Ficly

Rowan

“Is something wrong?” Mother Rose asked, her hand on the smiling young man’s toned shoulder. “Rowan is one of our best. Is he not to your taste?”

“It’s just that I was expecting… a…”

There was a long silence.

“Oh,” said Mother Rose, eventually. “You didn’t know this about yourself, did you?”

“No. I didn’t.”

“I’m sorry. This must come as a bit of a shock.”

“Yes.” I paused a moment. “I don’t suppose there is a chance your ability is not…”

“Impossible. It never lies.”

“Oh. I see.”

“Will you still be requiring Rowan’s services?”

“Uh. No.” As if to contradict my words, my gaze lingered on his smooth, rippling chest. I had to snap my mouth shut when I realised it was hanging open. “Well. Um. Not today.”

“Of course. My secretary will provide you a full refund. If you decide to visit us again, we would be more than happy to accommodate you.”

“Thank you,” I said, awkwardly. “Should I ever require a… I shall… yes.”

Head spinning, I fled the garden.

It was an interesting beginning to the night.

View this story's 7 comments.