With my left hand, I spread my folds, and with my right, I run the head of my vibrator up and down, the thoughts of Hottie McHottenstein paving the way. No need for lube tonight.
I turn on my vibrator, the low buzzing sound suddenly loud in the quiet of my bedroom. As the storm picks up, I turn up the speed to match the increasing intensity of the raging squall. I can’t help but circle back to the thought of McHottie biting me.
I feel the tiniest flicker of guilt for typecasting him as Dracula because of his accent and coloring, but fuck it, every time I have that thought, my hips buck, and the next thing I know I am coming hard with a sudden clap of thunder and flash of lightning, peaking as the thought of his teeth piercing the skin of my neck firmly takes hold in my mind.
“Mea culpa,” I call out, repeating his Latin phrase from earlier. My legs shake as I come down from an intense orgasm, the vibrator now too much.
I am completely wiped, wrung out from the day and the best orgasm I’ve had since I don’t know when. I giggle and think to myself,really Lieshe, ‘mea culpa’? Who yells that during an orgasm?
But I was thinking of him and the way those words sounded coming out of his mouth, his lips wrapped around the syllables like a lover's caress. I grab a toy wipe and clean the vibe, throw it back in the drawer, and drift back to sleep.
When I wake, the sun is streaming through the stained-glass windows in the gables of my attic bedroom, and I soon realize the angle seems all wrong for the time of morning I normally get up at. I snag my phone to check the time, but it is dead, having not charged overnight.
Damn it, why didn’t I have an alarm clock in my room as a backup? I curse my overdependence on my phone while being secretly happy I had snuck in every last possible minute of sleep for my poor brain. I must not have got it perfectly lined up on the wireless charger.Stupid technology,I curse.
I sit up and shove my feet into my pink bunny slippers and stumble down the attic stairs to the first floor of my living space. Racing to the kitchen, I drop a pod in the coffee machine. No time to dump a six-dollar drink this morning. Better just to make my own.
Thinking I can’t do any worse than yesterday’s green sludge, I throw some oat milk in my heated frother, another indulgence, haphazardly squirt some stevia in, and sprint to the bathroom to get ready for the day.
My frizzy hair reflects last night’s events–a hot bath and self-tussle between the sheets–and today’s resulting humidity from the storm. There is nothing I can do but pile it on top of my head in a messy bun, gathering the wayward curls the best I can.
My premature gray forelock stands out against my chocolate brown hair. I love that it makes me look like the bride of Frankenstein. I pull it out of my messy bun to wisp around my face.
I wrap a handkerchief around my head and knot it on top to catch the flyaways. I brush my teeth and quickly wash my face, followed by some tinted moisturizer. A quick coat of mascara and lip gloss completes my look.
I throw an egg bite in the microwave and race to the closet to grab an outfit. The store opens in ten minutes, and I am running around like a chicken.
Trying to hurriedly pick one out, I end up settling for a pair of high-waisted jeans and a flannel button-down with the sleeves rolled back, thrown on over a Grimm logo tank top. I dig through the closet until I find my saddle shoes and race back to the kitchen.
I cuff my jeans, pour my coffee into my giant Grimm logo travel mug, shove my phone in my back pocket, and grab my egg bite from the microwave. I detest starting my day harried and out of control.
I burst out the back door, clatter down the back stairs, and dart around to the front of the store. I just about trip over Lucifer lying on the front step but manage to open just in time.
Not that I’ve ever had a customer waiting to get in, unlike Lucifer, but as a small business owner, I pride myself on running a tight ship. I head to my laptop and plug in my phone, thrilled when it charges. Guess the old green girl is giving us a go at technology today.
Hoping this sets a better tone for the rest of the day, I take a bite of my nuked egg and am intensely disappointed when it's rubbery and cold on the outside and like molten lava on the inside.
I marvel that with all of today’s technology, microwaves still can’t heat evenly. I sigh and set it down. Perhaps the two temperatures will merge, and this will be edible. Or it’s the start of another diet.
I walk through the store, running my eyes over my taxidermy friends, sipping my coffee, and smiling. Not as good as when Natalie across the street makes it, but a heck of a lot cheaper, and at least I get my order right. Perhaps I can try the coffee shop again tomorrow.
As I look around the store at the collection I have amassed, I feel a little restless, which is unusual when I’m at Grimm. Perhaps the return of my waking dreams is messing with me, or maybe it’s the anxiety that comes with the buying trips coming up. That reminds me, I need to call Jo and firm up the details of her covering the store.
I head back to the counter to check if my phone has charged enough to call her. It’s only at ten percent, so I figure I’ll let it go a little longer. While I wait for the phone to charge and any customers to come in, I hop online, cheering when my laptop works and zips me right to the online megastore.
I check out the electronic door chimes, but the modern gadget is counterintuitive to the atmosphere I have so painstakingly created in my shop. If I really think about it, there is no way a customer would have been able to get in and out without me hearing the vintage sleigh bells hanging from the doorknob. It makes no sense.
I abandon my cart and pick up my phone. I rationalize that I hate buying from the online megastore, anyway. I'd rather buy used or, at least, local. I phone Jo, but it goes to her voicemail, so I ask her to call me back and hang up.
Turning around, I find Lucifer has confiscated my breakfast. I roll my eyes at him when a noise that sounds like a jackhammer cuts through the quiet morning.
Curious, I walk out front and stick my head out the door, looking left and then right, to find a construction crew working on the two buildings next to me in the row. And that noise is indeed a legit jackhammer.
The two neighboring units have been various businesses that have fallen in and out of favor over the years. Antiques, psychics, and more recently, an insurance company have occupied them. I suppress a shudder. In a quirky and fun neighborhood like this, an insurance company isn’t very enticing for foot traffic.
I head to the sidewalk to better check out the action. There are a dozen guys in hard hats scurrying around, carrying everything from power tools to drywall and doors. It’s a frenzy of activity with some decent eye candy. I try to peer in the small basement windows at the ground level to see what is going down there.
When I see them excavating dirt, I hope they know what they are doing. I don’t even want to think about how easy structural damage could occur to the old foundation walls connecting that building from mine.
