It Mustard Been Love

"Why did it have to be him??"

  This same sentence played through his head over and over. Working for the local market wasn't the worst job in town. The only black cloud on this otherwise decent job was that they decided to employ a delivery system. It usually paid pretty well as far as small town jobs go. The neighbors all knew each other and competed on giving the best tips. Only one delivery was dreaded by all.

     Miss Winslow was the young widow who had retired to the small town after losing her rich husband in a terrible hoverboard crash. The whole town knew it had happened. It even made the local paper just for sheer oddity, but none knew all of the details. She had taken her fortune and purchased a house in the definitive middle of nowhere. Trying to escape all of the negative attention everyone imagined.

     But this wasn't the reason no one enjoyed this run. She was the only person in town who didn't believe in tipping. She may have had a fortune, but she was very determined to keep it that way.

    So here he was, driving to a home that was much too large for one person to live in, on a road no one else lived on, up a driveway that had to be at least 3 miles long, to deliver one, single bottle of mustard to a lady who probably didn't need mustard that badly.

    His boss had stopped him on his way out and said ,"Listen, Matthew. I know this isn't a run you're looking forward to, but Miss Winslow is a valued customer who has spent a lot over the course of her few months here. We need to keep her happy so when she decides to spend a lot, she will have us on her mind for our stellar customer service."

       The windbag. He admitted it made sense from a business perspective, but it still seemed like an exercise in futility. She didn't have her eye on a small town grocery store. She was in need of a hiding place. He hoped his boss's pipe dream would pan out, but didn't hold his breath.

     As Matthew neared the house, he tried to put his game face on. He could be charming enough if you didn't make eye contact. That's where the bitterness lived. 

        He parked near the front. In an attempt to look more professional, he got out of the vehicle and walked around to get the delivery out. Although, somewhere in the middle of the process, he realized just how silly it must look for him to only remove the one small paper bag with a bottle of mustard in it. Dear god why??

     He walked up the steps to the front door. This place was a bit much. Two stories at least and surely big enough to house a pro football stadium inside. Who really needs this much house? And lion statues? In the middle of Nebraska? Well he didn't have to live in it so whatever.

   .

    She walked in carrying the tea and sat it on the table. "There you are sir. Fresh tea."

      "You can call me Mat if you'd like", he offered,"I mean i am drinking tea in you're home and sir is not a term generally used to describe me"

       "Alright Mat. You may call me Elizabeth." She said in return. It was strange. They talked for a good while. She asked about his job with what seemed like actual interest. She's told him of living in this large house and how it wasn't the same without her husband.

     Finally, noticing the time, he realized he needed to get back to his amazing job. Realizing then, that he had sat here the whole time without remembering what he did with the damn mustard. He tried to stand, found the bottle beside his foot as he put all of his weight on it. The force managed to pop the lid off of the container spilling the mustard into the bag.  He was off balance and feel back into the seat. He smelled the mustard and panicked. If it damaged anything he couldn't afford to replace it on his salary. He grabbed the bag. Luckily it hasn't leaked out though the paper bag threatened to give up on is ability to contain the mess.

       He looked over at Elizabeth who was attempting not to laugh. The effort was applaudable but if it did happen to anybody else he was sure that he would be laughing his ass off.

      "Well we don't charge extra for the entertainment. Hope you enjoyed it"

   She really did seem entertained. And then. The brown bag gave up the fight, spilling mustard into his lap. This wasn't happening. He was horrified. It all happened in slow motion. Here he was. Covered in mustard. If he stood it would get everywhere. He couldn't even look at Elizabeth's face. A simple $2 delivery turned into this. He just sat there. Thinking about his life decisions. But then, she busted out laughing.

"I'm sorry. I can't help it. The storm of emotions on your face was something out of a movie. Oh my. Oh. I can smell the mustard for sure."

At this point he thought she might offer some help or at least a towel but she just sat there like she was watching the mustard settle on him. She reached over and ran one finger through the escaped condiment. She then proceeded to taste it.

"Oh my. That IS good"

She ran her fingers through it one more time and then dabbed it on his neck. She then pressed her lips to it and begin cleaning it off with her tongue.

Was this really happening? There's no way? This isn't happening....he couldn't even react. One more dab of mustard and the other side of his neck was made to match. Finally, running her finger through the yellow puddle, she touched it to his lips. Then their lips touched. She was determined to retrieve every drop from his mouth.

Hec managed to come back tov earth for a moment,"Elizabeth what are you doing? I've known you for like an hour. This is all very sudden and confusing."


She just smiled and began spreading the mustard all over him. Her hand went up his shirt.

"You're going to need a change of clothes"

She pulled the shirt off of him. Gently making sure each nipple was mustard free.
There was no going back now. He just laid back and went along. Not even flinching when she undid his belt to check the rest of him for mustard. He hadn't noticed before that she'd been wearing a yellow dress. Has this been planned? Now all thoughts vanished as she removed the mustard from his lap. When did she get his pants off of him?

Now, she climbed on top of him. There was mustard all over both of their bodies and both of them were trying their best to make sure it was thoroughly removed. She reached under her to move him inside her. Had she not been wearing panties. Again all thought left. As she continued cleaning the mustard from his lips and neck, she rocked her hips back and forth. They continued until suddenly everything felt very warm. She vocalized the pleasure as if the warmth didn't already betray that she'd erupted with joy. Feeling that warmth caused him to add the finishing touches. They both attempted to catch their breath now. The entire parlor looked like a crime scene. They had managed to get the mustard most everywhere.

They laid there I silence.

"I'm sorry", she finally said,"I have been very lonely. I didn't mean for it to turn into this. I just really have a thing for mustard. It does something to me. Turns me into a bit of a deviant"

He could only stare.  he said they're waiting to wake up because there was no way that really just happened.

" I mean I can't say I started out my day yet thinking that I was going to have sex with a beautiful woman covered in mustard.  but I can honestly say it's been the most interesting day I think I've ever had"

She smiled at him and they both got up. she got him out some extra gym clothes that she had kept in her closet that had belonged to her late husband.  as he got to the front door and they started to part ways she handed him a tip.  kind of made him feel like a bit of a prostitute but it was still a landmark event.  she kissed him on the cheek and they made their goodbyes and he went back to work.


A week later he went to work still not believing the events that unfolded. As he walked in his boss stopped him.

"I need you to make this delivery for me. None of the lip. It's for Miss Winslow. She needs 5 more bottles of mustard." 


He smiled. "Don't worry sir. I'll take care of this."

   
© The Moonlight Bard