[M4F] Read My Tulips [Strangers to Lovers]

Transcript

Why are you wilting, hmm? Did I mix your soil wrong? Did the new pot-timer over-water you? Hmm, if only you could actually talk.

Oh, hello again. Good to see you. How did the bouquet go over? Good, good.

And I suppose you told some of your friends about it as well. Because I've gotten a small handful of calls and emails asking about the fuck-you-flower bouquet since you started coming in. No, no, don't be sorry, it's hilarious and good for business.

Although my greenhouse supplier is getting a little curious about why I need to reorder so many orange lilies. Indeed. But please, I've been warning everyone else who asks, and I'm telling you now, don't give bouquets with lilies to anyone with cats.

No matter how much you may want to show your contempt without saying it out loud, they are very poisonous to felines and they don't deserve that. Even just licking the pollen off their fur can make them sick enough to die. So please, please be careful, hmm? Well I'm just making sure there aren't any innocents caught in the crossfire.

So how can I help you today, honey? Oh ho ho, congratulations. Considering how many of my, um, specialty bouquets you've been giving to co-workers and clients, a job switch seems very wise and welcome.

A farewell bouquet for your soon-to-be ex-manager. Oh ho, sweetheart, I love the spiteful streak in you. A little slice of shadow beneath her beautiful face, like a pretty little sundew.

It's a carnivorous plant, like the Venus flytrap or pitcher plant. It has flared leaves and petals covered with sparkling droplets of sweetness, sticky and waiting for an unsuspecting little morsel to get stuck, and then it rolls them up and dissolves them. Brutal, but beautiful, like my favorite customer.

Oh, empty compliments aren't my style, honey. Words and flowers are conveyors of intent, and I don't want to be misinterpreted. Not when stepping wrong would get me a strongly worded bouquet delivered to my door.

Even worse if you make me create it myself. Alright, alright, I'll behave, for now. Keep burrowing into your collar like that and I might start calling you Mimosa pudica instead.

Commonly called the sensitive plant or the touch-me-not, tends to curl up and hide from any kind of attention. Ha! Look at that glare! Okay, okay, I'll take it back.

I'll be nice. So, do you have a specific color scheme or particular sentiment in mind for this little bit of floral malice? Hmm.

A nepo-baby that hates yellow. Hmm. I think I have just the flowers.

Hey, do you want to come to the back, chat with me a while while I put this thing together? Well, you're the only customer in here. My part-timer is on lunch and, oh yeah, it's my shop, so I can do whatever I want.

Come on then, Missy. Get your cute little self behind this counter and I can show you where all the magic happens. I know, right? Like if a botanical garden and a butcher shop had a baby.

Yeah, it's a little chilly. It helps keep the flowers from wilting. We shouldn't be back here long enough for it to be too much of an issue, though.

I just need to gather a few things before I can start getting the flowers together. Let's see. Uh, yes, I need this.

And, ooh, perfect. Take that, and there it is. I'm looking for you.

Oh. Hmm, yes. Hmm.

Wrapped paper, pruning scissors, ribbon, ointment for the leaves. All the little bits and bobs need to make sure this fuck-you is as pretty as possible. Hmm.

Hey, it may be meant to be saying some not-so-nice things, but I always make sure that all my bouquets are as stunning as possible. Can't let anyone think that the intent is in the appearance instead of the secret language of flowers. Ugly bouquets don't get put on the front desks for those in the know to laugh about.

Hmm, exactly. Now let's get this started, shall we, sweetheart? Yeah.

So, childish nipple baby that hates yellow. Obviously, we have to start with a large handful of buttercups. Innocuous little things.

But a marked indicator of immaturity and ingratitude. Plus, they're considered an invasive weed, and thus, not very classy by those of us in the know. Ha ha ha ha! Just like spoiled little punks that try to run daddy's business like it's theirs.

Very good, honey. Next, a few yellow carnations. Here's a tip for the future, honey.

If any partner or potential partner gives you these, break up with them, because they're planning on doing it, and you want to beat them to the punch. Rejection, disdain, and disappointment. Perfect for a farewell from the toxic energy of your workplace.

And now, some yellow petunias. Beautiful, but straight to the point. Translating into deep-running resentment, anger, and harbinger of trouble.

Can you hand me a few of those green sprigs, sweetheart? Trying to fluff this out a little bit. Hmm.

Your fingertips are a bit chilled already, honey. Do we need to step back out to the front? All right, well, if you're sure.

Come closer, then. I've been told I'm like a human space heater, and I promise not to bite. Not hard, anyways.

Ah, and that blush will help you warm up, too. There you go. No, you aren't in my way.

Do me a favor. Can you trim these stems just a little bit for me? Yeah, just like that.

Scissors at an angle. One or two stems only. Two stems only.

And snip. Perfect. Mm-hmm.

Oh! Sorry. I just.

.. Obviously, because of all the flowers and damp soil, I didn't notice it before, but. ..

Your perfume. It's very nice. Bright and green and fresh, like a kitchen garden beside the ocean.

Herbaceous and sharp, without all the chemical burn that usually sits beneath. And it complements a lot of these flowers perfectly. Now, this next one is a bit of a gamble, because it's somewhat well-known for its message.

