The Fruit Basket

It is July-and I sit, freshly bathed, my hair up wearing only black ruched panties from Vic's.

Because it has been so hot, I have turned my lusts away from the usual baked goods. Of course, I am still hopelessly in love with anything even vaguely resembling a cupcake, especially a chocolate one with white icing. Or a HUGE mint head of frosting. I believe that you, my dear readers are entirely cognizant of that, lo se!

Here it is: A giant watermelon basket that is as big as a bathtub has been carved, especially for me. My feet santized, I step onto a glass elevator that is only a square of glass. It lifts me up and over to where I can step into the basket. The air is super hot and the sky is dark, save for a million stars.

The basket is filled with tiny balls of watermelon, honeydew melon, red seedless grapes, white seedless grapes and kiwi slices. I lie down in the sea of fruit, wiggling my bottom so that I can get comfortable. Ah, that's it! And I eat the luscious and cool fruits. The watermelon is crisp and juicy and the juice fills my mouth. I swallow and bite into a white grape, the firmness of the grape and the cool juice it provides is refreshing and sweet. The cantaloupe is almost too sweet, like the red grapes that practically burst with chi. Last, are the kiwi slices. Firm and juicy, I plaster the kiwi onto my bare breasts- only to have Captain Reynolds appear on the glass elevator.

"Hilda," he steps into the basket.

"Captain," I give him a kiss.

He cups my left breast and eats the kiwi covering it. "Those are too fine to be covered." He then takes the kiwi off the right breast, brings it to my mouth and feeds it to me with his mouth. Then we kiss, deeply.

He runs his hands over my bottom and his mouth over my stomach. "Have a grape, that's what those are, right?" he picks up a red one and pops it into my mouth."

"Don't they have grapes in your century?"

He laughs. "Maybe, but I've only heard about them. This is the first I've ever seen them."

"What about watermelon?" I pop a ball in his mouth

"Oh yeah. But we call it Pinksweet, grows abundantly on some planets." He picks up a ball of watermelon and places it on my stomach and then eats it. "Your skin makes for a right fine plate, my Hilda."

He then rolls in next to me so that we are both on our backs, staring up at the starry sky. I cuddle in next to him, the coolness of the fruit is refreshing next to the heat of the air. I reach down and pick up a ball of watermelon and pop it in my mouth and then I give the Captain more grapes. He seems to like them.

We lie in silence looking up at the stars. The air is hot and heavy with the scent of the fruit.

"I'm drowsy," I tell him.

"Let's go," he pulls me up and we step, naked onto the glass elevator and then we are in a cool bath-and finally, back at manor, where we occasionally like to stay.

The sheets are cool and we gratefully slide in and go to sleep.

I remain,

Hilda Stinson