"I made...something..."
"You made...something...?"
The sight of Melanie with a spatula made Jocelyn cringe. With Melly in the kitchen, it was a wonder the fire alarm wasn't blaring.
"What kind of something did you make?" Jocelyn asked, with palpable trepidation.
"I don't know exactly." Melanie turned her back on Jocelyn as she hovered over the glass pot. "It might be a dessert."
"Give me strength," Jocelyn sighed. Though, to be fair, the kitchen did smell wonderfully decadent, like cream, warm cinnamon sugar and... "Did you use my Tahitian vanilla?"
"Guess so." Melly shrugged, glancing over her shoulder. "Why? Is it bad?"
Jocelyn nearly choked. "Is it bad? I paid eighteen dollars for that bottle!"
"Oh." Melanie sucked the spatula. The shifty look in her eye suggested she was wondering whether or not to say what she was thinking. "I guess I shouldn't have used so much."
Sinking into her chair at the breakfast table, Jocelyn let her head fall into her hands. She let out a deep chuckle. What was a little vanilla if it kept Melly occupied?
"Happy day, then?" Jocelyn asked. Her heavy hope stretched to heaven, like a helium balloon lined with river stones. It was the question she always had to ask and never wanted to ask.
Melanie cocked her head in consideration. "Yeah, good day. Not a psycho-dizzy-giddy day, just a good one."
"Calm?"
"Yeah, exactly," she replied, nodding more slowly. "Calm."
Jocelyn closed her eyes and breathed in the soothing aroma of Tahitian vanilla. "So, tell me what you cooked. Smells gorgeous."
Hopping on the spot, Melanie clapped one hand against the spatula, sending splatters across the cooktop. "I think it's going to be really good. Probably the best thing I've ever made!"
"All right, so what is it already?" Jocelyn traced a finger down Melanie's back. Lost in some distant land of rain and fog, Melanie didn't seem to sense the touch. She stared into her creamy creation.
"What did you make, Melly?"
"Oh. Well, you know those peaches in the fridge?"
"They were on their last legs."
"Yeah, they were getting all wrinkly and dried out. I looked at them this morning and they made me really sad. They reminded me of old women, withering away in a basket, and I thought, 'I have to do something about that.' So I decided to make them into...something..."
"You're still not sure what?"
"Maybe it's a soup." Melanie lifted the vat from the stove and poured its creamy contents into the big glass bowl waiting patiently on the breakfast table. "Like a dessert soup? That's a real thing, right?"
"Yes, there are dessert soups," Jocelyn replied, feeling somewhat like she was talking to a child. "I've had a lovely cold cantaloupe soup with a raspberry drizzle."
"No, this one has to be warm," Melanie interrupted, her countenance brightening. "Did you ever play bobbing for apples when you were a kid?"
Jocelyn laughed. "Umm...let me think about that. Did I ever plunge my head into ice-cold water infested with the germs of countless other children? No, I can't say that was an appealing activity."
"But you're not worried about my germs, are you?"
Jocelyn's lips turned up at the sides like broken window blinds. It had been ages since Melanie had been in the mood for love, but Jocelyn could play the coquette too. "What are you proposing?"
Melanie squealed. "Let's go bobbing for peaches! I took out all the pits and cut the peaches into halves. Come on, it'll be fun. Cross your hands behind your back."
Plump cooked peaches floated at the top of the bowl of vanilla milky-ness. It did smell wonderful. How bad could this mixture taste, if it was basically just milk and peaches? And, really, what harm was there in shoving her face into an aromatic soup? There was always a chance it would improve her complexion.
"Okay, I'm game," Jocelyn said. "But I'm taking off my blouse for this. Seems like it could get a little messy."
"I hope so." Melanie giggled, helping Jocelyn with buttons before tearing her own top off over her head.
Though her hair had been tied back in a messy bun, pulling off her tight shirt loosened it so golden strands hung against her shoulder. Her bra was bright yellow. It didn't suit her, but Jocelyn didn't tell her so except by reaching around to unlatch it. Melanie hopped in place until the straps fell from her shoulders and slid down her arms. Because her wrists were already crossed behind her back, it stopped there and hung around her hips.
"I love your tits," Jocelyn sighed as Melanie leaned into the big bowl. She dunked most of her face into the milk, chasing peaches around until she came up with a gasp.
"I didn't get one." Thickened milk dripped from her nose and chin, running down between her breasts and soaking her ugly bra. Jocelyn couldn't keep herself from laughing, but Melanie was happy as a clam. "It's your turn now. Your bra's going to get all dirty."
"Oh, right," Jocelyn chuckled, taking it off. Hers was white and expensive and not at all ugly. "So, I just put my mouth in there and try to catch something?"
"Yeah, but it's hard. They're slippery."
Peach halves bobbed unsuspectingly in the creamy white liquid as Jocelyn planned her surprise attack. If they didn't see her coming, they couldn't react.
She dove at the bowl, aiming for one in a cluster of peaches. When her mouth hit the milk, they scattered in all directions like frightened sheep. She chased them through warm liquid all around the edge of the bowl, but she had to retreat, breathless.
"See? It's hard." Melanie laughed at the warm milk dripping from Jocelyn's hair and all the way down to her stomach. "How did you get so messy?"
"I had my head in a bowl of milk. What do you expect?" Jocelyn chuckled, feeling quite relaxed as the soft milk streamed down her chin. "Your turn again."