Page 10 of The Bairwick Witches
Ahem, most times, but still, it’s nice to cuddle.
Sky wanted someone there with him to experience life. He didn’t want to grow older living with Beau and Marshall, as wonderful as they were. And he didn’t want to be alone, as attractive as solitude was. He also didn’t want to date, connect, or expend any more energy in that direction because two weeksof it had already worn him out. Magic could put a hottie in his bed for a single night, but it couldn’t recreate true connection or companionship; those elements in life remained naturally occurring.
The “hows” were driving him crazy, and the extended lull in the shop’s foot traffic did little to assist in distracting Schuyler’s mind from them. Answers were what he wanted, but there were none to be found.
He questioned Beau again if he was cursed. His uncle went on yet another tirade about Swamp Magic, and pointed out two facts: one, no one Schuyler formally associated with was powerful enough to curse him; and two, Estelle had been cast with Protections which covered both home and occupants, if a curse lingered upon anyone, they would have known.
Sky would have preferred a curse. Curses were great excuses. And were not at all an uncommon cause of calling out of work or missing an important event in Bairwick.You couldn’t lie about being cursed though; that, in itself, would curse you.
Maybe itwashim. Had he changed so much? Had marriage, a failed career, and life outside the mystical Bairwick altered his very being so drastically? Where’d his mojo go? How had it gone away in the first place? He questioned if he’d relinquished it in exchange for making his ex comfortable, whom he’d been madly in love with at one time, but who lacked the natural charm and presence Schuyler possessed. It pissed him off to think he may have handed away the very essence of what made himhim, just to fit some ideal version his ex wanted.
Sky wondered if life would have been like this if he were still with Devion, though he quickly returned to shelving products. The Devion road was one he could easily get lost traveling down, thinking of all the what-ifs he would ultimately feel robbed of, inevitably leaving him both sad and angry.
The gentle ring of the doorbell captured his attention, and he ceased stocking the shelves to greet the customers. Two young women in their 20s whom he knew would snicker and whisper over the selection of products. Schuyler directed the cart behind the floating counter in the center of the space and remained there. They stayed near the clitoral stimulator salves, giggling in hushed tones. Schuyler smirked.As predicted.
The bell chimed again.
He went to greet the young man as he would any customer, but was abruptly stopped in his tracks. Piercing blue eyes looked back at him from a face carved by a dedicated artisan who studied only Abercrombie and Fitch summer ads from the 2000s. The stunning young man needed only a puka shell necklace to complete his surfer aesthetic: tan, flawless skin, tousled, curly dual-colored brown and blonde hair, which fell playfully into his face. Pink, pouty lips, landing in the delicate middle of the thin to plump spectrum, smiled at him. Directly between the upper left curve of his lip and the nostril of a strong nose was a dark beauty mark which begged to be kissed.
Schuyler, stupefied by the beautiful young man, studied him from grey sneakers and tight calves to the loose tan shorts and the blue T-shirt that clung to his toned body. And when his gaze rested on that face once more, it conspired again to take his breath away. Such skin, which looked so soft and scrumptious, held not a blemish or visible pore. Bemusement was written across the man’s face.
There was a shift, the welcoming expression faded; his perfect smile went flat, and his brow furrowed. He appeared frustrated, not entering the store any further before spinning in a bratty huff and exiting.
The episode confused Schuyler. The beautiful creature had arrived so suddenly and then rushed out onto the street,where the handsome young man seemed lost and confused. He remained in front of the store, looking at his phone, looking up and down Main, seemingly trying to figure out the issue perplexing him. Schuyler enjoyed the show, the more flustered the young man became with everything around him, the more he withheld the tantrum you could see he wanted to throw: to slam a foot down or throw hands in the air and whine until someone rescued him.
The restraint was what attracted Sky.
A horrendous sound of the clicking of the teeth, followed by a curt “excuse me,” snatched Schuyler away from the show and toward his customer. The young woman set the beautifully packaged salve down on the counter and looked away, clearly embarrassed. Schuyler loved slightly uptight customers, and he responded by amping up his friendliness.
