Chapter 7: Absence...
*****
Absence, in Annika's opinion, did
not
make the heart grow fonder. It simply made a woman hornier. Itchy. Two nights of phone sex with no release -- she sincerely hoped Grady's balls were as blue as hers -- was driving her insane.
She pondered his motivation for this erotic torture as she drove the dark, empty pre-dawn streets out of St Kilda. And his motivation made her cunt clench.
Lucille.
She had been the focus of discussion the last two nights, with Grady describing in detail how he imagined Lucille fingering a wet and needy Nika, while Annika mimicked his words with her own hands. He had planted images in her mind of Lucille taking her in the hot tub, taking Annika into the dark depths of her consciousness to further explore her submissive side.
And just as her toes were curling in approaching orgasm, Grady would demand she stop.
On a frustrated sigh, Annika told herself it was time to bite the bullet. Grady had steered her to where they both knew she wanted to be. But it was up to her to take the final step. Pulling up at Santospirito's Flower Market, Annika turned Lucille's business card over in her hand, tapped it against the steering wheel. And gave herself a deadline.
You've got until midday, Annika. Fucking do it already
.
Having given a salesclerk her online order reference number, Annika wandered the aisles of the warehouse, adding items to her box tray. She came across a night-blooming Easter lily cacti, pictured it opening under the stars on Lucille's balcony. With a smile, Annika loaded it up, knowing she'd gift it to her neighbour to seal their business deal.
She pulled out her phone to text Grady.
A:
Gonna get in touch with Lucille today. Take her up on her offer. Here's hoping I'll be unwinding with a glass of red in her Jacuzzi tonight. Have a good day xxo
With her stock now replenished, Annika loaded up the car and eased back into traffic that was slowly waking up to the workday. She parked behind her shop, unlocked her greenhouse and switched out her white canvas shoes for sturdy work boots.
Having loaded her rolling cart with stock, she moved back to the greenhouse, unloaded items that would remain there and not in the shop. She stuck her thumb in potted soil, checking for moisture, found it to her liking, before taking the cart and moving into her shop.
Switching the radio to her favourite contemporary jazz station, Annika tied an apron around her hips, flicked on a trio of overhead lamps and at her bench, mixed half a dozen jugs of flower food and water, stirred them with her hand.
Retrieving her box tray of flowers from the boot of her car, Annika commenced stripping stems, cutting them under cool running water and began arranging zinnia, Peruvian lily, hyacinth, whispers of baby's breath, and peonies. Colours burnt and bold, Annika would arrange them at various lengths to bid adieu to summer.
The morning sun rose higher, flooding the room with natural light. Annika switched off the lamps, paused to stand tall in
tadasana
, bent forward in
uttanasana
to touch her toes, before rising again and rolling her shoulders.
A quick glance to the clock saw that Tink would be arriving soon, and Annika found herself looking forward to the inane chatter with which Tink would fill the room. Upon feeling a buzz in her back pocket, Annika wiped her hands on her apron, pulled it out.
G:
Good girl.
Annika was almost embarrassed at Nika's throbbing response to those two words.
Phone still in hand, Annika reached into her back pocket again for Lucille's business card.
Lucille Johnson
Managing Director
Vibe Hotel + Restaurant
She flicked the edges with her fingertips and took a deep breath for courage. Annika keyed Lucille's number into her phone, counted the dings in her ear. Was sent to voicemail.
Lucille's whiskey smooth voice wafted into Annika's ear, down her spine, making her tingle from head to toe.
"... leave your name and number, and I'll get back to you as soon as possible."
The phone beeped. Shit.
Annika cleared her throat. "Lucille. Hi. It's Annika O'Neal. Bud and Blossom? I've thought about your offer over the weekend. And the last couple of nights, actually..." She cleared her throat again, felt heat boil from the neck up. "Would love to talk it over with you. Are you free tonight? Give me a call when you can. Thanks."
There. Done. The ball was now in her court.
* * *
Across town in the hotel's boardroom, Lucille's phone buzzed with the number of an unknown caller. With a quick, apologetic smile to the board members, she flicked it straight to voicemail, pushed her hornrims up the bridge of her nose, refocused her attention.
This meeting was scheduled to last another goddamn hour.
She could admit to herself she'd been scattered lately. Since last weekend, really. She'd made a point to not be seen around her apartment complex the last few days. Easy enough to achieve with a plethora of women willing to share their bed for a night.
But really, she'd wanted to give her herbaceous neighbour space to think. To wonder. And Lucille knew that her absence would be far more noticeable than her presence.
At the meeting's conclusion, Lucille moved briskly back to her office, her black pants suit offset by cherry red Doc Martins. She checked her phone, frowned at the unfamiliar number, checked her voicemail.
And stood a little taller as the delectable Annika O'Neal's voice sent a shot of electricity from her inner eardrum directly to her core. She sucked in a breath to counterbalance the response.
"...the last couple of nights, actually... Give me a call when you're free..."
Lucille looked over her electronic day planner, saw a message from her assistant that her 11 o'clock was early. With the slightest frown, Lucille settled for second choice and texted Annika.
L: