This preview is part of a collection of ten erotic, romantic short stories on the edge of exhibitionism. An amuse tush, if you will, for adult audiences only.
Each story stands on its own and can be read independently, exploring almost public sexy encounters. The full collection of 10 short stories is available for sale now.
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On our way out of our bed and breakfast that afternoon, I grabbed a quilt from our room and we picked up a prepared picnic basket from the kitchen. Our hosts had included freshly baked bread, a trio of local cheeses, fruit, homemade jam, nut spread, miniature sweet cakes, and, of course, a bottle of wine – a product of the fields we walked toward now.
The working vineyard and winery had converted a couple of their buildings to guest rooms. Their kitchen was stocked with produce grown in the greenhouse behind the production facility and tasting room. Breakfast and dinner were served in the restaurant, a beautifully renovated barn with drop lights hanging from the ceiling over a little more than a dozen tables. Though we’d been told all the rooms were booked, the property was large enough that we’d rarely crossed paths with the other guests outside the designated meal times. Many of them had likely taken the day to venture to other vineyards and attractions in the area.
We proceeded along the rows of grapevines, passing a couple of guests on their way to the secluded pool just up a fork in the path, where I expected we’d take a dip later. I tucked the quilt under my arm and tipped the brim of my hat against the sun as we dipped in between a break in the wiring that held up the grapevines. While the bundles of tiny, dark blue grapes hanging on either side of us looked appetizing, we’d learned from our hosts on our welcome tour the day before that they were too bitter to be enjoyed in their current state.
I pointed ahead to where the vines ended at a wide oak tree casting an almost perfectly round shadow on the ground. “How about over there?”
“Looks perfect,” he said, taking my hand.
Our steps kicked up the earthy scent of dirt while the bees and other pollinators quietly buzzed about their work around us. A bench came into focus at the base of the oak tree as we neared, the shade welcoming us in from the heat. I unfolded the quilt and snapped it open, laying it out near the edge of the tree’s canopy where speckles of sunlight peeked through the gaps between the leaves. He set down the basket and opened the flaps, taking out each container and arranging them neatly over the quilt.
I knelt next to him and popped a strawberry into my mouth, closing my eyes and reveling in the soft breeze over my flushed skin. When I opened my eyes, I noticed that he was watching me with a smile. I leaned in to kiss him, sharing the tart sweetness between us.
We poured the wine and sampled most of the basket items before I noticed a path tucked away from the other side of the tree toward a line of tall hedges and a wrought iron gate.
“What do you think is over there?” I asked, leaning into him and pointing to the gate.
He followed my gaze and blinked. “Over where?”
“The gate over there, between the hedges.”
He looked back and turned to me, confused. “What gate? I just see the hedges.”
“What…” I stared at the gate and back at him – and then he grinned. “You!” I exclaimed and pounced, pinning him on his back. I tried to keep a straight face as I beat on his chest without much force, but I couldn’t help my giggles as he laughed. “Stop messing with me!”
“Okay, okay.” He gasped for breath. “What can I say? It must be a secret garden.”
“I swear…” I started shaking my head, but we dissolved into another fit of laughter. “Well, whether you see it or not, I’m going to check out this secret garden.”
I grabbed my hat and stood, making a show of dusting off my dress before striding away. He caught up to me just as I reached the gate, which had been propped open on one side, the metal intricately sculpted and twisted into flowing shapes.
“They mentioned that they had a rose garden,” he murmured, his body close to mine, his fingers coming to rest at the curve of my lower back.
Inside the gate was a second line of hedges, not as tall as the exterior but taller than both of us. The interior hedges opened up at four equidistant points around an oval garden. Four rose bushes the size of trees adorned the middle of the garden, while knee-high hedges separated other sections, all with differently colored varieties of roses from white and red to peach and purple. The soft, sweet scent of the blooms filled the air with a dreamlike effect – unlike the breeze flowing through the fields, the air was stilled as if by a silent force field.
“It’s beautiful,” I whispered. Anything louder felt too vulgar.
That’s when I realized that I’d wandered off into my thoughts and he was nowhere to be seen. I called his name but my voice didn’t carry far. I glanced behind the nearest hedge and then another. Despite knowing I was safe, the garden had an unreal feeling that made me nervous – as if I’d stepped through to another world after all.
I rushed to the other side of the clearing and swung around the far hedge only to collide with him. He reacted by opening his arms and absorbing the impact. We tumbled onto the soft grass among a flurry of loose rose petals…
This is the end of the preview.
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