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CHAPTER ELEVEN
Archie
Though I longed tofulfill every one of my pretty Maggie’s commands, I didn’t wait until 4pm to come back like she’d told me to. Instead, after a few feverish hours of sleep, I returned at the hour I knew she planned to open – 8am.
I didn’t make my presence known. I’d already faltered in my plans not to distract her with my feelings. I wouldn’t get in her way today of all days. So instead, I took up a chair outside an Etruvian café a little ways away from Maggie’s place. Sipping on an Etruvian marrow milk latte, I watched with bated breath and narrowed eyes as Maggie finally approached the front of the shop, ready to open.
My heart sang at the sight of her. She looked the picture of professional beauty with her hair tied up, her chin held high, her clothing simple, soft, and clean. I clenched my hands around the latte’s mug, being careful not to crack the fine porcelain. I longed to touch her again. Ached to take her in my arms.
Come on, Maggie. You can do this.
Maggie stared out at the passing crowds. Then she squared her finely-muscled shoulders, took a steadying breath, and disabled the forcefield.
She didn’t need an open sign. The lack of forcefield was enough considering the whole front of her shop was open. And it didn’t take long for gold-givers to notice her. How could they not? She was so lovely, her smile so inviting. Blasphemous mountains, if nobody stopped to buy from her, I’d drag the entirety of the population of Elora Station in there myself until everyone else loved her the way I did.
Love.
I’d known it for some time, now. Known that my attachment to her was growing stronger, deeper, like the roots of a moon valley tree.
But it was last night, in the quiet, held-breath hush of her nearly-ready shop, that I knew that this was well beyond mere infatuation.
And if I hadn’t realized the depth of my love for her then, that kiss this morning would have educated me swiftly.
My cock was already stirring once more at the memory. Before my nap, I’d stroked myself to groaning climax, milking the knots of my cock while thinking of the slick heat of Maggie’s mouth against mine.
I focused, trying to ignore the restless ache between my thighs, my gaze finding Maggie’s shop once more.
Maggie had arranged all her baking with a keen eye, displaying everything beautifully. Cakes frosted in white and green Christmas designs stood tall on the counters. The glass cases below housed dozens of other Terratribe-style sweets – cinnamon buns, goldenberry jam-filled pastries, little cupcakes that looked like Christmas tree ornaments. There were trays of sugar cookies, too. I couldn’t tell from here if she’d baked more snowman ones, but I imagined she probably had, and the thought made me chuckle to myself.
My laughter died, my heart thundering when the first customer entered the shop.
I was certain that I was even more nervous than she was as I watched the encounter. In fact, I was probably the only nervous one. Even from this distance, I could see the easy smile on Maggie’s face, the confidence with which she served the Hadorian woman and her child. She proferred a tray of samples to them, and based on the child’s physical reaction of literally jumping for sugar-soaked joy, I could guess how well she would do today. And every day.
After that, more gold-givers descended upon the shop. I found I couldn’t tear my gaze away, no matter how repetitive the interactions became.
I sat at the café all cursed day.
All the way until 3:58pm station time, when I paid my bill (run up rather large with many drinks and snacks throughout the day) and plunged through the frothing crowds to Maggie’s bakery. She was just about to enact the security forcefield, closing for the day, when I broke into a jog, skidding to what I hoped was a charming halt before her.
“Excuse me, Miss. I know you’re about to close, but I was wondering if you had time for one last gold-giver?”
Maggie beamed, grabbing my hand and yanking me inside before enacting the security forcefield. A thrill of pride went through me when I saw her shelves almost entirely sold-out, just a few loaves of sourdough and a cake remaining.
“You know, I could buy your unsold stock at the end of each day. Put it on the pub’s dinner menu,” I said thoughtfully, glancing at what was left. “It wouldn’t be hard to use up the leftover bread, or to sell a few extra desserts over the course of the night in the restaurant.”
“Oh, that’s a great idea! Are you sure?”
