The female form is the universe’s most alluring creation.
So beautiful in fact, it stirs craving even within its own kind.
KATIE’S FIRST INSTINCT was to pull over to the side of the road and take a snapshot of the cute little vegetable stand. It would have looked great up on her social media, with the rural landscape background and all.
But she had made a promise to Priscilla during their conversation over Zoom that she would keep all their interaction private. And so Katie kept her word, leaving her iphone in her purse as she turned onto the old beaten path just past the roadside veggie stand. Although only an hour outside city limits, she had never been this far out in the countryside, and found the surroundings to be peacefully inviting.
A quarter mile down the dirt road and Katie pulled up to The Honeysuckle Haven, the small business that she had been hoping to land a summer internship at. She had just completed her first year of college as a Creative Writing student, and had felt drawn to the posting up on the department’s bulletin board.
Three months of being paid to write, plus school credit and room and board. She didn’t know how many students were applying for the position and could only keep her fingers crossed as she headed in for her second interview.
The house was country décor and reflected Priscilla’s personality. She had a good twenty years on the coed but wore it very well, not afraid to show her slender body with fitted jeans and a blouse that complimented a toned tummy and full breasts. Long blonde hair tied up at the back gave a clue of a lady who was about getting things done, yet still had a mysterious side that could let it all go for some of life’s more passionate moments. Her face was one of beauty, with a big Julia Roberts smile, the few lines time had etched on it actually enhancing the allure of her aesthetics.
Katie sat down with the honeysuckle iced tea she had been offered and listened close to the woman she hoped to soon be working for.
“We make everything from honeysuckle teas to soaps, jellies to perfumes. I’m currently staffed with a dozen workers, given the fact that we’re entering our peak season. Every summer I also work with your school in offering an internship, with each year’s chosen recipient moving in for the three months we’re at our most busiest.
“If you do end up working here you’ll see that I’m all about structure, because it’s the only way a business like this can work. For our intern, this means a schedule centered around the written word. Basically, your day would be divided into fourths, with the first quarter being spent working on our company website. Blogging, product descriptions, answering emails, stuff like that. The next twenty-five percent goes towards your creative writing. Whether you wanna write a book, songs, poetry, etcetera. It’s up to you. The third portion of your work day has to be devoted to reading, because let’s face it, besides real-life experience, there’s no greater teaching tool. And my library consists of over a thousand books. So it doesn’t matter if you’re into the classics or today’s best sellers, you’re bound to find at least a few page-turners to fall in love with.
“And then there’s the last part of your work day, which will actually be going on throughout your waking hours. A personal journal about what you’re experiencing, in real time. But more on that later, if we get to that point. So, any questions so far?”
“Actually, I do have one,” Katie replied. “I think it’s great that you’re giving creative writers this opportunity, but I still don’t see the benefit you’re getting from it. I mean yeah, there’s the couple of hours a day spent on your website, but that doesn’t seem enough for what you’re offering.”
Priscilla took a sip of her tea, then went on to explain. “I appreciate your observations. The truth of the matter is, I used to be a writer too.
“Then again, once a writer, always a writer, right?”
The two shared a laugh.
“A couple of decades ago I was sitting in those same classrooms you’re now studying in. That’s how I know your department head, Ms. Tarbox. Of course, back then she was just a teacher, but one that had a profound effect on me as a student. Thanks to her lessons and encouragement I went on to work as a copywriter at one of New York’s most prestigious ad firms. Now when I say copywriter, I don’t mean the kind of crap you find in the Want Ads of craigslist. Back then copywriting was another form of storytelling, not the SEO bullshit so many try to make it out to be today.”
This brought another laugh out of Katie.
“So the success I found in copy allowed me to retire early, and since I’ve always had a fondness for honeysuckles, well, here I am.
“But to answer your question, it’s just my way of giving back. And the companionship that sometimes comes along with it is nice too.
“Now back to the particulars of the job. Although it may sound like an easy way to make a few thousand dollars by the end of the summer, the level of commitment required would prove difficult for just about anyone.
