"Heeeey! Come on in!" Bramley Applewhite cheerfully called out, swinging the door of the apartment wide open.
"Hey! Thanks," Ann MacIntosh smiled, entering the cool, dimly lighted living room.
The petite red head looked around; the furniture looked plush, inviting. Everything was soft, muted colors but was not drab. Even the framed painting over the sand colored velour couch was soft and muted.
"I swear, it is just so hot out there," Ann said.
"Yeah, but it's a dry heat," Haralson Apple said from the depths of the kitchen.
"Hot is hot, whether it's dry or not," Bramley retorted.
Ann wondered how they managed to make the apartment dim; the late summer morning sun was bright with not a cloud in the sky.
"Come in, come in, sit, Hare's in the kitchen making us some canapes or as normal people call them, finger food," Bramley said, shutting the door of the apartment.
"Some people also call them hors d'oeuvres," Haralson called back.
"Or, the majority of people in the world just call them appetizers," Bramley teased, settling onto the couch next to Ann.
She smiled as Haralson entered the living room, tray in hand. With a flourish, he placed the tray onto the table. He placed some cloth napkins next to the tray.
"The ones on the left," Haralson said, indicating what side of the platter he was referring to, "Are smoked salmon; the ones in the middle are an olive spread and the ones on the right are a humus. Care for a drink?"
"Um, what do you have?" Ann asked, deciding to try a smoked salmon canape.
"Sparkling water, um, mimosa, lemon spritzers, oh! Oh! He makes the absolute best muddy blary in the world..." Bramley enthused.
"Muddy...? Sounds like you've already had a few," Ann giggled.
"I use this cayenne vodka," Haralson called out.
"I just love your hair; how long you been growing it like that?" Bramley said, even combing her fingers through a few strands of Ann's ankle-length carrot orange hair.
"Pretty much all my life," Ann said. "My mom cut it once when I was like five or six and we both cried and cried and we never cut it since."
"Or, I can make us a batch of apple of my eye," Haralson suggested as he walked back to the kitchen.
"Ooh, could you?" Bramley begged, helping herself to a smoked salmon canape.
"Apple of my eye?" Ann asked.
"It's this drink he made up," Bramley enthused, still playing with Ann's hair.
"Some green apple vodka, some apple brandy," Haralson called out from the kitchen. "Some cinnamon liqueur and apple juice."
"He freezes the apple juice," Bramley confided. "It's the perfect summer brunch drink."
Any conversation was cut off as a large capacity blender ground through the chunks of frozen apple juice. A moment later, the blender whined to a stop and Ann tried a humus canape. She looked up when Bramley twisted to pull her feet under herself on the couch.
Bramley Applewhite apparently had some Asian heritage; her dark eyes were almond shaped and her knee-length hair was straight and shiny black. Her face was narrow, her nose slim and pointed, her lips thin.
Just like Ann, Bramley was petite; Ann guessed they were both roughly five feet in height. Both were also slender. Ann hated her own 24A chest, 22 inch waist, and 25-inch hips. If she had to be short, cursed with pale skin, red hair, and an abundance of freckles, couldn't she at least have been blessed with large breasts? Blessed with a sweet bubble butt?
Bramley also seemed to have a small chest, slim waist, and narrow hips. Her skirt reached to mid-thigh, exposing slim, golden brown legs.
Ann tugged down the hem of her sundress but could only pull it down to mid-thigh. When Bramley had invited her over for Sunday brunch, Ann had not known what to wear so decided on her cutest sundress, a pale yellow dress with light blue flowers and her leather sandals. She'd not given thought to just how short the dress was but now struggled to preserve her modesty.
"Here we are; an apple of my eye for the apple of my eye," Haralson said, bringing two drinks into the living room.
"Apples," Bramley giggled, accepting the drink.
"Hmm?" Haralson asked.
"Apples. I'm an apple, and Ann's an apple," Bramley explained.
"Oh God," Ann groaned. "Yeah, yeah, heard it all my life; MacIntosh is an apple. An apple. Ann Apple."
"Why when you moved in I told Hare we needed to have you over," Bramley said, her breath warm against Ann's ear and neck.
"Hey, I'm an apple too," Haralson smiled at Ann.
"By the way, these hors d'oeuvres are great," Ann offered.
"Canapes," Haralson smiled.
"Appetizers," Bramley teased.
"Know what, Bramley? Next time, you cook," Haralson told Bramley.
"You really want me to do that?" Bramley asked, laughing.
"He's a cook," Bramley confided to Ann, resting her hand lightly on Ann's bony hip. "Works off-shore."
"No kidding?" Ann asked, trying another humus canape.
