Reader's Choice

The Begining

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Adrian

Last month this started out as a project to pretty up the town. I was going to plant flowers and sell bouquets at the minimum price to get things selling and soon the town would be gorgeous. I would've admitted that this plan was a little naive,even then. Now I know was very naive. The shop (originally named Flower Fresh now Lost Lily's) Stands between a large and highly frequented tattoo parlor and a Liquor store. Compared to the neighboring shops LL'S is a squat boxy little thing, just a basic display and browsing area all flowers kept in a glass box with a humidifier hidden beneath one of the larger containers of roses. A counter for purchasing goods is placed just in front of the door leading to a back room. The room is half the size of the front room with only space for stock and a long is table to prepare the bouquets on. This seems like a big space until you put the shelves and stock in place. The only reason I seem to get any new business is due to the tattoo parlor and Liquor store. I really don't think it has a name, the tattoo parlor I mean, or at least not one that I've seen. The customers will come from the parlor and grab flowers for a girlfriend, mother, sister, who ever and then leave. That or a couple will walk in, usually drunk, and order the largest bouquet in the store, paying a fortune. This is just the way I guess. I should've just named the shop a classic, "Adrian's flowers" or some boring thing like that, now I am constantly bothered by my businesses name.

As I drift off on this train of thought the clock above the door finally clicks to 3 am. I am the only employee from noon till six am and most business happens during bad decision hours in this neighborhood, even for a flower shop. I was careful not to put a chair behind the counter so as to force me to stay awake for the three or four light night/early morning customer's who may be lucky enough to need to apologize this late at night. This tactic only works for a short time. I find myself slowly sinking and the semi collapse in my knee's jolts enough of my body back to wakefulness to turn my eyes. Just as I begin to drift off for the hundredth time that night, the bell I had tied to the door two years before gangled. Turning my eyes to the door saw a guy, probably in the first half of his 20's. Walking out from behind the counter I recognize him. I've rarely spoken to him; to tell the truth I'm a little intimidated by him. He is one of the people who rent a space at the parlor next door. He practically lives at the tattoo parlor. His right arm has a  and a thin neck tattoo that trails off blow his tee

"Hello! My name is Adrian and Welcome to Lost Lily's. How may I help you this evening?" I say in the "I work in hell but I need money" tone of voice of oh so many broke fast food workers.

Choose YOUR Track:

If you want Sweet or MIXED Go to Chapter 2

If you want SMUT Go To Chapter 3

WTF is Chapter 4