“As you’ll probably recall, during our Zoom chat I asked you two questions. One was if you currently have a boyfriend, and the second, if the right opportunity came along, would you be able to leave your life behind for the summer. If you would have answered Yes to the first and No to the second, you wouldn’t be sitting here today. But because your response was what I was looking for, we’re able to proceed.
“You’ll be required to spend the entire summer here, with no trips to the city. In other words, I’ll expect the same level of dedication from you as displayed from our great authors of the past. In order to write convincingly, truthfully, one must be willing to allow themselves to be absorbed by the world of which they are describing. Sure imagination counts for a lot of it, but when a writer has the opportunity to actually live it, breathe it, the authenticity that comes out of it is undeniable.
“This is where problems sometimes arise. I know how attached your generation is to your devices and all, but I have to insist you stay offline while you’re here. You’ll be free to contact your parents any time you want, via my landline, but other than that, outside communication will be off limits, as it only serves as a distraction. To ensure you understand what is being asked of you, you’ll be required to sign a contract, and if at any point it’s violated, the deal will be terminated, with no compensation.
“I know this all sounds a little harsh, but I’ve learned by experience, so the measures have to be taken. For those who have stuck it out, they’ve went on to have very rewarding writing careers.”
Katie just sat there, trying to process.
“Yeah, it could be a lot to take in,” Priscilla continued, “which is why I’m going to give you twenty-four hours to decide. So there’s just one more part of this interview, and then we’ll be finished for today.”
She walked over to her desk and retrieved a pen and paper from one of its drawers.
“I’ve already looked over your grades and spoken to Ms. Tarbox, but I’m still going to need a writing sample from you right now. It’s not timed, you can take as long as you want. What I’m looking for is honesty. The courage to tell the truth.
“I want you to choose something you would never dream of sharing in one of your Creative Writing classes. An intimate secret that is so personal you might not even share it with your best friend. It doesn’t have to be long. Only great in substance. I’ll then call you tomorrow, once you’ve had ample time to consider everything, and if you’re still interested, I’ll notify you by the end of the week to let you know my decision.”
Priscilla then left Katie alone to put pen to paper.
For the past six years I’ve ended my birthday in the same way. After all the greetings, presents, cake and ice cream, after I take my shower, brush my teeth, and lock my bedroom door for the night, I stand in front of my wall mirror, naked.
A tradition of assessing my ever-changing body. From inspecting the breasts slowly growing out of my chest to the small hairs sprouting below my waist. Each year it was as if someone new was being reflected for my eyes to take in.
Katie lifted the ball point of the pen from off the paper and thought about how much farther she should go.
‘An Intimate secret that is so personal.’
She continued writing.
It wasn’t until my Sweet Sixteen that I had learned about the clitoris in health class, curiosity leading me to go in search of my own. Our teacher told us about the eight thousand nerve endings this organ had. A miraculous part of the female anatomy, its sole purpose being for pleasure.
Feeling as if I were doing something wrong, I refused to touch it, just trying to get a good look at it by pulling its hood back with my fingertips.
Like a little hidden pearl it just sat there, protruding from my glistering pink flesh. What If I did touch it? Just to see how it felt? Just to…
I was in heaven, unable to bring myself to stop! All this time it had been down there waiting for me, but it wasn’t until the first night of my sixteenth year on earth that I first discovered the amazing pleasure my body was capable of producing.
Last month, on my eighteenth birthday, I approached the mirror for the seventh time. This time my eyes not only found a more blossomed body, but along with this sight came a deep feeling of sorrow. Those beautifully developed breasts sitting high across my chest had been fondled by hands I had held for six months. Sucked by a mouth that had promised to never leave me. My delicate flower below my hidden pearl having bled for his lying, conniving cock, opening back up to it whenever he so desired. Only to be abandoned a month before graduation. Claiming it to be for the best, that long-distance relationships never worked out, he went out into this world without me.
Why had I been so careless in giving away what I could never get back? Logic tells me it’s part of growing up, but my heart says otherwise. Whatever the case may be, I am certain of one thing. Words have gotten me through it. They are my solace, my savior, my future.
