Rye’s
lips for her to sip then drank from the same spot herself. Being with Flora felt
so right and natural. This could not be wrong.
“What are you thinking?” Flora asked.
“That you’re the sexiest thing on two legs.”
Flora smiled. “You find creatures with more legs sexier?”
Rye tickled Flora until she threatened to dump the contents of the wine glass on
her head.
“Can I fly you home from work on Fourth Day?” Flora stroked Rye’s neck and
shoulders. “In rush hour traffic, that should give us a good three quarters of
an hour of hand-holding and quick, steamy kisses. That might just keep me from
exploding with sexual frustration until next Fifth Day.”
“Yes, please.”
Rye ran her hands along Flora’s thighs, hips, and around to her buttocks. Warm,
fascinating curves. So smooth. So perfect. How was it possible to be awed by
Flora and yet, at the same time, feel completely comfortable with her?
“You’ve got the most adorable look on your face.” Flora said. “What are you
thinking?”
“How amazing you are. By the way, not this Fourth Night or the next, but the one
after, I have it off. The school is closed for some holiday. Holly is going to a
birthday party.” Rye ran her hands up Flora’s back. “So, how about you and me
planning a hot evening together?”
“Fourth Night? I can’t. I’m hosting a duty dinner.” Flora grimaced. “Branch,
Trunk, and Root, it would have to be the one engagement I can’t cancel or shift.
These are people it’s important for me to be nice to, but who otherwise might
not be within my closest social orbit. My agent. A couple of gallery owners. The
curator of a private museum. You could come.”
“Um. I don’t think I’d have any place with them.”
“I don’t blame you,” Flora said. “I’d rather not do it myself. I think I’m
repressing it. I haven’t even arranged a caterer yet. We could end up eating
takeaway from Lowood’s Mushroom House. That would boost my reputation, don’t you
think?”
“It would get you talked about.”
Flora smiled and gently stroked Rye’s wing support.
“Oh, Elm, I suppose I –” Flora’s fingers stilled. “Rye? If I wanted an enormous
favour from you, would I be better reminding you of an incident for which you
still owe me an apology, or promising sexual favours?”
“Sex. What do you want?”
“Cook for me. Please.”
“Sure. Do you actually have any food in the house?”
“I don’t mean now,” Flora said. “My dinner party.”
Rye stared, aghast. “What?”
Flora set her glass aside and looped her arms around Rye’s neck. “You could do
that divine ferret dish again. Those acorns! My mouth has wet dreams about them.
Although, I think one or two are vegetarian. I’ll check. Please, lover. Say you
will.”
Rye shook her head. “You need a real cook.”
“You are a real cook. But no maple malt sauce. I couldn’t possibly sit in the
same room with Windy Hempweed and have memories of you licking maple malt sauce
off my breasts.”
Rye grinned.
“Please,” Flora said. “It’ll be a proper business deal. I’ll pay you twelve
hundred pieces.”
“Fey.” That was as much as she earned at the building site in a month.
“It’s what I paid the last time. Dinner for six. Four courses and nibbles
beforehand.”
“Over a thousand pieces?” Rye said. “Just for cooking dinner?”
“You’ll have to buy all the food. And pay for someone to help serve. I bet Holly
would do it.”
“She’s going to a birthday party.”
“I bet she won’t if you tell her that Privet Thunder is one of my guests. He’s
only the top of her wish list for apprenticeship teachers. It would do her no
harm at all to become a name and face to some of my guests.”
“That’s not fair.”
Flora smiled. She wriggled closer, so that their breasts touched, and began
stroking Rye’s wing support. Flora’s other hand stroked Rye’s hair, teased the
nape of her neck, then ran down toward
lips for her to sip then drank from the same spot herself. Being with Flora felt
so right and natural. This could not be wrong.
“What are you thinking?” Flora asked.
“That you’re the sexiest thing on two legs.”
Flora smiled. “You find creatures with more legs sexier?”
Rye tickled Flora until she threatened to dump the contents of the wine glass on
her head.
“Can I fly you home from work on Fourth Day?” Flora stroked Rye’s neck and
shoulders. “In rush hour traffic, that should give us a good three quarters of
an hour of hand-holding and quick, steamy kisses. That might just keep me from
exploding with sexual frustration until next Fifth Day.”
“Yes, please.”
Rye ran her hands along Flora’s thighs, hips, and around to her buttocks. Warm,
fascinating curves. So smooth. So perfect. How was it possible to be awed by
Flora and yet, at the same time, feel completely comfortable with her?
“You’ve got the most adorable look on your face.” Flora said. “What are you
thinking?”
“How amazing you are. By the way, not this Fourth Night or the next, but the one
after, I have it off. The school is closed for some holiday. Holly is going to a
birthday party.” Rye ran her hands up Flora’s back. “So, how about you and me
planning a hot evening together?”
“Fourth Night? I can’t. I’m hosting a duty dinner.” Flora grimaced. “Branch,
Trunk, and Root, it would have to be the one engagement I can’t cancel or shift.
These are people it’s important for me to be nice to, but who otherwise might
not be within my closest social orbit. My agent. A couple of gallery owners. The
curator of a private museum. You could come.”
“Um. I don’t think I’d have any place with them.”
“I don’t blame you,” Flora said. “I’d rather not do it myself. I think I’m
repressing it. I haven’t even arranged a caterer yet. We could end up eating
takeaway from Lowood’s Mushroom House. That would boost my reputation, don’t you
think?”
“It would get you talked about.”
Flora smiled and gently stroked Rye’s wing support.
“Oh, Elm, I suppose I –” Flora’s fingers stilled. “Rye? If I wanted an enormous
favour from you, would I be better reminding you of an incident for which you
still owe me an apology, or promising sexual favours?”
“Sex. What do you want?”
“Cook for me. Please.”
“Sure. Do you actually have any food in the house?”
“I don’t mean now,” Flora said. “My dinner party.”
Rye stared, aghast. “What?”
Flora set her glass aside and looped her arms around Rye’s neck. “You could do
that divine ferret dish again. Those acorns! My mouth has wet dreams about them.
Although, I think one or two are vegetarian. I’ll check. Please, lover. Say you
will.”
Rye shook her head. “You need a real cook.”
“You are a real cook. But no maple malt sauce. I couldn’t possibly sit in the
same room with Windy Hempweed and have memories of you licking maple malt sauce
off my breasts.”
Rye grinned.
“Please,” Flora said. “It’ll be a proper business deal. I’ll pay you twelve
hundred pieces.”
“Fey.” That was as much as she earned at the building site in a month.
“It’s what I paid the last time. Dinner for six. Four courses and nibbles
beforehand.”
“Over a thousand pieces?” Rye said. “Just for cooking dinner?”
“You’ll have to buy all the food. And pay for someone to help serve. I bet Holly
would do it.”
“She’s going to a birthday party.”
“I bet she won’t if you tell her that Privet Thunder is one of my guests. He’s
only the top of her wish list for apprenticeship teachers. It would do her no
harm at all to become a name and face to some of my guests.”
“That’s not fair.”
Flora smiled. She wriggled closer, so that their breasts touched, and began
stroking Rye’s wing support. Flora’s other hand stroked Rye’s hair, teased the
nape of her neck, then ran down toward
Similar Books
