“Jenna MacLean, special delivery.”
Jenna looked up from the day-old blueberry muffin she’d been
staring at while reliving the other night’s adventure with
Sully to find her best friend Meemee grinning at her from her back
room doorway. She wore her professional, homemade courier uniform,
tan slacks and a tan shirt with a colorful nametag proclaiming Meemee’s
Courier.
Gosh! She’d been so deep in thought, wondering why she hadn’t
heard from Sully in the couple of days since their rendezvous on
the bar that she hadn’t been aware of the jangle of the bell,
signaling someone entering her shop.
“Hey, Meems, what’s up?”
“This.” She held up a small, slender package of about
seven-inches long by three-inches thick.
Meemee was an entrepreneur in Hideaway. A jill-of-all-trades. Her
self-employment jobs included a taxi service, gardening service,
as well as the town’s only courier service. “The sender
requests you open it immediately.”
“Who is it from?” Jenna asked when she found no return
address on the lightweight item.
“You’ll know when you open the package.”
Oh, really? How intriguing!
Eagerness to see who was sending her a parcel had her virtually
ripping the brown wrapping paper from the box. Who in this town
would send her a parcel and instruct her to open it immediately?
She did a mental check of the many antique purchases she’d
made. She had plenty on the way but none this small.
Jenna smiled. It had to be from Sully’s grandmother. The
other day when Jenna had brought out the yellowware set, Mrs. Hero
had clasped her hands together and fallen in love with it. Even
Mr. Hero had sparkles in his eyes, no doubt remembering the early
years of their marriage. They’d purchased the set along with
the pretty tulip quilt she’d placed on the canopy bed, the
bed in the same bedroom Sully Hero had had his way with her breasts.
God! Just thinking about him made her horny.
She redirected her thoughts back to the parcel. Had Mrs. Hero sent
her some of those fresh-baked cornmeal muffins she was so famous
for? Her mouth watered at the idea of having a couple of cornmeal
muffins instead of the stale blueberry one she’d brought along
for brunch.
Even as she opened the box, she knew it wasn’t from Mrs.
Hero. It was way too small for muffins. Her mouth literally dropped
open in shock as nestled snugly in blue tissue paper was a slim
six-inch long, one-inch wide fuchsia-pink butt plug. On the side,
written in bold black letters were the words MÉNAGE CLUB
INITIATION.
“Oh, my God,” she found herself whispering. It had
happened. She’d received an invitation to join Sully at the
Ménage Club.
“All right, confess, girlfriend,” Meemee said softly
as she too peered inside the box.
“He answered the ad.”
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