Katie’s first night in her new bedroom was a life-long memory in the making. Screened windows kept open throughout the house allowed for the gentle summer breeze to blow in, filling every room with the sweet aroma of the honeysuckle growing out back. Her mattress and pillows were petal-soft, like lying on a bed of flowers, her excitement for this new opportunity growing with each and every thought about her writing future. Being able to devote the whole vacation to her passion, along with Pricilla’s guidance and connections, could very likely land her a publishing deal a lot sooner than she had first anticipated.
And so this was the aspiration Katie fell asleep to. Her books lining the shelves of book stores, her pen signing one copy after another as eager fans waited in line to shower her with compliments.
Author Katie Wells.
Who knew there was so much to learn from the world of honeysuckle? Priscilla assured Katie that she need not attempt to memorize everything. That a basic understanding of the business was all she had to concern herself with. But that didn’t stop the young eager intern from following along with clipboard in hand, jaunting down notes every time a fact was given.
She had been introduced to the six staff members, all female, and had watched with fascination as the transformation process from flower to product took place.
Next she was taken on a tour of what her boss referred to as ‘the womb.’ Aisles and aisles of honeysuckle, separated by color, united by that sweet fragrance that brought on the desire to taste.
“There are nearly one hundred and eighty species in the honeysuckle family,” Priscilla explained, “but we only grow about twelve here.”
“Do they all have the same flavors?” Katie asked.
“You know, that’s one of the reasons why I chose you. Your curious nature.”
She reached up and plucked a velvet flower from the row to their right, then pulled a white one from the opposing vine.
“To most, the taste, like the scent, is identical. But if you know what to look for, your taste buds will be able to differentiate one from another.
“You see this little green bud where the flower connects to the stem? It’s called the calyx. This is where you separate the two, which then gives you access to the string, officially called ‘the style’. You pull it out…
“And you’re ready to suck.
“Now here’s a little secret. Most people will just go straight in for that droplet of nectar, sucking so hard it’s as if they’re raping the poor thing. As with anything so delicate and beautiful, care should be taken. First you wanna place the severed stem against your saliva.”
Katie watched as Priscilla did just that, sticking out her pink wet tongue and gently placing the open stem on it. She held it there for a few seconds, slowly twirling the flower around between her thumb and index finger.
“Now that she feels relaxed, unthreatened, despite her last few moments of life, the release of the nectar will be voluntary, assuring you get the fullness of her sweet center.”
Priscilla brought the wet stem up to Katie’s mouth, prompting her to part her lips, then slid the open honeysuckle in until it made contact with the intern’s tongue.
“Envision her little insides reaching out to draw you in.
“Take hold of her body by sealing your lips around her stem.
“Now suck, the gift of her honey being passed from her to you. Your taste buds opening to it, absorbing it. Basking in it.”
How could one droplet be so sweet, so satisfying? Katie didn’t know, but was certain she had never experienced anything like it before.
Priscilla handed her the velvet flower. “You do the next one.”
Katie followed the same steps, with the same timing, mindful of every moment like she had just been taught.
When finished, she looked up to her mentor.
“The velvet one is a little less sweet. A little… Roasted.”
Priscilla smiled, while Katie was in awe.
The following weekend The Honeysuckle Haven was taking part in their small community’s annual jamboree. A street fair of sorts where city folks came to get a taste of the simple life.
The honeysuckle booth was one of the most popular, with decorative vines serving as free samples to what customers could expect from the array of products being sold. The crew of six and their leader were working like busy bees, every now and then Katie taking a break from her blogging and real-time tweeting to help out.
It only had been a week, but she felt she had been away from civilization for at least a month. In a good way, that is. How strange these people looked, hardly looking up from their devices to enjoy their surroundings. And even then it was only to take selfies and the like. And to think, she had been one of them.
By the time the sun set the Honeysuckle Haven booth was pretty much sold out of their inventory, happy to be packing up and calling it a day. When they got home Katie headed for the shower, while Priscilla chose to relax in the bathtub of her master bedroom.
Katie then went on the company computer to post the blog and update the site, the urge to go to her personal social media now starting to bug her. But the last thing she wanted to do was violate her boss’s trust, so with the thought of writing in her journal, she pulled herself away.
