Total pages in book: 25
Estimated words: 23054 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 115(@200wpm)___ 92(@250wpm)___ 77(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 23054 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 115(@200wpm)___ 92(@250wpm)___ 77(@300wpm)
“Oh, does it have to do with the church next door?” Tanya asks, her fingers flashing at the cactus again. “They’re so freakin’ pushy, I swear! I stopped by for a service three months ago, and they keep calling me non-stop. It’s really annoying. Sometimes I try to sneak into our building without them seeing me because it inevitably means a twenty minute conversation about why I haven’t come around recently.”
The three of us share another look.
“No, it’s not the church,” I say in a slow tone before fixing the pretty blonde with a look. “But it does have to do with religion, actually. Your religion, Tanya.”
The curvy girl looks mystified.
“My religion? I’m not really religious. I’m more spiritual. I only popped into the church next door once, and that was ages ago, so I wouldn’t say that organized religion is really a part of my life.”
“Right,” Carl says in a smooth tone, his handsome features giving nothing away. “We’re talking more of a pagan religion, actually. Wiccan perhaps? Or a personal practice that you follow late at night?”
Tanya’s fingers go still as she stares at us. Her face goes sheet white, and her pretty pout drops open a bit.
“You know,” she whispers.
Carl grins, his blue eyes flashing.
“We know,” he confirms. “And we’d love to discuss it with you, sweetheart. Now tell us—what exactly are you doing with the fruits and vegetables you grow on our roof?”
Tanya’s mouth opens, but no sound comes out … and yet we’re going to get an answer, come hell or high water.
4
Tanya
Oh shit, what do I do? I stare at the three men surrounding me. They’re gorgeous, but right now, their good looks are no relief. Instead, Chris is looking at me with a smirk on his handsome features, while Carl and James wait expectantly, broad forms still. Oh shit, oh shit, what have I gotten myself into?
After all, I thought my moonlight rituals were private because they were taking place at 3 a.m. I also thought I was safe because I only considered the surrounding high rises – namely, that there are none. I never thought that somehow, my downstairs neighbors would catch on!
But now, here we are. Chris, James, and Carl look pointedly at me, their blue eyes never deviating from my features, and I feel boxed in. Should I lie? Should I pretend that they’re hallucinating? But clearly, that’s not going to work because they know about my private ritual, somehow or other, and now, it’s time to explain.
“Well, you see, I’m a very spiritual person,” I begin in a stammer. “Nature speaks to me.”
“I’ll say,” Chris says with a mischievous glint in his eyes. “And what does she say?”
I stare at him.
“You know, I don’t appreciate your flippant attitude.”
He immediately looks repentant.
“Sorry, sweetheart. I didn’t mean it that way. Go on. I’ll keep my mouth shut.”
I nod, my fingers fidgeting with the pliers in my hand. My face feels hot. Hell, my entire body feels hot as I open my mouth to try and explain again.
“Well, you see, I’ve always been very appreciative of everything Mother Earth has to offer. She provides everything that we human beings enjoy, with the help of Father Ocean, Brother Sky, and Sister Wind. I believe that all natural objects have a spirit, and that it’s important to show your appreciation and to commune with them on a regular basis.”
Carl nods, his blue eyes non-judgmental.
“And does your spirituality have a name?”
I squirm a bit.
“Not really. It’s just something that I practice on my own. You know, as a personal meditative practice.”
James clears his throat.
“Actually, it seems to involve much more than meditation. It seems to involve a lot of pleasure, if not straight-up ecstasy, Tanya. Tell me: do you nurture the fruits and vegetables in our garden for religious purposes? Or do you actually consume the “fruits of your labor,” so to say? Excuse my pun.”
I choke a bit.
“No, of course I use our communal garden space to enjoy fruits and veggies the normal way. I eat them! I don’t just use them to … to…”
“To fuck yourself?” Chris finishes with an impish grin.
I shake my head.
“Well, yes. I mean, no. What I mean is that I definitely eat the fruits and veggies that I grow. For example, the chips that I brought for our HOA meeting tonight. They’re from our garden.”
The men stare at the bowl of carrot and cucumber chips before us. They look good, actually. I baked them this morning, and the green and orange circles are vibrantly-colored, with a satisfying crunch when you bite into them.
But then, Carl shoots me an odd look.
“Are these from the veggies you played with last night?”
Oh shit. I’ve been caught. I knew I never should have opened my big mouth.
“Well, sort of,” I say quickly. “I mean, what did you see last night?”