Hot House pt. 1
[here is another unpublished story...it may seem a little soap opera-ish, but I think the ending is worth the wait. This one is much shorter than my previous tale.]
After a light lunch, Alan returned to his private greenhouse. He walked quickly through the rows and visually checked his high temperature plants. The African violets and the germaniums bloomed with vibrant flowers. He barely looked up when the greenhouse door slammed open.
"Sorry I'm late. Saturday traffic was a mess." Beth flung her purse on the chair and went straight to the row of orchids.
Alan resisted the urge to make a sarcastic remark. As far as he knew, Beth was always fifteen to thirty minutes late for everything. If she didn't blame traffic, she blamed some other circumstance beyond her control. When he first met her, the constant tardiness bothered him. Now he accepted it as part of her nature.
Beth cooed as she approached her favorite orchid. It was the only one that hadn't bloom yet. She hummed what sounded like a lullaby as she wiped down the leaves with a soft cloth. Alan hovered near her shoulder to check the plant. It was doing better than he expected. Under Beth's care, the frail orchid looked healthier than ever.
"Are you planning to donate the orchids, too?"
Alan paused for a moment. The original plan was to donate all of them. When the local nursery burned down, the entire neighborhood was devastated. Jesse and his family had been in business for the last fifty years. Insurance covered some of the loss, but they couldn't afford to replenish their stock.
Even though he wasn't a professional gardener, Alan volunteered to donate his annuals and exotics to the nursery. A few other hobbyist gardeners also promised to help. Soon Alan found it nearly impossible to balance a full-time job, a freelance editing career, and a greenhouse. If he had been thirty-something, he could have handled it all. But he wasn't. He didn't think of himself as an "older" man, but sometimes his hands reminded him of his age. Instead of giving up, he decided to hire an assistant. That was how he met Beth.
Alan pretended to look over the flame violets as he watched her. It was hard to believe that she was an amateur when it came to plants. With the help of Beth's natural green thumb, Alan's greenhouse thrived. He gazed at Beth's gentle hands doting on the orchid. In a way, he was a little jealous of her green thumb. When it came to the orchids, she had a natural instinct. She knew when they needed more water; she knew when they needed a higher temperature.
Her long chestnut brown hair was tied up in a loose twist. A few strands curled down the nape of her long neck. A belted white tunic hung loosely around her lithe frame. Faded jeans hugged her long legs. As she tossed her bangs away from her face, Alan thought she looked like a college student more than an adult woman.
When she turned towards him, he realized that he missed her question. Suddenly the greenhouse seemed too warm. "What was that?"
"Is this the last orchid?" she repeated. Color bloomed in her cheeks. Alan wasn't sure whether it was from the heat or whether she caught him staring at her.
To Be Continued...
After a light lunch, Alan returned to his private greenhouse. He walked quickly through the rows and visually checked his high temperature plants. The African violets and the germaniums bloomed with vibrant flowers. He barely looked up when the greenhouse door slammed open.
"Sorry I'm late. Saturday traffic was a mess." Beth flung her purse on the chair and went straight to the row of orchids.
Alan resisted the urge to make a sarcastic remark. As far as he knew, Beth was always fifteen to thirty minutes late for everything. If she didn't blame traffic, she blamed some other circumstance beyond her control. When he first met her, the constant tardiness bothered him. Now he accepted it as part of her nature.
Beth cooed as she approached her favorite orchid. It was the only one that hadn't bloom yet. She hummed what sounded like a lullaby as she wiped down the leaves with a soft cloth. Alan hovered near her shoulder to check the plant. It was doing better than he expected. Under Beth's care, the frail orchid looked healthier than ever.
"Are you planning to donate the orchids, too?"
Alan paused for a moment. The original plan was to donate all of them. When the local nursery burned down, the entire neighborhood was devastated. Jesse and his family had been in business for the last fifty years. Insurance covered some of the loss, but they couldn't afford to replenish their stock.
Even though he wasn't a professional gardener, Alan volunteered to donate his annuals and exotics to the nursery. A few other hobbyist gardeners also promised to help. Soon Alan found it nearly impossible to balance a full-time job, a freelance editing career, and a greenhouse. If he had been thirty-something, he could have handled it all. But he wasn't. He didn't think of himself as an "older" man, but sometimes his hands reminded him of his age. Instead of giving up, he decided to hire an assistant. That was how he met Beth.
Alan pretended to look over the flame violets as he watched her. It was hard to believe that she was an amateur when it came to plants. With the help of Beth's natural green thumb, Alan's greenhouse thrived. He gazed at Beth's gentle hands doting on the orchid. In a way, he was a little jealous of her green thumb. When it came to the orchids, she had a natural instinct. She knew when they needed more water; she knew when they needed a higher temperature.
Her long chestnut brown hair was tied up in a loose twist. A few strands curled down the nape of her long neck. A belted white tunic hung loosely around her lithe frame. Faded jeans hugged her long legs. As she tossed her bangs away from her face, Alan thought she looked like a college student more than an adult woman.
When she turned towards him, he realized that he missed her question. Suddenly the greenhouse seemed too warm. "What was that?"
"Is this the last orchid?" she repeated. Color bloomed in her cheeks. Alan wasn't sure whether it was from the heat or whether she caught him staring at her.
To Be Continued...
Labels: erotica
posted by Kis Lee at
6:20 PM
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