There were only a few entries to date. Mainly her thoughts on the two books she had read so far. One by Ken Follett, whom she had called a master plotter, the other, Anne Rice, whose descriptions was a masterclass in poetic storytelling.
But the one she held dearest was the first. It was right after Priscilla had given her the lesson on indulging in honeysuckle. She had been handed the soft bound journal when they returned to the house, along with an instruction on how to use it.
“Whenever you feel like you’ve gained an insight into one of life’s providing moments, whether you perceive it as positive or negative, chronicle it here.”
Katie wasn’t quite sure what that meant, but she had already had an urge to write something about her first experience in ‘the womb.’
I feel my eyes have been opened in more ways than one. Does everything which surrounds us have such hidden depth?
And what am I to make of this new craving I have inside? Is it wrong to be attracted to something so similar to myself? A sensual longing I dare not bring to light, keeping this wonder, which I feel is on the verge of becoming a fantasy, hidden in the dark.
That night Katie had re-read her written words, the question of being right or wrong with such an intimate desire reminding her of the first night of her sixteenth year.
The courage to move forward and explore had taken her to sensual heights she could never have imagined. So why suppress this new hunger?
With thoughts of sharing honeysuckle, which in her mind’s eye was as passionate as sharing a kiss, Katie had allowed the touch of her hand to add sensation to the mental image that was now indeed a fantasy.
Thinking back on it aroused her, and now all she wanted to do was turn off the lights, get into bed, and revisit that special place. But not before letting Priscilla know the blog had been posted, as requested.
Journal still in hand she headed for the master bedroom, knocking before entering and following when Priscilla called out, “In here…”
The bathroom door was open. Not wanting to invade her privacy, Katie stopped at the doorway, her line of sight going no further than the foot of the tub.
“I just wanted to let you know I posted the blog. It’s live now. Goodnight.”
“How’s our social media doing?
“Come on in.”
Hesitant, she took a few steps inside, until she was near the edge of the bath that held the woman who was part of her secret daydreams.
She didn’t know where to look, afraid that eye contact would give Priscilla the ability to see right through her, while taking her gaze lower could lead to even more dangerous territory.
Katie settled on one of the many honeysuckle flowers floating on the surface of the water.
“Tiktok follows are up eighteen percent, X likes, twenty-five percent. I-”
Priscilla shifted her submerged body a bit, the petals being followed by Katie’s eyes riding the body of water until they reached another blossom of beauty.
It took a second for her to identify that it was in fact one of Priscilla’s luscious nipples, the flower dancing around the areola as water rose and fell over it like waves on a calm beach.
Katie’s eyes shot up to Priscilla’s.
“Um, I replied to a few emails. They were just inquiring about placing orders.”
“How’s your inner thoughts coming along?”
Katie didn’t know how to answer the question, until Priscilla withdrew a hand from underneath the water and used it to gesture to the journal the intern now held close.
“Oh, I’m learning a lot. About myself. The books I’m reading. Everything.”
Like a dear lost in headlights, Katie hadn’t realized her deep stare upon Priscilla’s other breast, which was now fully exposed like an exotic island, until it was too late. Once again her eyes snapped back up, only this time her boss’s look had changed to one of pleasant understanding.
“Open your journal, Katie.”
So nervous she would have fallen to the floor if it weren’t for the excitement holding her up, Katie did as instructed, removing the pen from the journal’s spine and uncapping it before positioning her ball point over the paper.
Priscilla took hold of the sides of her tub and slowly began to rise herself out of the bath, facing her young pupil as the water cascaded down off her long gorgeous body, some of the flowers sticking to her skin.
Katie’s knees felt like they were going to buckle at any time, her mentor standing there baring all to serve as muse for the teenager’s pen.
As my eyes absorb the splendor of the most erotic visual they have ever beheld, taking in every mesmerizing detail like one of those High Definition nature cameras, my body can no longer hold back, reflecting every little drop of water with a wetness of its own as it now fully understands Shakespeare’s line, ‘For I ne’er saw true beauty till this night.’
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