Stories

Love potion

The guy told me “It only takes one drop to work,” when I bought the vial.

At home, I pulled the dropper out of the vial and squeezed three drops into a bowl, then cracked an egg and measured in a cup of flour, some sugar, chocolate chips, vanilla, and baking soda. My wife walked in the door an hour late with the same bags under her eyes and hunch in her back. She dropped her purse onto the floor as the couch caught her in its orbit and pulled. Still wearing her scrubs, she flopped down and clicked the TV on, kicking her shoes into the middle of the floor. Next thing I know I’m pouring her a glass of wine.

She took the glass and swallowed a big sip. “My back hurts from standing all day. I feel like an old lady.”

“Old lady, that reminds me, your grandma stopped by. She brought her normal cookies.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah. Might be her best batch yet. Want one?”

“No thanks. I just wanna chill out and watch our show. Sit down hon.”

“Sure.”

She put on the show and I sat down.

“How’s the baby?” she asked.

“Calm. Didn’t cry much today.”

“Mm. That’s good.”

“The baby loves your grandma’s cookies.”

“Oh yeah?”

“I want one, do you want one?”

“No thanks.” She took a sip of wine as I grabbed a cookie from the counter.

“Let’s play a game, you pretend to be the baby, okay? Here comes the cookie!” I put it right in front of her face. “It smells good, right? Open up!”

She pulled away. “I’m not hungry right now babe, I had a big salad at work.”

“More for me!” I sat down and had a nibble. The crumbs were so strong, so flavorful. I took a bigger bite, drooled, and stared at the corner of the room as the wall was swallowed up by our painting of a bear eating a fish in a rushing creek. I walked into the painting, feeling a blast of cool air hit my face as the spray of the creek kissed my legs. I stepped into the water, feeling the ice cold rocks under my feet, and I approached the bear. Up close I realized that he was just a cub. The fish dropped from his mouth into my hungry hands. “Thank you,” I said. 

“It isn’t free,” the cub said. “If you cook it for me, you can have half.” It sounded fair to me, so I walked into the kitchen, set the cast iron skillet onto the stove, and poured in a dribble of olive oil, then set the fish down. I seasoned it with salt, pepper, cumin, lemon, and rosemary. The cub said that it was the best fish he had ever had. 

I shrugged. It wasn’t as good as the cookie.

I looked over at my wife. Oh my god! She was so beautiful! How did l get a girl like her? How did I get so lucky?

“This cookie is so good,” I said.

“That’s good hon.” She raised the wine glass to her lips.

“Wanna make love?” I asked.

She paused.

“I’m just kidding,” I said.

She tilted the bottom of her glass up, draining it, so I went and poured her another.

The last real cowboy

I remember that evening well, through the shop’s window I saw the sun set as a lazy cloud of dust rolled in. Inside was just me and a customer, an old man who came looking for a piece of lady’s clothing.

“What for?” I asked.

The man’s hand flew to his piece. “The hell do you mean ‘what for?’ For a lady friend of mine! So that I can watch her dance, and get hard!”

I shrugged. “Whatever you say, cowboy.”

His voice rose. “I am a cowboy! I’m the last real cowboy!”

I grabbed the box of ladies clothes. There wasn’t much, just a dress and a brazier. I set it down on the counter in front of him. “I don’t care one way or the other.”

“Don’t care? Maybe you’re the fairy! I’m no fairy!”

I put my hands up in surrender. “Gee whiz mister, I believe you.”

He cursed under his breath and turned his attention to the box of cloth. He made a real show of taking out the brazier and squeezing it like there were real breasts in there. “Oooh, ahh,” he said, but he kept looking at me to see if I noticed what he was doing. He grabbed the dress and grabbed the back of it like there was a butt inside of it. “I like this one. Heh.”

“Alright, you want to buy it?” 

He took out a handful of coins from his pocket. “I’ll take em’ all! My lady friend can try 'em all on as I sit there touchin myself and lookin at her.”

I counted his coins.

“One more thing,” the old man added. “Have you got any penis holders? My package gets real strung up if I ride my stallion for too long.”

“Of course.” I grabbed him our smallest penis-holder and set it down on the counter.

He stared at the thing and swallowed. “Oh, yeah...” He grabbed between his pants and adjusted something. A bit of drool fell from his mouth and plopped onto the counter, the sound of which snapped him out of his trance.

He stammered, “I zone out sometimes, in my old age and all. I need this for my package because it gets chafed up when I ride my stallion too long.”

“It’ll be seven coins,” I said.

He paid up then dropped his pants and tightened on his penis-holder.

“Shame to keep my junior all locked up, eh?”

I shrugged.

He tossed the dress and brazier into his bag. “My lady friend is gonna look real good in these.”

“Take care mister,” I told him.