Flower

This story contains consensual sexual themes between two women. If you have a problem with that, the door is in the upper left corner in the form of an arrow; feel free to exit now.

Adelina

Mother, father, sister of Mary. If that damn alarm doesn’t stop screeching in the next two seconds I’m going to lose my shit.

Sitting up and swinging my legs off of the side of my bed, eyes still closed, I blindly slap my hand down on top of everything on my dresser trying to get the damn clock to shut up.

Getting ready for the day has always been one of my least favorite things. I hate brushing my teeth, showers are monotonous, my hair is a nightmare to brush out, and being tired while doing those things just makes life a hundred times worse.

I also have a bad habit of waking up ten minutes before I have to leave for work, so wearing anything more than mascara and a cheap dress just isn’t happening.

I looked in the mirror one more time, examining myself to make sure I don’t look like I have only been awake for 8 minutes.

Today I went with my navy blue, sleeveless dress that has buttons all the way down the front and a bit of a V-neckline. It hits me mid-thigh and I should probably invest in a new dress; this one shrank after the first wash and I live in constant fear of my ass showing if I ever have to bend down in it.

My wavy hair is extremely frizzy today, so I quickly part it in the middle and throw it into a low pony. Grabbing my purse, I’m out of the door in record time.

-

The bell that hangs above the door chimes as I enter the flower shop. Miss Patty greets me with a smile from behind the register as I head to the back to put my purse away.

I’ve worked for Miss Patty for three years now, she took a big risk hiring a seventeen-year-old that just needed to make it to her next meal. She has been a light in my life and has supported me when no one else would.

As I walk back through the door that leads to the back room, I see two huge bouquets of Juliet roses. I don’t remember ordering those last week when I did inventory.

Miss Patty looks at me with her usual smile, but I can tell she is trying to hide the fact that she is flustered.

I walk over to admire the gorgeous flowers, “Who are these for?”

“They were overnighted for that new high-rise, Amherst Inc., I’m pretty sure.”

Pretty sure? It isn’t like Miss Patty to not have all the details about an order, especially such an expensive one like this.

“Sorry, deary. I know I don’t have it together. The girl who ordered these yesterday just canceled the pickup. When I informed her we don’t deliver this time of year she offered me a thousand dollars to deliver them. We’re just so swamped with all of these funeral orders.”

Well, I’ll be damned. Miss Patty is making that fucking bread after all. Maybe she’ll give me a bonus if I do this for her.

“I’ll go and you can stay to work on the orders. It’s getting too cold for you to be out and about anyway.” I state simply.

“You’d do that for me?” she asks as if she didn’t already know the answer. I just laugh and shake my head at her sarcasm as I get out my phone to order an Uber.

-

Fifteen minutes later the overly nice driver was helping me carry the big pots of roses to the car. I quickly hop in, avoiding small talk at all costs.

As we near the building I call the number Patty gave me and inform the nervous-sounding girl on the other end that I will be arriving soon.

When we get there she is already waiting for us.

Who is this obsessive over a few flower arrangements?

Her skinny arms wrap around one of them as soon as the trunk opens enough for her to slither her way in. I follow suit, grabbing the other.

I nod to the driver as we walk through the gorgeous glass doors. It will take me at least 45 minutes to get another Uber this deep into the city, but there’s a Starbucks on every corner so maybe I can relax a bit while I wait.

She is walking faster than that fucking chicken that Rocky tries to catch in the second movie. I guess she kind of resembles a chicken. That blonde hair and the loud screech noise she made when someone almost ran into her. Pretty accurate comparison, I’d say.

We enter through golden elevator doors and she pokes the button for the 36th floor. We’re both panting, because of how quickly she was moving and because these arrangements are fucking heavy.

As we pass the tenth floor she speaks for the first time, “I’m sorry about all of this. It’s my boss’s birthday and we wanted them to be a surprise,” she goes on “of course she would schedule four meetings on her birthday, who wouldn’t do that? Totally normal.” she says the last part under her breath.

We make a bit of small talk the rest of the way, but as soon as the ding of the elevator tells us we’ve made it, Chicken Girl is back in the game.

Expertly weaving through the mass of people, she leaves me to lag behind quite a bit. The marble floor clicking under the heels of designer shoes, while I’m in my flats from Old Navy.

In seconds that somehow felt like hours, we make it to a set of huge mahogany double doors. She puts the flowers down to knock on what was, I’m guessing, collectively four different trees.