"God, I could just play with this hair all day," Bramley said, now gently raking her fingernails against Ann's scalp.
"Wonderful. Wonderful, oh, these are just perfect," Haralson enthused and Ann heard the oven door slam shut.
"Brunch is ready," Haralson announced and placed three plates onto the round dining table.
"What? What is this?" Ann asked, seeing three small pies on her plate, along with a small bowl of chopped vegetables in a sauce and some chopped pieces of fruits.
"Quiche," Haralson said. "This one..."
He pointed to one of the quiche as Bramley and Ann took their seats. Ann put the linen napkin onto her lap and took another sip of her sweet and tart Apple of my eye cocktail.
"...is a spinach quiche. This one is a crawfish quiche, and this one is a five cheese quiche," Haralson continued.
"Five? Five? Only five? Ann, he's cheating us," Bramley teased.
"You hush your mouth, woman," Haralson smiled and kissed Bramley's laughing mouth. "The broccoli cauliflower carrot medley has a dill sauce with it and the fruit is oranges, pineapple, and grapefruit; just something light and refreshing."
Ann watched as Haralson returned to the kitchen. He was a handsome man with thick brown hair, deep brown eyes and a tanned, strong face. His shoulders were broad and his chest tapered into narrow waist and hips. Ann was terrible at guessing heights but Haralson was easily six feet tall if not taller.
"Um! Oh! Oh, this, this is to die for!" Ann said, trying the crawfish quiche first.
"Ann, what you take in your coffee?" Haralson called out.
"Bailey's," Bramley called back.
"Your name Ann? Huh? Is your name Ann?" Haralson asked. "I've already made yours, Ms. Bramley Applewhite."
"Bailey's?" Ann asked.
"Bailey's Irish Cream," Haralson and Bramley explained.
"Oh, I try that?" Ann asked.
"Absolutely," Haralson agreed.
After their brunch had been eaten, Haralson made another batch of Apple of My Eye, refreshed their coffees, then served a warm cinnamon bread pudding with a brown sugar bourbon glaze. Ann could feel the effects of the alcohol as they finished up their late morning meal.
"Can I brush your hair; do you have your hairbrush with you?" Bramley asked as Haralson cleared away their dishes. "God! I just love your hair."
"I, yeah, yeah, let's see," Ann said, fishing her pink plastic hairbrush from her faux Barragona bag.
Bramley knelt on the floor behind Ann's chair and slowly, lovingly brought the brush through Ann's limp red hair. While Bramley worked, Haralson prepared another batch of the sweet, tangy apple drinks.
"Beautiful," Bramely husked into Ann's ear, then delivered a soft bite to Ann's left earlobe.
"Hey!" Ann giggled, lightly swatting at Bramely over her shoulder.
"She's like that," Haralson agreed. "Anything else before I close the kitchen down?"
"Some more appetizers?" Bramely teased him then gave Ann's graceful neck a soft bite.
"Hey," Ann protested lightly, even as she tilted her head to give Bramely easier access to her neck.
"Canapes?" Harrelson smiled, unconsciously rubbing his growing erection as he watched his girlfriend slow, methodical seduction of the new neighbor.
"Mm," Ann moaned lightly as Bramley's tongue gave feather light licks to her throat.
Remaining on her knees, Bramley twisted Ann's chair and softly kissed along Ann's jawline. She used her hand to gently tilt Ann's face down and pressed her lips to Ann's lips.
"Mm hmm." Bramley worked her tongue into Ann's gasping mouth.
Ann could feel the button at the base of her neck being worked loose. She could feel the zipper of her sundress being worked down. Ann felt powerless, felt unable to stop Bramley as the attractive woman continued to kiss her.
Slowly rising to her feet, Bramely continued to kiss Ann. She then pulled Ann from the chair and eased Ann's sundress down over Ann's shoulders and narrow hips. Ann realized she was now dressed in only skimpy lace panties and sandals in front of two people she'd known for less than an hour.
"Oh! These, these are the prettiest..." Bramley husked, gently running her fingertips over Ann's tightly crinkled areolae.
Bramely again worked her tongue into Ann's mouth as she played with Ann's breasts. Then, releasing Ann's mouth, Bramley bent her head and captured Ann's left nipple in her mouth.
"Bedroom, bedroom's right down the hall," Bramely suggested, her left hand sliding past Ann's waistband.
"I...I, oh!" Ann tried to think, but Bramley's mouth and fingers were making coherent thoughts nearly impossible.
And the alcohol had not helped. Ann allowed herself to be guided to the neighbors' bedroom. Her sandals and panties were removed and she was placed in the center of the large, fluffy bed.
"That is the prettiest little pussy," Bramely enthused, kneeling between Ann's splayed legs.