsense. You're a spry enough boy, and very smart. I've never had such a barrage of detailed questions as you just presented to me. I'm sure with a little push you would be a very successful shop owner."
"Um, maybe." Brandon checked his watch and noticed it was five o'clock. He had no idea when this place closed, but it was probably soon. "But I was wondering if I could buy some chocolate chip cookies. My, um, my girlfriend really likes them."
"Your girlfriend?" Eres repeated. He intently stared at the young man, and Brandon squirmed beneath that steady, penetrating gaze.
"Well, she's not my girlfriend-yet. I thought maybe if I got her some cookies she'd go out with me."
"So you're wooing the young lady with sweets? A very old-fashioned idea, but it still works." The old man cupped his chin in one hand and gazed around the shelves. "But don't you young folks look for something a little different than chocolate chip cookies?"
"Well, I saw her with some so I figured I'd buy those," Brandon explained to him. He shuffled his way around the shop owner and toward the counter where he knew they lay. "So I'll just pick some out and leave. My mom's getting dinner ready and she told me not to be late."
"A moment, young fellow. Perhaps your lady friend would like something a little more original," Eres insisted. His eyes scanned the shelves and then they lit up. He reached up with one hand and grasped a small box. Brandon c
ould see it was labeled as fortune cookies. Eres turned to him and proudly presented the young man with the box. "I believe these are popular with the youth right now. The fortunes are very amusing and the cookie is very tasty." Brandon furrowed his brow.
"I don't think that's quite what I'm looking for," he argued. "Maybe I'll just take those cookies-ooph." Brandon was interrupted when Eres cheerfully shoved the box into his gut. He grasped onto the box and scowled at the pushy shopkeeper. "What is this? This box cost a fortune or something?"
"Less than the cookies, which I believe you may have trouble buying with the money on your person," Eres answered. Brandon blinked, and then his mouth fell open in horror. He patted the rear pocket of his pants and realized his wallet was still on the kitchen table. Eres tapped the top of the box. "This is on the house, and I guarantee this will definitely get her attention." Brandon's shoulders drooped in disappointment.
"But couldn't I have just one chocolate chip cookie on the house instead?" he pleaded, but Eres firmly shook his head.
"Try the box. I guarantee you'll be pleasantly surprised." Brandon sighed and nodded his head.
"Aright, well, thanks for the cookies," the young man morosely replied. Eres patted Brandon on the shoulder and turned the young man toward the front of the building. When they reached the open front door, the shop owner stopped them and nodded at the box.
"There is one thing I must insist for these cookies," he told Brandon. "Each fortune must be chosen by the person. Don't let anyone pick a cookie for anyone else." The request confused Brandon.
"Is there something wrong with the cookies or something?"
"No, but one should choose their own fortune," Eres insisted. Then he gave the young man a push and Brandon stumbled out the door, down the steps and onto the sidewalk. Eres waved at him as though he hadn't just tried to break his neck. "Happy fortune to you and your young miss."
Brandon frowned and went on his way. He wasn't sure if he had succeeded in his endeavor or not, but at least he had something to show for his efforts. Away from the eccentric shop owner, Brandon twisted and turned the box over in his hands. It was a normal rectangular box with just the few simple words Fortune Cookies written on the front with the number twelve in the lower right-hand corner. At least he had plenty of cookies to give to Vanessa, even if they were going to be this strange.