Cora sipped her chai latte as she watched autumn leaves blowing along the old brick road. A cool breeze filled her lungs with hints of wood smoke and pine trees. She understood why her grandma had picked Gatlinburg as the destination for her 70th birthday trip.
After spending the past couple of days sightseeing with her mom and grandmother, Cora was enjoying a peaceful morning alone. While those two were being pampered at a spa, she planned to visit some local artisan shops near their hotel.
The outdoor café table offered good people-watching, and Cora took her time nibbling her scone, quietly observing the area come alive with activity as businesses opened their doors.
Across the street was a charming storefront, dated in its style, but with a fresh coat of indigo paint and the words “Sparky’s Hand-Blown Glass” painted on the front window. Under the awning, a dozen glass bells in various styles and colors tinkled cheerfully in the soft wind.
Cora remembered passing by the shop a day or so ago and admiring a Halloween window display of splendid orange pumpkins with looping green vines alongside a hissing black cat.
She swallowed the last gulp of her tea and strolled across the worn brick street. A bell above the door chimed as she entered, and the warm air embraced her.
Weathered pine shelves along two walls were arranged with a wide assortment of all things glass: vases, decorative bowls, plates, candleholders, and paperweights.
A pint-sized, faux spruce tree was decorated with an incredible variety of miniature animal ornaments. Near it, large baskets were full of traditional orbs: one holding varying shades of red, white, and green, another nearly overflowing with spheres in every color of swirls, stripes, and polkadots.
The sound of voices around the corner caught her attention, and she walked a little deeper into the store to see a small crowd, maybe a dozen people, with their backs toward her. Cora stepped closer, and a willowy old man smiled as he scooted over so she could join.
In front of them, a tall woman with a thick braid of red hair was slowly rotating a long metal rod with one end inside what Cora could only describe as the eye of Mordor. The woman pulled a large glob of glowing orange lava out of the furnace and continued her slow rotation, keeping the molten glass in place on the stick.
“Now,” she turned to face the onlookers, “I’m going to give it some color.” She lifted the rod vertically, letting gravity pull the hot goo down onto a pile of crushed blue ‘gravel’. She glanced through the crowd as she explained this stage of the process, and Cora felt her chest flutter when the redhead flashed her a grin.
She was the most stunning woman Cora had ever seen in real life. Ringlets of copper hair spilled from her loose braid, framing her cheekbones and softening her angular jaw. She looked to be around forty, at least five-ten, with long legs and an ass that filled out her black jeans just right. A sheen of sweat glistened on her forehead as she reheated the glass in the furnace.
Cora’s own temperature rose along with her pulse, and she removed her jacket. The twenty-three-year-old had only admitted her sexuality to herself four years ago and finally come out to her parents two years later.
The conservative Catholics had been more accepting than Cora anticipated, but she supposed a part of them must already have known. Seeing as she had yet to bring anyone home to meet her parents, the topic remained relatively moot.
Being raised in a religious home meant sex was basically an unmentionable, beyond the basic understanding of human procreation.
Cora still got flustered by her own desires. She had kissed a couple of girls at college parties, but nothing more. Even masturbating came with a lingering feeling of embarrassment. She couldn’t make eye contact with her own reflection afterward.
Cora watched with fascination as the artisan manipulated the flattened blob with such mastery. While narrating her actions, she pinched and tweezed petals from the molten disc, soliciting “oohs” and “ahhs” from the group.
As she worked, the glass cooled, revealing swirls of blue and transforming into a beautiful trumpet-shaped flower. With a final tug of her wrist and twirl of the rod, she gave the flower a long, spiraling stem.
“And, voila!”
She held the 1000-degree glass sculpture up with thick Kevlar gloves, showing the final product off to the guests. “Now it just needs to go into the annealing oven for a couple of days. That allows the temperature to drop slowly so the glass does not end up cracking.”
As she placed the flower inside a two-door metal box, she thanked the crowd for coming to the demonstration and mentioned the shop was happy to create custom pieces by request. The murmurs turned to soft applause, and people began to disperse.
Cora lingered, watching the redhead put away tools and tidy the stainless steel workbench. Realizing that she was staring, she quickly turned around and went back toward the display area.
