tagSci-Fi & FantasyPumpkin Pie Passion

Pumpkin Pie Passion


A Halloween/Samhain Tale: Where winds howl, spirits walk, the old ways are revered, heritage is realized, love transcends time, and pumpkin pie never tasted so absolutely sinful!

Special thanks to the three people who helped this story become the best it could be. Litfan10, whose wonderful critiquing and kind editing advice were invaluable in making my story flow better. LadyKnight, whose countless readings and encouragement (during the witching hours) were so delightful. Knightshade, whose support and suggestions (especially from the male perspective) and blush-inducing comments, were just what I needed. Thank you all for sparing your time, expertise and friendship.

Thanks for reading! Please VOTE and leave COMMENTS! Above all, ENJOY this Pumpkin Pie! :)

~Pumpkin Pie Passion~

By: LunaEroticaMystica

© 2010

I awoke in the middle of the night. My skin had broken out in a cold sweat and I was shivering. I pulled the three layers of blankets - a flannel, a fleece, and a home-made quilt my late grandmother had made me - up to my chin and took a few deep breaths.

I tried to recall the dream that had broken my slumber. The only thing that stood out to me was a man. I couldn't see much of his form, for he stood in the shadows. But what struck me were his eyes. They were a piercing green and almost glowed, like a cat's eyes. His hair was dark and his body and build were average. He was taller than myself, by about a foot. Which wasn't saying much, as I was only just over 5 ft.

Now, why on earth would the vision of a tall, dark, and handsome, albeit mysterious man, have me shivering and sweating profusely? That was the question. I looked at the digital clock on my night stand. It read 12 midnight: November 1st. Last night, I had found myself out of place at the town's annual Halloween party. I had decided to go to the party, hoping to maybe meet some of my new neighbors. I had just moved in to the town two weeks ago on a work transfer. The party was a bust. I had kept to myself, as was my nature, and watched from the sidelines. The perfect wall flower, even if I was in one of the best hand-made costumes there.

I shrugged. No matter; it was over and now it was the all important holiday and festival of Samhain. The end of summer: the time of harvest. This was the time of cleansing and of reverence for those who had moved on. A thinning of the veil, when spirits and fae alike walked on earth, if one were to believe such things. I happened to believe in the possibility, although I was a healthy skeptic. While I was not a practitioner of the old ways, my grandmother had been and she had forewarned me, ever since a small child.

"Keep your wits about you and trust none but yourself. Always be respectful of the spirits: earthly and otherworldly. Mark my words, dear-heart, one day you will not be able to escape your heritage."

"OK, Gran. I get it." I said to the empty, drafty room. Why was it so cold? I was feeling restless after that dream and needed fresh air, desperately. Although my room was cold and outside even colder, the air inside was stale and the energy stifling. I looked over to the other side of my room to see that my window was wide open.

How did that happen? I wondered to myself.

The wind sang out my name. I slipped into comfort clothes: a black hoodie and gray micro-fleece pants, and wrapped my green, fleece-cloak around myself, snug. The brisk chill in the air hit me and lifted my spirits, as I stepped outside and began to walk. It was time to do a little exploring. I patted my pocket, reassured that my pepper spray and pocket knife were tucked out of sight, but still within easy reach. Not that I would need them in this quaint little town. The only crimes that I had seen recorded were rowdy teenagers and a few cases of domestic violence.

The remnants of the weekend's full moon glowed in the sky, cloud kissed. I heard a howl in the distance, then chuckled to myself. There are no coyotes or wolves around here, although sometimes I wish there were. Wilderness - the very essence of being. Knowing it was only a hound dog or the shout of a child, I continued to walk on with no destination in mind, only the wind calling me forth. The scent of fires burning filled my nostrils and the thought of a warm fire, cozied up to a lover made me smile dreamily. I allowed myself this dream, to hold onto the thought, as I continued. My strawberry blonde hair has always changed with the seasons. It is now an autumn auburn color, flowing freely on the breeze. I passed houses decked out in Halloween garb of pumpkins, lights, ghosts, scarecrows, and cornstalks. A fog crept along the ground, blanketing the earth. I shivered as it slithered up my legs, my mind filled with horror-movie scenes. I should turn around and go back home. I felt dizzy and disoriented. Somehow, my legs carried me through a small patch of trees and onto unknown territory.

I breathed a sigh of relief when I saw street lights.

