Spice Girls

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“Ok Spice Girls, let’s hit it!” Aïda said.

“You mean the kitchen?” Bushrah asked.

“Where else Ginger Spice?” Aïda tied her scarf on the back of her head and run downstairs after letting these words out.

“She is always like that,” Zeinab pointed out. “She is such a suck up! Why does she always want to please him?”

“Right!” Raheesa pitched in. “Spice Girls, I tell you, she has too much dedication.”

“Just because your spices are hard to match doesn’t mean we can’t surprise him every now and then,” Aïda said and continued, “What’s your spice of choice Zeinab?”

“What should I tell you? For all I know, you can copy me and surpass me.”

“True, but I don’t know what your recipe entails. Fine, I tell you mine. Maybe you will be comfortable spilling the beans then. It’s Cinnamon spice.” Aida said and crossed her arms to think. What new spice can I bring to the table to get out of this love drought? Zeinab was partially right. She was out of ideas and was trying to pick the brain of her sister-wives.

“How about you Raheesa? Help a sister out.” Aïda said and twirled on herself. Then she paced in the kitchen with her left arm crossed below her chest and her right index finger poking her chin.

“Trying to get your way in his frisky favors by food?” Raheesa said huffy.

“Kind of. Well not kind of. I really need to get into his giving ways. I can’t get through his new asexual barriers these days…” She sat down overcomed by a sudden lack of energy. I don’t feel like cooking anymore ugh! She thought.

Raheesa realized that Aïda was tired. Her sister-wife had exhausted any possible plan she had recently hatched to re-connect with Mussa. “Alright, let me talk to Bushrah and Zeinab. I’m not promising anything.” A little pause and she continued, “Repeat after me to let it sink in. Girls, Aïda need our help. Let’s put our ego aside and try to help her.”

Under her breath, Aïda repeated the words. Girls, Aida need our help. Let’s put our ego aside and try to help her.

“How about we bake a cake to help her let it out?” Bushrah suggested.

“That’s a good idea!” The rest of Aida’s sister-wives agreed.

Before she could place a word, Zeinab talked. “Cinnamon Spice, I suggest that you get comfortable like you were behind your closed bedroom doors. The toddler is at school.” And she winked.

“You know what? I will do that. Thank you for the advice. Girls, I need some privacy but you can check on me every now and then.”

“You got it,” they replied, winked at Aïda and excused themselves. Then, Aïda gracefully got up from her chair and removed her cap scarf. After that, she let her white cardigan down revealing her pink tank top. Then, she slid down her brown maxi skirt. She pirouetted and looked at herself in the glass window of her kitchen giving on the closed and high fenced backyard. Her blue boyshort panty hugged her cheeks tightly. She put a hand to one cheek and imagined his electrifying touch. She gnawed her lips and snapped out of it to come up with what to cook.

Croissants would do. I will keep some of the dough to make some cinnamon rolls later. She then admired her curves once more and gave herself little caresses on her hair, her bosom, and her hips before going to get the floor and the other dry ingredients from the pantry. Next, she got the refrigerated ingredients out of the fridge.

Within minutes she started mixing the required ingredients. Bare feet, she clumsily played with the flour and covered the girls upstairs and shimmied as the powder coated the twin peaks. She giggled at the feeling and exhaled deeply with closed eyes. Memories of tender and sensual suckling vividly struck her mind. She smiled and opened her eyes and continued the baking task.

When the dough was ready, she got her rolling-pin out from one of the kitchen cabinets. She stared at it for a moment and cupped both her hands around it. She gently started to stroke it. This sidetracked her from the baking task to the point that Zeinab came to check on her with the pin still in her hands.

“Do you want a MilkyWay?” Zeinab smarted her off.

“No, thank you. I am watching my calorie intake.”

“Silly, I wasn’t talking about that. If you don’t want more ‘protein’ get on with the rolling of the dough.”

“Ohhhh, I see. Well, I thought the whole point in me baking was to let it out.”

“Yea, it is. But, we’re hungry too.”

“Fine, I will get the show on the road. Alright, oust! Get out of here.”

Aïda then put the dough of the floured surface and added the butter layer on top. Before she combined the two, she put her index finger in the butter, digging a little hole in it. Then she brought that finger to her mouth and slowly sucked on it. The sucking turned into licking with small enjoyment noises. Ooo hmmm ahhh. The sensual charged words continued until they alerted one of her sisters.

“What’s going on in here?” Bushrah said because as the quietest and the kinkiest one of the sisterhood, she had to know!

“Oooo lala, I was just tasting butter on my finger,” Aïda said wiping sweat off her forehead with her right arm.

“Alright, tone it down Butterfinger…It’s just butter, not a part of him,” she said.

“Haha! I can’t believe it’s butter because it felt like him. For real...” Aïda  said naughtily.

Bushrah shook her head and disappeared somewhere unknown.

Wew, that’s was something. She whispered and finished prepping and baking the croissants with no more distractions.

“Come on Spice Girls, pastries are ready. Who needs chocolate for lust when there is honey?” Aïda said as she drizzled a lot of honey on one croissant and marvelously savored it as she climaxed on the tasty food. Her sister-wives puffed in laughter as they watched her eat the croissants with a full bottle of honey. What kind of calories was she watching? Lol!

Jazak’Allah khair for reading,

© Papatia Feauxzar 2015



Papatia Feauxzar

Papatia Feauxzar is a practicing Accountant. She focused on personal finance in graduate school. She has a Master of Science in Accounting (MSA). Around the year, Feauxzar expatiate on personal finance and romance tips here and on her blogs. She is also the Online Editor of Hayati Magazine and the author of the first Ivorian Cookbook in English. Also a poet, you can read three of her pieces in "WOKE & LOUD: A Faith-Based Medley of Muslim Poetry & Spoken Word" published by Inked Resistance. Visit her at www.djarabikitabs.com or www.fofkys.com .

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