She was pouring over the menagerie of tiny animals adorning the little tree when a hand softly landed on her shoulder.
“Looking for anything specific?”
Recognizing the voice, Cora turned and was instantly struck by brilliant, captivating eyes. Now closer, and not wearing safety glasses, she could see a distinct ring of aquamarine whirling around an amber center.
Mesmerized, Cora said nothing. Her mouth suddenly felt dry, and a wave of adrenaline set her body tingling. Red smiled, almost knowingly, and removed her hand, letting it skim down the back of Cora’s arm.
“I'm Imogen,” she said, touching her own clavicle and drawing Cora's gaze to the swell of her supple breasts, no longer hidden under a heavy leather apron. The way her soft cotton t-shirt clung to her curves made Cora’s brain short-circuit. She jerked her gaze back to Imogen’s eyes.
“I’m Cora.” She swallowed hard, feeling her cheeks and ears burn. She brushed her dark bangs across her forehead and looked back toward the tree.
“So, Cora, is there a certain animal you are looking for?” The way Imogen said her name sent a new flutter through her tummy.
“Well, uh, my grandmother's name is Robyn, so she collects robin decor and knick-knacks, but it is actually the European robin she prefers. I'm sure you don't have one of those, do you?”
“Hmm, a European robin?” Imogen's expression changed from contemplative to curious. “I don't think I know what that looks like.” She pulled a cell phone from her back pocket and began tapping at it.
“Yes, she grew up in Ireland.” Cora let her eyes roam over Imogen, desperately trying not to ogle.
“Oh, my great-grandparents are from Ireland!” Imogen smiled broadly, her hypnotic eyes sparkling. She turned the phone screen toward Cora. “This is the bird Grandma collects?”
“Uh-huh,” Cora nodded.
“I can see why. They’re beautiful. Were you wanting an ornament, like these?” Imogen pointed to the tree.
“Oh, I, um…” Cora trailed off awkwardly, looking around the shop. “I didn’t really have anything in mind. Was just sort of browsing for Christmas presents, I guess.” She shifted her weight and pushed her hands in her trouser pockets.
“I’d be happy to make one for you.” Imogen cocked her head and smiled warmly.
“Oh no, that’s okay. I don’t need something special-” Imogen interrupted Cora with a wave of her hand.
“Sure you do,” she grinned, touching Cora’s elbow, making her tummy do a flip. “I could do it right now. It will only take me a couple of minutes. You won’t be able to take it with you today, but you could pick it up tomorrow, or I could mail it to you.”
“Really? You could make it right now?” Cora perked her eyebrows up.
“Sure! Would you like to watch?” Imogen chirped excitedly.
Cora did not need a second invitation to spend more time near Imogen. At this point, getting the robin ornament for her grandma would be a bonus. “Okay,” she replied with a smile, trying not to appear giddy.
“Yay! I love making new things!” Imogen beamed, pressing her palms together. “Come with me.”
As Cora followed her back toward the workbench, she admired her confident stride and the sway of her hips. She imagined running her hands over Imogen’s bum, squeezing her warm flesh as their mouths met.
“You can sit down there.” Imogen pointed to a stool nestled under the table. “I just need to grab a few supplies.” She disappeared around a corner.
Cora took the seat, noting the dampness of her panties as she sat down. She blushed at the feel of her own slickness and laid her jacket across her lap.
“You look hot.” Imogen suddenly reappeared carrying a small metal can.
“Huh?” Cora shifted on the stool, averting her gaze.
“It’s pretty warm in here with all the furnaces and kilns on all the time. Are you hot? Would you like a glass of water?” Imogen nodded toward a water cooler against the wall. “You can hang your jacket up there too.”
“Oh, uh, yeah,” Cora got up to stow the coat and gulp down a cup of cool water. She admonished herself for her lustful feelings, resolving that they were not reciprocated.
When she returned to the workbench, Imogen was sitting on a stool next to her own. In front of her, a tabletop torch was whirring out an eighteen-inch-long white flame.
“Put those glasses on,” the redhead instructed. Cora did as she was told, not wanting to be blinded by the torch. “Now, come and sit,” Imogen flicked her elbow at the adjacent stool.