“Great choice. We make this here in the shop, all natural ingredients,” he mentioned, sliding the container into the embossed bag and enhancing her discomfort for funsies. “Do you have any questions about the use?”
She did, but he knew she wouldn’t fess up. Schuyler kept his customer service face on but rolled his eyes in his head. “Well,” he added anyway, “a little goes a long way, but a lot will go the wrong way, so use sparingly or they’ll be scraping you off the ceiling.” She was taken aback but nodded, acknowledging she understood as she slid her card through the e-reader.
“Does this stuff really work?” the customer’s friend asked with a tone suggesting she believed this was all bullshit.
“One hundred Yelp reviews on this alone, and not one of them a complaint.” He smiled in the way only those with true experience in customer service knew how, which said both “Have a great day, and fuck right off.” And he’d looked, the salvehe sold them had the little gold star on it, which indicated that it was one of the ones that was imbued with magic. Everything sold on Main Street worked, to a degree, but in order to keep commerce flowing with customers spreading the word and, most importantly, returning, fifteen percent of every item sold in Bairwick was fully enchanted.
The friend seemed unimpressed, turning up her nose at everything, and Schuyler grew annoyed. Why come into a shop focused on sexual health and wellness if you’re going to be dismissive of everything around you? He slid the salve, the receipt, and the free lube/condom pack they always included into the stylish brown bag embossed with the store’s name: Holistic Harmonies. He slid them over to the customer. She smiled, and he reminded her again that less is more as the girls walked out in a chorus of hushed giggles.
He knew they weren’t going to listen to his instructions; they were gonna slather the salve on themselves. And it would be fun, every sensation heightened, but then they’d become so overstimulated they wouldn’t be able to do anything except lay still in bed, praying for the experience to end and fearing even a breeze gliding across their pulsating clitorises.
Schuyler looked for the handsome young man, but he’d moved on.Too young for me, but by the Goddesses, he was beautiful.
He returned to his stocking; they carried everything for everyone across the beautiful rainbow. Ointments, lubes, salves, tinctures, and teas, all handcrafted by Beau and Marshall to enhance, heal, and elevate everyone’s sexual experience. They held talks on the subject, demonstrations, product release parties, and offered healings to tourists and residents alike for common ailments. Beau preached from the beginning that what they did was a service to not just their community but to thehealth of their friends and neighbors, and in that, the whole town.
And they were the only ones specializing in it. A lot of the shops on Main dealt in the same touristy trinkets and baubles; it was their individual atmospheres that spoke to the tourists, each of them picking the shops that resonated with them.
But still, Sky thought about the young man. Yes, the delicious young man had a body worth worshipping—as long as he wasn’t too vain about himself. Yes, the ass in his shorts looked like two perfect scoops of chocolate chip ice cream crying out for a spoon.
The image of the young man haunted him: so frustrated, his cheeks flushed rouge, the tremble in his lips as he pushed back the anger, his tense body, calves flexing, arms tightening. Schuyler didn’t want to use the term perfection. But that was what it was. Those little moments when a person is vulnerable and does something so natural, so casual, that it immediately entices.
Despite his eagle eye attempts between customers and tasks throughout, Schuyler never spotted the cutie again. He was unsure what he would do if the young man returned, but Sky was determined to saysomething. Every scenario he created, he also rejected, fearing any situation which would teeter him closer to the leering old man era he desperately dreaded.
At what age does that occur?
Schuyler needed to know when what he thought was a sweet, welcoming smile would come off as the horrendous glassy-eyed sexual sneer of an older queen. He’d encountered them so often in his youth, especially when he partied.
They would corner him in the bathroom, in the bar, outside when he went for a smoke in his Clove cigarette days. Did theyrealize how creepy and overly assertive they were? He didn’t want to ever come off as one of them, but the thirst over this young man was inexplicable.
