It was snowing hard outside when you walked into my shop. The radio on a shelf behind me issued a report that a blizzard was moving into town, and that people should not travel unless absolutely necessary.
You took off your toque and shook snow crystals out of your hair in a wet spray of water and rainbow ice. I watched as you undid your coat, checked out the shelves of porn on one side, and toys on the other. You raised an eyebrow, and licked your lips.
Then you noticed me. I smiled and nodded slightly, and looked down at the book I was reading so that you would feel comfortable enough to stay, and look for whatever it was that had brought you into the store.
I reached over to a bag of M&M's that I was snacking on. I took a couple and popped them into my mouth, and noticed that a blue M&M had left some dye on my finger. I sucked on it to clean it—and heard a sharp intake of breath.
I looked up to see why you had gasped, but you were busy examining some toys in a corner . . . I wondered if it had just been my imagination, or if you had liked seeing my finger between my lips, sucking and licking to clean off the blue colour . . . maybe it was just my imagination.
I decided to test you. I reached below the cash counter and grabbed the brown paper bag that had my lunch in it. I opened the bag, and pulled out an orange. I made sure that the noise of the bag was loud, crunchy and raspy, and then put it away.
I took the orange in my hands, and began rolling it in circles to loosen the skin from its clinging embrace with the interior meat. I kept an eye on you in my periphery, and thought that you might be watching me in the mirrors that lined the walls behind the video shelving units.
I slipped my thumbs into the flesh of the orange, and penetrated its surface. The movement of my thumbs continued inwards to spread open the thick skin of the orange, and suddenly its aroma exploded outwards; its juices oozed into my skin. The orangeness flooded my nostrils, and oozed into the space behind my brain with its pungent fragrance.
I knew that the aroma would infuse every air molecule in the shop, and watched you closely to see the moment my ethereal orange-drenched fingers reached your body to slip into you and tickle your senses.
I saw a shudder ripple across your shoulders, and knew that the smell was inside you. I took one of my thumbs out of the orange, dripping with its aromatic juices, and pushed it into my mouth.
I sucked the juices off my thumb noisily. Working it in and out of my mouth, my lips slurping the pulp off the surface—I saw your knees twitch slightly—and I knew that I had you.
