Spice & Thyme Series

GINNY

“Come on, Persephone. Time to go home.”

This time, she leaped from the cabinet top to a table to the floor, barely making a sound.

I kicked my sandals off and strode to the kitchen barefoot. While I reached into the cabinet for her supper, Persephone looped the infinity symbol around and through my ankles.

“So, what did you think of Matt?” I asked the cat. I didn’t wait for her reply and answered for her, “Me too. Arrogant, fine-ass fuck, huh?”

Persephone didn’t care, but she didn’t tell me to shut up either, so I continued my litany.

“I mean, you would think he would be gracious and pleasant like his sister. But come on, Voodoo University? He sounded like a complete asshole. Don’t you think? I mean, why do I even care?”

Why did I care? I pondered on that while I placed the small ceramic bowl on the floor, rinsed the can, and chucked it into the recycle basket.

It wasn’t because he was a smart ass. Lord knows I’d had my fair share of them since I opened, but they seldom bothered me other than the weariness I felt, probably because they reminded me of Jason.

Like him, I found their tunnel vision humorous more often than not. So why did I care what Matt thought? Besides the fact that he was a fine specimen of a man, what else was there?

I knew he was a bit of a playboy just from browsing his social media. Not really my type. But if Jason was my type, maybe it was the drastic contrast.

Jason was fair-skinned with light hair, compared to Mr. Chocolate whom I’d like to take a bite of.

Speaking of chocolate, I poured a hefty glass of chocolate-flavored wine, both for the taste and the nice alcohol content. I guess chocolate was the flavor of the day.

For a split second, I intended to leave the bottle and only bring the glass upstairs, but then up I went, bottle in one hand, glass in another.

“Why do I care?” I asked again. I pushed the bathroom door open with my toes and plunked the wine bottle onto a table I kept within arm’s reach of the tub.

I guzzled a quarter of the glass’s content before I looked in the mirror, seeing more of a silhouette than a reflection.

Thirty was approaching fast, but I was confident that the coming decade would be better than the last. My outline in the mirror showed a petite, curvy woman with a thick head of lion mane.

I twisted and turned, wondering which angle would have presented best to Matt. Seriously though? The man could have any gorgeous younger woman. Why would he even look at me like that?

But still, there was something there between us. I was certain of it.

Wasn’t I?

I disrobed and continued to watch my silhouette. Matt might have been a bit of an ass, but catching him staring at me got me to wondering what he saw.

Jason had done little to make me feel sexy, but that one stare from Matt had my blood pumping in all directions. Maybe I was as sexy as I felt in that moment.

The hallway light spilled into the bathroom, but it gave little help in seeing. I went about lighting the eleven candles I kept on the tiled border I had built around the deep, old, enamel-clad cast-iron tub.

“You know why you care? Cause you want to fuck him and it would be nice if he felt the same way.” My sigh was so rushed and audible that I felt silly.

“Of course I want to fuck him. Probably every straight woman and every gay man wants to fuck him. So what? Doesn’t mean it’s going to happen.”

The voice in my head, which apparently was the same voice talking aloud, was too damn realistic sometimes.

I started the water, turning the knobs on autopilot to the exact spots they would produce the best temperature.

I added a few drops of my self-created milk-and-honey wash and watched as the bubbles began building atop each other.

“Besides, you’ve got sex on the brain.”

The smell of the candles permeated the air—another self-creation. They smelled of a sultry Savannah one-night stand.

Considering that night ended up in a tub very similar to mine, it was befitting I scented my candles to match his cologne.

Hey, if you’re going to enjoy a bath, might as well indulge to the fullest extent possible. Maybe I should fantasize about Savannah Man and let Matt the Mystery Man go?

Besides, Savannah Man was real, not just a fantasy. There had been a lot of booze involved with that night, enough to make him sexier than he really was, but he did know how to have fun in a tub.

Immediately my mind wondered what Matt and I would be like in a bathtub full of warm water and suds. It wouldn’t hurt anybody if I just fantasized, right?

In reality Matt might not be attracted to a makeup-less hippie type, but Mystery Man Matt would find her a turn-on.

In my mind, he wanted me as much as I wanted him. Wanted him to praise me and my accomplishments. Wanted him to touch me. To kiss me. To consume me.

I lowered myself into the tub and turned off the running water. The suds rose up, obscuring my body, but Mystery Man Matt pushed the bubbles away in his desire to look at me naked.

His eyes were filled with lust and his hands were hungry to touch my flesh. I sank deeper into the tub and spread my thighs slightly so his hand could find how hot I was for him. I closed my eyes.

To have him caress me where I was now throbbing? I heard a deep inhale before I realized my own breath was quickening.

For a split second, guilt struck me. I was fantasizing about Alisha’s brother. Did that make me a bad friend? It hadn’t before, so what was different?

He was no longer out of reach. He was in my store. He had stood before me. Even the last few times I’d had sex with Jason, I had dreamed I was in the arms of Matt, my midnight fantasy man.

It’d taken all the energy I had not to whisper his name. Not to scream his name.

But now that I had met him, knew him to be a dick, an arrogant asshole, why was he even more alluring, tempting? And my friend’s brother? There had to be something wrong with me.

Never in a million years would I want him to know I could see the two of us sliding in the water toward each other, me touching his rippled biceps and shoulders.

To see his wet hair slicked back. To feel his erection grazing my thigh as he pulled me closer.

Guilt be damned, I guess.

I was hungry for an orgasm. It had been too long since I’d felt such pleasure, and if I had to give it to myself, so be it. My fingers found that I was indeed hot and engorged in anticipation.

Imagining it was Matt pushing his fingers between my wet thighs, not me, roused a deep moan. I could hear him confessing his passion and desire. He too had fantasies about me after seeing my picture.

He leaned toward me and his hot breath grazed my ear. “I have dreamed about fucking you.”

Although it was a fantasy, it was so real, so vivid. He hadn’t even fucked me yet and I was coming, the deep-seated orgasm rolling through my channel, my hips rising from the bottom of the tub.

Even Fantasy Matt was more sensual than Jason had ever been. Jason was concerned about his own orgasms. My fantasy man was concerned about my orgasms.

And in that tub, I had more than one.

Good Lord, I was going to sleep well tonight.