A VISIT TO A PASTRY SHOP

After the concert, Peter and Ira walked into a nearby pastry shop, which seemed deserted. However, the shelves had the usual decadent and creamy confections. Suddenly, a girl appeared from the back and asked if she could help them.

Peter said: "We thought you might be closed already, as it is late." She replied wistfully, "no, we are still open." Then she laughed a little. "But tomorrow we are closed forever!"

Ira asked, "What has happened?"

Ingrid replied sadly. "Business has fallen off, like it has all over because of the pandemic. I got a note just today that tonight was the last. Just leave the key under the register when I close up, it said. They haven't treated me well I have not received my last paycheck. But I should not be bringing you down with my troubles."

Peter glanced at Ira mischievously. Then he asked Ingrid: "What is going to happen to all the desserts?"

"They told me not to bother with them. It was all going to be a tax write off."

Ira knew what Peter was thinking. "How much are you behind on your salary? What if we were to buy up the shop and you take the money for your back pay?"

"Done," said Ingrid. She seemed to be some sort of Scandinavian, blonde straight hair blunt cut at her shoulders. She was wearing tight black jeans and a pure white t-shirt that looked like it might be designer. She was slender enough to be a model, but perhaps just not quite tall enough. "I will help you take them to your car."

Peter hastily interjected. "Oh, we're going to consume them here. We thought we'd, ah, celebrate the end of your employment with a food fight." He and Ira wondered how that would go over.

Ingrid didn't hesitate. "I'm in. As long as I don't have to clean up. In fact, the messier the better, so they have to. But we need some privacy." She locked the front door and closed the front curtains and dimmed the light just a bit.

Peter looked at Ira, and he could see her eyes sparkling in anticipation. She looked especially lovely tonight, wearing a gold satin blouse over wet look leggings. He absentmindedly took off the tweedy sport jacket he had been wearing. Then he had a flash of an idea. "Do you have any of that wide plastic wrap used for, well, wrapping boxes?"

"Of course," Ingrid replied, looking at him quizzically. She came back in a few second with a roll of it.

"This is my idea. See that silver pole over there? You two face each other with the pole in between." The women did so, wondering what would happen.

Peter took the wrapping paper and wrapped the two together, facing one another, starting from the calves up to the chest, leaving their arms free. With the girls' eyes following him inquisitively, he went over to the display case and took out two cheesecakes, the kind with pie filling berries thickly layered on top. One was cherry, one was blueberry. "Okay, ladies, hold one of these with the berries towards your face. They assumed they would smash each other in the face, but Peter had other ideas. He put his hands on the back of both women's heads and pushed them together so each was getting a faceful of gooey dessert at the same time. He kept pressing his strong hands until their faces were submerged in the rich cheese cake. Both started laughing, as the remainder dropped to the floor. The two now had cheese cake on their tops but there was a large glob where their bodies met, about at their waists.

"Don't worry, I'm not going to hog all the action. I just had some ideas I've always wanted to do." Peter came with a tray of four pies of different kinds. He faced Ira, opened her top two buttons, revealing a silky gold bra that matched her blouse, and pushed a chocolate cream pie onto her chest, rubbing it around thoroughly. He turned to Ingrid and asked "will that be okay with you?" She nodded enthusiastically. "Oh, the blueberry cream please," she implored. She got her wish. Peter lifted the bottom of her tee shirt, and pushed it into her breasts it happened she was not wearing a bra. She wiggled from side to side as he massaged it into her chest.

The two left were big, fluffy cream cakes, one yellow for lemon, one pink for strawberry. Starting with Ira again, and as he looked lovingly into her cheerful eyes, he let her have it with the yellow cream pie, spreading it in circles in her face and then pulling the pie plate upwards so the cream covered her hair halfway to the back. He did the same to Ingrid, but in the reverse. He plopped it on top of her head, rubbed it thoroughly in her hair, then smeared it over her face.

"Time for you to play." He brought several pies to each, and from close range they laughingly smeared the various creams all over. Then Ingrid opened Ira's blouse and aimed a pie at her bra, but completed her task by scooping the handfuls left in the pie plate and putting those handfuls inside Ira's brassiere cups. The gold satin would never be the same again.

As they continued smearing the filling over one another, Peter had been in back, exploring. He had found two large containers of syrup, one a sort of golden syrup, and the other a rich fudge. He brought them over and asked Ingrid to pull her jeans from her waist. He slowly dumped the chocolate syrup down her jeans as she twisted her torso back and forth. Now it was Ira's turn. This time he pulled the shiny leggings away himself and dumped the contents downward. "Rub it in, please," she said, and so Peter rubbed the front of her pants down to her thighs. Some of the syrup was leaking out of the top, making the leggings look shinier than ever.

"Okay, now it's both your turns." Peter took a pair of scissors and easily cut through the plastic. When the girls stepped back they could see their entire fronts were covered with syrup, cream, bits of cake, what have you.

[to be continued]