Cora sat down slowly, hyper aware of the growing puddle in her panties. The cold steel beneath her palms grounded her, and she focused on Imogen’s gloved hands.
She held a white glass rod the size of a coffee straw directly in the flame until the end melted into glowing magma. Using a tiny metal spatula, she began to shape the molten glass into the form of a bird’s body and head.
“A still robin or a bird in flight?” She asked the question without looking away from the flame, and Cora furrowed her brow quizzically. “I should have asked before I started. Do you want a still robin or a bird in flight?”
“Oh, in flight,” Cora piped up.
“Yes, more interesting, I think. And more challenging,” Imogen smiled without turning her head.
“Oh yeah?” Cora chuckled, smiling shyly. “I’m sorry to be such a hassle.”
“No, no, don’t be silly, Cora. If it were a hassle, I would have just made the easy version without giving you the option,” she smirked with a sideways glance reinforcing her sarcasm. “Anyway, I like a challenge,” she added, making eye contact with Cora for a full second.
The virgin’s clit swelled and throbbed with need. Fearing she was going to make a wet spot on her trousers, she now wished she had kept hold of her jacket. A bead of sweat ran down her spine, and she pushed her shirt sleeves up to her elbows as she shifted on the stool.
Over the next several minutes she watched in quiet fascination as Imogen formed gray wings and added the bird’s characteristic orange chest. She fused on tiny black eyes and a beak, and a clear loop for hanging, and the little glass songbird was done. Both women smiled in admiration as Imogen turned him about for an inspection.
“Wow. I can’t believe that is the first time you’ve made one of these. It’s perfect!” Cora snapped a picture with her phone, and Imogen laughed.
“Well, to be fair, dear, I have made hundreds of birds, just none with that exact coloration. I will certainly be making more European robins. They are adorable.” She rotated on the stool and lifted her glasses, hypnotizing Cora with her tidepool eyes. “Anything for yourself?”
“Hmm,” Cora trailed off, looking back toward the display shelves. “Everything is so beautiful. But my tiny campus apartment has no space for a Christmas tree, and my cat finds great joy in breaking any fragile knick-knacks I try to display.” Her fingers traced back and forth over the bottom of the stool as she oscillated slightly.
“How about something more…functional?” Mo lifted one brow slightly, and her mouth curved upwards as she turned off the torch.
“What…like, drinking glasses?" Cora chuckled. "They’re beautiful, but I would have to mail them. They’d never survive traveling with me,” she sighed and turned back to Imogen.
“Well, I can certainly ship a set of glasses to you,” she chuckled as she rose from the stool. “But first, why don’t you browse my private selection?”
Her inflection on the last two words immediately piqued Cora’s interest. Imogen pulled off the leather apron and carried the glass robin to a different annealing oven than where she had placed the blue trumpet flower. Removing her Kevlar gloves, she nodded toward the back of the shop and said, ”Follow me.”
Every step Cora took sent vibrations through her swollen clit. Imogen’s perfect peach drew her gaze again, and she was certain the smoldering furnaces and kilns were not the only cause of the heat spreading throughout her body. The sound of men talking stirred her out of her amorous haze.
“Hey, Mo. How’s it going?” asked a muscular man with dark hair. The broadly built strawberry-blonde across from him added a cordial, “Sup, Mo.”
“Hey boys,” Imogen smiled. “Keep an eye on the shop for a while, yeah?” Both men looked from Mo to Cora, smiling politely.
“You got it,” the carrot top replied with a smirk that made Cora blush.
Suddenly Imogen stopped in front of what looked like a closet door, which she unlocked with a key from her pocket and pushed open. A flick of her hazel eyes invited Cora to enter first, and the young woman smiled curiously as she sidled past, closer than necessary.
The room was dimly lit by wall sconces casting a warm glow across dark, textured wallpaper. A plush Oriental rug and leather chaise lounge stood in the center, bordered on two sides by lacquered wooden display cases. The space stood in moody juxtaposition to the bright, colorful workshop, and when Imogen let the door close behind her, the faint sound of sensual spa music filled the air.
“What do you think?” Imogen asked with an open palm and a micro-smirk, as Cora’s eyes adjusted.