I hear a curt, “Come in,” and Chicky Chicky Boom Boom pushes against one of the doors until it opens.

I can’t see anything in front of me, I can only see things that are on either side of the mass of flowers in my arms.

Blondie leads me to a corner of the room and directs me to sit the flowers down on the ground. It isn’t until I’m too far exposed that I remember my choice of attire for today.

This dress is going straight in the garbage after today. I’ve descended into such a low level of life that even my clothes are betraying me.

I quickly straighten and smooth down my skirt. Spinning around I am met with a gorgeous pair of gray-blue eyes.

When I can get myself out of my trance enough to speak, I further embarrass myself, “Well, I hope you enjoyed the show.” ... humor is my coping mechanism.

Did I just say that to a rich-ass businesswoman? Nice job, Adelina.

I’m caught by surprise when she says, “Out, Tracy. I need to speak to this woman who just sexually harassed me on my birthday.” before she even finished her thought, Chicken Parmeblonde was out of the doors leaving me with this terrifying woman.

She stepped back, walking toward her desk to sit. I can examine her fully now. Beautiful chestnut hair, a deep maroon dress with a pencil skirt, and a black belt cinched around her tiny waist further accentuating her wide hips.

She is perfect and I am in a dress from the Target clearance rack that I bought two years ago.

She motions for me to sit in one of the chairs opposite her on the other side of her desk, and I do so without hesitation. I cannot make this lady mad, the shop could use an extra thousand dollars and I could use a bonus.

My hands are so clammy I swear I spiked a fever for a second. Looking down at my hands clasped in my lap, she addresses me for the first time.

“What is your name?” she asks as I lift my eyes to hers.

“Adelina Morris, ma’am.”

Don’t do anything wrong. Don’t do anything wrong. Don’t do anything wrong.

She scoffs, “‘Ma’am’? How old do you think I am, Adelina? Surely not old enough to be a ‘ma’am’,” she says as if the word had bitten her.

“Layla, please, call me Layla.”

“Layla,” I let the name roll off of my tongue. Her name. One of the most beautiful women I have ever laid eyes on. Layla.

She shoots me a satisfactory smile at the use of her name as she stands to walk around her desk and rest in front of me. Leaning against the desk, her dress rises a few more inches up her thighs and I can see more of that gorgeously tanned skin. Oh, what I would do if those legs were open for me right now.

She clears her throat to bring my eyes back up to hers.

“Are you in school, Adelina?”

“No, I actually work at the flower shop full time,” I reply with a half-smile. “I’ve been working there since I was seventeen, Miss Patty is like a mother to me.” the corners of my mouth stretching up in a full smile now.

“Do you have a passion for flowers or do you just enjoy the work?” she asks, seeming genuinely curious about my life.

“I don’t really know what I’m passionate about. Passion isn’t necessarily a luxury that I get to practice in my life right now,” she looks at me clearly puzzled, “my parents kicked me out when I was sixteen so I’ve been on my own since then.” I finish, why am I telling this lady about myself again?

The eye contact becomes awkward and I find my eyes traveling back to her delicious looking legs. Way to trade one awkward moment for another, Adelina.

Well if showing her your panties wasn’t enough, stare at her legs like a creeper too, why don’t ya.

“Adelina, I’m going to be straightforward. I have men hitting on me all day in an attempt to get ahead at this company. I have women like Tracy busting their asses every second just to get to walk into my office for two minutes to deliver flowers.”

Okay? You’re successful, we get it sis.

“Yet, somehow, with all of these people vying for my attention for months on end, you’ve managed to capture it within the first ten seconds of being here.”

What the actual fuck. Is she coming on to me? Say something you dumbass!

“Um... I’m really sorry about flashing you. I didn’t know this is how my day was going to go.” It comes out almost defensively.

“Indeed, I didn’t think mine would be like this either,” she says matter-of-factly.

“Adelina, I would like to take you to dinner tonight.”

I knew my mouth was open but no words were emerging. It was like my neurons were fried. This woman had broken my brain completely and beyond repair.

She cut my shock short with her next words, “I know you may not be attracted to women and I want you to know that is okay. I don’t want you to feel pressured because of my gender. I would just like to get to know you more.”

Awestruck. I mean, I haven’t been with a girl in a few years. I’ve definitely never dated one, just a few meaningless hookups at college parties. I never went to college, but some of my friends would invite me to party with them every once in a while.

Before my brain could be logical about the situation my mouth betrayed me.

“I would love to, Layla.”