The doorbell rang merrily, although in a chaotic way, as if something was broken inside. It was too rare an occurrence to bother the owner enough to fix it.
Indeed, the sound surprised the owner, who immediately sprang up from the work she was doing. She looked up while promptly making her way back to the counter. At that time, her main feeling was curiosity to see who had made their way to her small shop.
"Hm, hello? Anyone there?" asked a stranger's voice.
So, the shopkeeper didn't imagine the bell ringing. Someone had really entered her shop. The next thought going through her head was a silent prayer, in hope that it wasn't another person looking to buy horseshoes.
"Yes, I'm right here!" answered the owner.
She quickly passed her hand on the counter to clean off some dust: a meaningless gesture, as the entire shop was covered by it. It wasn't exactly dirty; it was more as if it had been forgotten and left to the passage of time, aging it slowly. Efforts to make it presentable were too late now. She'd have to roll with it for better or worse.
"You were looking for something?" she asked, clearing her throat with a groan to smoothen up her coarse voice.
Then, she froze, paralyzed by the sight of the woman who just came into her shop. Stunning felt like too weak of a word to describe her. If it weren't for her standard adventurer attire, it would have looked like a goddess or royalty had just entered her shop. From her body's unbelievable and immediately noticeable curves to her charming face, it had all captured the shopkeeper's attention in no time. However, the woman's words didn't have this chance, as the shopkeeper failed to focus on them, her mind locked on her luscious lips, their bright red color in a sharp but arousing contrast with her brown skin. And how magnificent was her long, black hair, cascading down to her hips, every lock further highlighting her body's shape.
The shopkeeper suddenly had a spark of professionalism—or rather, she wished only to please such a good-looking customer, if she could—and pulled herself together enough to speak.
"Please, forgive me. Customers here are rare; I was a bit surprised. What did you need?" She knew it was probably a disastrous way to handle the situation, but maybe it would be enough to prompt the beautiful woman who just walked into her shop to repeat herself and stay here a bit longer.
However, her worries seemed to be unjustified, as her customer answered in a cheerful tone, seemingly unbothered.
"Hm, no problem! I was looking for some adventuring gear, and the townspeople said I should go see the blacksmith lady. That's you, right?"
An awkward smile grew on the shopkeeper's lips, and she hid her embarrassed expression behind her hand while pushing back messy, dark hair from her face.
"Have I said something wrong?" asked her customer, genuinely worried.
The shopkeeper took a deep sigh, put down both of her hands onto the counter, and tried to face her interesting customer as clearly and professionally as possible.
"Oh, man. It's nothing. It's been a while since I've taken a request from an adventurer."
That, and being called a blacksmith. With a quick glance around the shop, it was clear to see that through all of its mess and dust, most of the items stocked in there were a diverse collection that should have belonged in a very specialized general store rather than at a blacksmith's: ropes, hourglasses, bags of various sizes, and tons of other various trinkets. Outside of those damn horseshoes, she didn't have many occasions to light the forge in recent years. The most glorious years of adventuring had ended, and with no immediate threats to the nearby kingdoms, life was peaceful on the continent—albeit a bit too peaceful for the blacksmith's taste, to the point where she felt useless and that her job was not needed anymore.
"So, what did you need exactly?" asked the blacksmith.
Her customer's lovely eyes seemed to lose themselves in thought, as she hummed with an interrogative tone.
"Uhh, I'm not sure. I'm not that knowledgeable about it, you know?"
Her sight then seemed to wander around the shop, in search of possible purchases. However, now that the shopkeeper knew that she had been introduced as "the blacksmith," she would rather avoid curious looks on the shoddy items lying around that didn't reflect her capacities at all. Motivated by a sudden impulse—mainly fear that her one customer would be discouraged from buying from her—she reached forward to put her hand on the woman's arm. The customer's eyes immediately darted back to her, full of curiosity. After a few seconds of awkwardness, the smith rubbed the fabric of the standard shirt between two of her fingers.
"Hm, I see," she muttered with a tone she strongly hoped to be professional. "You need some higher quality, more resistant clothing. Maybe some armor, even?"
Somehow, she managed to keep her expression composed on the surface. For how long, she didn't know, since she was boiling inside. Her amazement wouldn't stop. The woman's adventurer outfit was plain, but so close-fitting that it served the purpose of a perfect teasing for what was under while keeping an innocent look. The blacksmith's eyes finally locked onto to her customer's face. However, she knew how close her curves were and how lovely they looked, and she was dying to gaze at them again.
"That would be good!" approved the customer. "I would also love to get a stronger weapon. I had a wooden sword, but I broke it while fighting off wolves on the way here..."
Every word pronounced by the woman was filled with the endearing excitement of a young lady going on her first adventure. The blacksmith found such naive but upbeat demeanor absolutely adorable. Arousing, even. But, in contrast, she felt like such a pervert. A woman in her thirties, frustrated, and without much dating opportunities in her small town. Maybe she just needed to breath, focus, and she wouldn't be so flustered and turned on anymore.
She took a step back and let go of the woman's arm.
"I can make you that, for sure. If you aim to be a decent adventurer, you need to carry a weapon able to cut down the toughest of foes."
As she was about to enter the specifics of it, the blacksmith noticed the wide-eyed look the woman was giving her.
"Did I say something wrong?" asked the smith with a hint of worry.
"No, not at all! I'm impressed by...the idea of you making it all."
The shopkeeper shrugged. She wasn't used to people being excited by her craft, at all.
"I'm a smith, after all. What we'll do is this: I'll show you the models I've got ready here in the shop, and then I'll forge one specifically for you," said the shopkeeper while lazily showing the few dusty sets of armor that she could see waiting around.
She really wanted to brag more than that, though. She was dying to list all the reasons why her craftsmanship was so perfect: that she had all the expertise needed both in armors and weapons, as well as the muscles and knowledge to build it all herself. Her customer was a beautiful but unpolished gem—she only wished to make her shine as bright as possible. But bragging would be unprofessional, and worse than that, uncool. What she desired more than anything was for her customer to see her as a stylish, competent and cool blacksmith. So, she swallowed it all up, and waited.
And maybe bragging wasn't even needed. As soon as she was finished with her explanation, the smith could see that her customer's eyes were full of excitement, her perfect eyeliner wings following her expressive eyes movements in an adorable display of enthusiasm. From what it seemed, she was already fully on board.
"Wow, that's so cool!"
The blacksmith couldn't help but nod with a faint smile. Damn, she was awful at this "cool, maybe even slightly cold" attitude. She couldn't resist melting against the sheer joyfulness of her customer, and as the seconds passed, she could only yearn more desperately for her touch. However, she didn't have to yearn for much longer. Her customer suddenly reached closer and took both of the blacksmith's hands in hers, as her eyes kept shining with cheerful curiosity.
"Can I come and see? You, forging?"
That was it. She was so close now. Her hands were soft and warm, delicate - imagining her swinging a sword was adorable. The smith could almost touch the fabric of her shirt - the idea sent hundreds of shivers through her, and her cheeks had already fully flushed red before she could have all of this processed.