“Mo?” she queried with a smile, approaching one of the backlit display cases. Before Imogen could reply, Cora let out a subtle gasp as she looked down at the dazzling array of bespoke glass sex toys carefully arranged on velvet-lined shelves.
There were crystal-clear dildos with colorful ridges spiraling around them or protruding with rows of nerve-nudging nodules. There were several sizes of teardrop butt plugs in brilliant jewel tones, and rippling wands of graduated anal beads.
“Oh, wow,” Cora whispered, her pussy twitching and her pulse thrumming harder. “What are these?” She pointed to a grouping of shimmering glass eggs that looked like they belonged in a regal Easter basket.
“Kegal eggs,” Mo replied, brushing up beside Cora. She smelled like spice and flowers with hints of woodsmoke. Their eyes met for just a second before Cora shyly averted her gaze back to the display.
“Did you make all of these?”
“Eh, probably sixty percent or so. The eggs are Shawn’s favorite, and he makes prettier spirals than I do.” Mo pointed to a softly curved dildo that had a large violet sphere on one end and swirled into a double helix of purple and teal on the other. Cora’s mind and body were instantly curious about how the different textures would feel against her slippery folds.
“Nico makes the majority of the fantasy pieces.” Mo nodded toward the second display cabinet and tucked a lock of curls behind her ear.
“Fantasy pieces?” Cora repeated, following her gaze with curiosity, though she was pretty sure she understood. Mo arched her brows and flashed a knowing smirk suggesting she didn’t believe Cora was that naive.
Mo’s fingertips on the small of her back guided Cora a few steps to the right, and she lingered there behind her, breasts barely caressing shoulder blades. Heat pooled in Cora’s pelvis, and she stifled a shiver by inhaling a deep breath.
The toys in the second cabinet were like nothing Cora had ever seen. There were curling octopus tentacles, covered in dozens of nubbly suction cups, gold-flecked and perfectly spiraled unicorn horns, bulbous canid-inspired designs in various shades of crimson and plum.
The lowest shelf was arranged with pieces inspired by food: Dildos shaped like bumpy green pickles, smooth aubergines, and glistening yellow cobs of corn. Anal toys included rainbow-swirl lollipops, freckled strawberries, and orange carrots of several sizes. Cora snickered out loud when her eyes landed on a few plugs created to look like ‘Ring-pop’ suckers.
“Do you sell a lot of these things?” Cora turned her face toward Imogen, forgetting how close they were standing. Heat washed over her cheeks and ears, and again she broke eye contact, but leered at Mo’s collarbone and the cleave of her breasts. The redhead snickered and traced her finger over the edge of Cora’s pants.
“A few a week, occasionally more. Obviously, they’re not our ‘bread and butter’, but I am very selective about our…erotic clientele.” Mo’s breath spilled across Cora’s neck and ear, causing goosebumps and a conspicuous shiver. “See anything you like?”
Cora’s lithe body tensed anxiously, but she leaned back against Mo, letting her shoulder blades press into Mo’s ample chest. She could feel the heat of the taller woman’s crotch radiating onto her lower back.
“I, I’ve never used toys before,” she whispered, almost shamefully.
Mo’s thumbs rubbed gently over Cora’s hip bones, and she nestled her face into dark hair that smelled of orange blossom and vanilla. Liquid desire seeped into her skivvies as the young woman trembled under her touch.
So obviously aroused and adorably clueless. Her fingertips stroked Mo’s outer thighs idly.
Mo kept one hand on Cora’s ilia and slid the other up to massage one of her breasts through her bra. Her lips found the side of her neck and peppered it with soft kisses from her collarbone to her earlobe. Cora’s body melted into Mo’s.
“Have you ever had an orgasm, Cora?”
The brunette looked down, shaking her head. She had never been touched like this before. Every nerve felt electrified.
“Let me pleasure you, Cora. I can sense how much you want this.” Mo slid her hand from Cora’s hip closer to her swollen labia, causing her to gasp as a fingertip grazed the top of her slit. “I want to help you cum, Cora,” she breathed against her ear before tilting Cora’s chin to face her. "Do you want that too?”
Cora nodded, turning her body toward Imogen and laying her hands on Mo’s waist. “Yes,” she whispered, her brown eyes pleading. “Help me, Mo.”