So we can leave it out if you want. Butterfly weed is a flower of warning. A message of, you're fucked around, now you're gonna find out.

A bit heavy-handed. But it pairs so well with the next one. A yellow cyclamen.

It means separation. A clean break. A flippant farewell and a middle finger raised as you walked out the door.

I completely agree. Even if they do figure it out, it's not gonna change anything. And you can always claim ignorance.

Plead the fifth, and don't give them my number. Never met you before in my life. Order came through online and was picked up by a courier.

Perfect. Alibi and cover story established. Now let's finish this beauty up, yeah? Now, for a splash of color amongst the glaring yellows and greens, a small handful of, yep, you guessed it, wrath, sweetheart.

Orange lilies. Hatred, contempt, and too much pride. But also, a renewal for you.

A rebirth and a reclamation of your soul and self. Some red tulips as well for aggression and wrath. Hell have no fury in all that, right? A few more filigree bits.

Some finessing with these petals. And now, the finishing touch. A large yellow rose right at the center.

Perfect for a greedy coward that needs everything handed to them on a silver plate, and has never been told no in their life. How does it look, honey? Do you think that this is going to get your message across in the obscure and passive way you were hoping?

Perfect. Do me another favor. Hold this, just like that.

Not too hard or you'll crush the leaves, but just cup your fingers softly around them so you can get this wrapping paper to lay right. Dammit. No, no, no, nothing's wrong.

I just got a few stems caught and bent. Just keep holding it like that and I'll just get this arm around you so I can finesse them back down into place. Hmm, you're shivering, honey.

Chill finally getting you? We'll be done soon, so you can get out of this fridge and back into the sunshine like you deserve. Not cold? What could it possibly be? No need to get defensive.

I just so happen to know that I have a certain effect on women. Hey, now, don't turn into a shrinking violet on me. I'm only flirting.

Nothing more, I promise. I won't push your boundaries. Well, it seemed like that's all you were interested in.

Something light and fun whenever you came in. Which is fine with me. Your visits have been the highlight of these past few weeks, if I'm being honest.

Well, I mean, I did give you my personal phone number and my email address, telling you that you could message or call at any time, but you never reached out. I. ..

Yes, that was me trying to. .. I don't know, take it to the next step, move whatever this is to the next level, see if you were interested in more than a few minutes of banter.

Kind of oblivious, aren't you, honey? It's okay. Just kind of makes you cuter to me.

Does that mean I can finally kiss you? Or is that too much too fast? Well, hi there.

Come on, sweetheart. Follow me. As much as it might be visually pleasing to lay you out amid all my flowers and ribbons, that table is metal and cold as fuck, and none of the doors to this room lock.

My office, on the other hand. .. Hey, hey, breathe for me, beautiful.

Nothing has to happen. The kisses were. ..

well, frankly, they were incredible, and I'd love to do more of that and more. .. more than that, but there's no rush.

I know you're interested now, and that's more than I could have hoped for a few minutes ago. I mean it, honey. We can get your flowers all set, send you on your way, and maybe pick this up another time, perhaps after dinner or some coffee.

I cannot be held responsible for how my dick is reacting to you pressing against me like that, though. I am trying to be a gentleman, ask you on a proper date, and try to think of something other than how fucking good you feel like that. Fuck, you can't just do things like that, sweetheart.

My poor heart can't take that excitement. I'm like you'd be in any better shape if I slid my hand down your pants, apropos of nothing. Fuck, of course I like it, honey.

Your fingers are just the right side of too cold, can't you see the goosebumps on my arms? Just like that. Fuck! Right under the tip.

God, your hand feels good. God, my legs are gonna give out soon. Oh, you feel too damn good.

Oh, fuck. Oh, Christ, how could I ever call you a mamusa pudica? You just keep surprising me, honey.

Oh, kissing me, touching me. And now sliding down to your knees, I start unbuckling my pants with that almost feral smile on your lips. No, no, I am certainly not complaining.

I am not doing anything that might make you stop unless you actually want to stop. And please don't want to stop. Holy shit.

Oh, your mouth. After the chill of your fingers, I can't. ..

Oh, God. Oh, it's so fucking hot. How is it so hot? How are you so fucking hot? Shit.

Oh, fuck. Oh, God, God. Oh, fuck.

Oh, you take it so deep. Oh, Christ. Fuck.

That's right, honey. Oh, just like that. Oh, nice and steady, honey.

Oh, good Lord, that feels good. Oh, shit. Oh, fuck, I can feel the back of your throat, God damn.

Oh, and the way you look, just like that, just like that. Fuck, slow. Oh, fuck me.

I would love it if I could put my hands in your hair, sweetheart. But I can't. Not this time.

I've been digging around in dirt all day and you can very much tell when you look at my hands. I'll touch your skin, maybe a little bit of your clothes if I'm careful, but your hair, fuck. Your mouth, inside you.

Oh, sorry, honey, not without a thorough scrubbing. Fuck. No, no, that doesn't mean you can.

.. Fuck. How did you.

.. Your throat, oh, fuck. Have mercy on me, gorgeous.

You look and feel too damn good. And the way you're laughing around my cock, I just. ..

I just can't take it.