She sits on the green at the top end of the garden, a plumb between her thumb and finger “What do you suppose possessed Mr Gordon, to deliver me a basket of plums?” she asks whilst searching the
bruised coloured fruit.
I look up, my eyes tailing above the brim of my book “Is it not seasonal?” I ask, and watch her hide her smile beneath her straw hat.
“Seasonal or not, he has taken a fancy to me, do you not think?” she teases and puts the plum to her chest where she rubs it softly to polish it.
My hands draws the book lower and I look across now with more interest as she puts the fruit to her lips. “I think he is foolish for buying you with plums, there are proffered gifts such as roses
or chocolates. I fear him to be an inadequate romantic.”
Her white teeth break the flesh of the fruit and she sucks the juice before taking it full in her mouth.
“Still, you like plums don’t you?” I say and stand, placing the book aside to brush my dress free from its creases. My lips open and close as hers do and I salver the taste as the plum descends in
“Mm, they’re delicious. But red roses would suit me I think.” She tells me.
I step closer to her now pretending to search the ground for something “but I suppose you can’t ask a sweetheart for roses can you? It would be pointless would it not?” I get closer and find my
eyes drawn to the basket where the round plums sit waiting to be bitten, sucked and swallowed by her. For a second I imagine it, being a plum in that basket.
“I don’t think a sweetheart need be worried, so long as it’s from the heart” she bites again and allows the juice to run a slow river down her chin. She laughs slightly embarrassed “My, they are
soft” she exclaims.
I kneel by the basket next to her “there must be a dozen if not more in there!” and she nods at me.
“Take one. Mr Gordon can not expect me to eat them all by myself” and so I do.
My hand circles the ball and with the weight of it I feel the perfect flesh in my palm, it feels soft and the tenderness of it promises flavour from the very first bite. I want to kiss it, I want
to suck it and take it in!
She watches me “Go on, try it” she say’s eagerly.
I pause and look at her – she is excited. I smile and put the fruit between my teeth but I do not break the skin just yet.
She leans forward “Taste it!” she urges me, her eyes baring fascination as my tongue licks it, and then I bite!
Sweet on my lips I taste it and smile as I pull it away “Mm!” I moan with pleasure.
Finally, satisfied she leans back “I told you” she say’s and I nod, burying the fruit between my lips again.
Together we sit and watch as we take turns to nibble, suck and moan with pleasure until the whole basket is gone. Holding hands we giggle and run back inside with red lips from kissing the juice
off each others lips.
I did not like Mr Gordon at first, but as the weeks pass I decide I like him more and more. His gifts; a different fruit every week, theynever get wasted. I fear though one daywith his unrequited
love never dieing, he will stop bringing fruit andbring her roses instead.
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