Their lips finally met and sensual pecks soon gave way to intertwining tongues. Cora’s hands slipped under Mo’s shirt, feeling the soft warmth of another woman’s boobs for the first time.
Imogen pulled off her t-shirt and bra, tossing them onto the chaise lounge. Cora was awestruck by her beauty. She delicately pinched and rolled Mo’s long, tan nipples. So different from her own diminutive pink areola.
While Cora played with her freckled breasts, Mo slipped a hand down the front of her pants, sinking her long middle finger into a slick, wet valley. Cora moaned and jerked her hips.
“Why don’t you take off your pants, so we don’t make a mess of them?” Imogen winked. Cora’s eyes flashed with trepidation, but Mo smiled reassuringly and knelt to untie Cora’s boots. She barely had the second boot off when Mo gripped the trousers and tugged them off. The scent of ready pussy blossomed in the air.
“Oh, my!” Mo grinned and bit her lip at the sight of Cora’s drenched cotton panties. “You smell so good, Cora.”
Without removing the panties, she pressed two fingers against her dripping slit and then brought them to her nose, moaning lustily.
Cora felt herself blush in the dim room. Mo returned two fingers to Cora’s crotch but this time slipped under the gusset, making Cora gasp. Mo smiled as she gathered the slick nectar inside. Making eye contact, she sucked one digit clean, with a satisfied groan.
The brunette gulped hard, swallowing her embarrassment. The scent of her musk and the sight of Imogen sampling her nectar made her pussy twitch. She closed her eyes and let herself be lost in the moment.
Fingers hooked over the panties and pulled them down to her ankles, where she stepped out of them.
“Mmm, good girl,” Imogen praised.
Her hands cradled Cora’s bum, and she softly kissed her pubis, making Cora sigh loudly. Mo’s tongue slipped between Cora’s dripping lips and her hips bucked hard against Mo’s face. She suckled Mo’s aroused nipples with matching enthusiasm.
Imogen flicked her tongue back and forth against Cora’s swollen bud, causing her to twitch and jerk and grip Mo’s head for stability.
“Oh, oh, omigod,” panted the twenty-three-year-old.
Mo ran her hand between Cora’s slick thighs and lightly probed for her entrance. Her mouth worked the girl’s hard clitoris as she teased two fingers inside her tight, virginal slot. The brand-new sensations threatened to overwhelm Cora. Mo knew it wouldn’t take much more to push her over the edge.
She latched her mouth over Cora’s clit and thrust her middle fingers all the way into her pussy. Cora gasped at the penetration and stared down at Mo with wide eyes. The redhead pumped her wrist up and down, feeling the pliant orifice expand and contract around her digits. She curved her fingers, seeking out Cora’s g-spot while still tickling her clit.
Cora’s legs began to quiver. A heat surged through her core like never before. Her pussy contracted hard, squeezing around Mo’s fingers, and warm liquid flowed forth, coating Mo’s face and trickling down Cora’s thighs.
Mo slowly removed her fingers and stood, cradling the quaking girl against her bare chest. A minute or two passed in silent embrace as they caught their breath. The sudden ringing of a phone made them both jump.
“Oh, geez, that’s mine!” Cora scooped her pants off the floor to retrieve the phone. She silenced the ringer and glanced back to Imogen. “I, uh, have to go,” she said sheepishly. “That was…incredible.”
Imogen smiled, her face still glitening with Cora’s juices. “I’m so glad you enjoyed yourself,” she replied, putting her bra back on. She stepped behind one of the display cases and retrieved a tub of baby wipes, offering a few to Cora before mopping her own face.
The young woman redressed in a hurry and ran fingers through her hair, trying to tidy herself. Imogen approached her and placed a single finger under her chin, bringing her in for a kiss. Cora softened, and the women melted into one another, kissing for several seconds.
The cell phone began to ring again, and Cora huffed, rolling her eyes as she smashed the red button.
“Come on then, you’ve got places to be. I’ll walk you out,” Imogen smiled and moved toward the door. “You will come by tomorrow, right? To pick up your robin.”
“Oh, yes,” Cora nodded vigorously, having already forgotten the glass bird. "It’s a date!”