Whimsical and light, the falling leaves danced into my vision: golds and browns, crimson, orange, spotted green. They played in the breeze carefree like children. But they fell - as lovers embraced. I felt the overwhelming urge to join this private rendezvous. Noting a large pile of leaves on the side of the road, I smiled. Looking this way and that, making sure I was alone; I discarded my cloak and leaped with pure joy into the center of the pile. Laughter bubbled out of me and into the night air. Inner-child and I tackled the leaf pile together, wrestling for the prettiest of leaves. In my fun, I failed to hear the footsteps crunching on the leaves.


I sat up, staring wide-eyed. He stood before me, rake in his hand, trying in vain to tidy up the pile I had just thrown into disarray. Tendrils of unease coiled in my stomach. His hair was dark, his eyes probing. Oh dear, what have I done?

I clasped my hand over my mouth to muffle my startled cry. He reached his hand out toward me; I grasped it as he gently drew me out of the leaf pile. My hand tingled where he touched and the hairs on the back of my neck lifted in warning. We gazed into each others' eyes. Still caught up in the moment, I blushed with embarrassment. His one eyebrow rose in question. Was there some kind of recognition there?

"I'm sorry." I squeaked out. He lifted his hand to my hair, brushing away a few leaves. I turned around, fumbling for words and looked at his yard. The whole yard raked of leaves. This late at night? Who did that? Why!? Then my eyes focused on the front of his house.

I was in Halloween Paradise. His yard was themed in the old time Halloween style. It was incredible: sculptures and statues full of color and emotion, bales of hay, pumpkins, apple trees, little sculpted trick-or-treaters, ghosts, ghouls, witches, warlocks, devils, even scarecrows with real crows balanced on them.

"That is amazing." I whispered in awe and appreciation. He continued to gaze at me, puzzled. I raked my hands through my hair discovering it wind-tossed and beyond tameable with a brush. I reached down a bit unsteady for my cloak, anything to keep my eyes away from his emerald orbs. I straightened up. He held out the cloak for me.

"You look cold." He murmured noting my rosy cheeks. I nodded quickly.

"A little."


"Come inside, have a cup of hot cider with me. You can explain why you were ravaging my pile of innocent leaves, and I can give you a tour of my work." Being the spontaneous one that evening, I followed him into his house. A fire blazed in the hearth and the scent of pumpkin permeated the air. My stomach rumbled its fury, hoping it was pumpkin pie and not some fragrant candle. The smell coming from his house quickly displaced the idea of an art tour. I looked over at his kitchen and saw a golden pie sitting in his oven. Yes!

He intrigued me. Raking leaves, working like a shadow on his yard, baking pies, all in the dead of night. Was he a vampire? I laughed uneasily to myself. No such thing. In the light of his house, I noticed his hair was black like the night and his eyes were dark green, much like a cat's.

"I'm really sorry about ruining your hard work." He smirked in amusement, enjoying my uncomfortableness.

"I enjoyed watching you." His words and voice were music to my ears. A deep timbre, lulling. "I used to do that as a child. Although, I suppose every child that has ever experienced true Autumn has done that." He smiled, trying to ease the awkward moment.

"Yes, I was remembering doing just that. I couldn't help it. I suppose it was a bit silly of me. I'm not even sure how I ended up here. I just followed the wind. That does sound quite ridiculous." He stoked the fire and invited me to sit on the mossy-green leather couch. The sound of my shoes on the hardwood floor, echoed loudly. The couch was sitting on a floral Persian rug.

"Not at all. I can sense that you appreciate nature and all her beauty. It's a shame there are not more of us nature lovers out there." He chuckled at me.

"What?" I asked standing up, nervous.

"You seem to have brought more leaves in the house than you left outside." With that, he began removing the leaves from my hair. His touch was gentle. I watched his lips as he spoke, wondering what they tasted like. Stop it! I scolded myself. But he's the man from the dream. My subconscious whined back. The man from my dream reached down and untied my sneakers.

"Um, what are you doing?" I asked, holding onto his shoulder and lifting my foot.

"I just swept the floor. You have leaves stuck to your shoes." He said simply, as he slipped my feet out of my shoes and walked over to place them by the door. "There, much better." He turned back to me, brushing his hands against each other, to knock off any stray leaves. His cheeks were a little pink. "I'm sorry. I'm a bit of a fanatic when it comes to my floors."

"Might I ask why?" I inquired. He was a bit quirky, wasn't he? It was rather charming.

"I laid the wood myself. I'm pretty proud of the work I did." He bent down and ran his hand along a plank of wood.

"It's a lovely floor." I commented, unsure what else to say.

He shrugged, stood up, and walked into the kitchen. I followed as he set two mugs on the table, and removed the teakettle from the stove. "I suppose now that you've explained your reason for jumping into my unsuspecting leaf-pile, that you have some questions of your own." I blushed at his reading my mind.

"Mhm, why were you raking leaves in the middle of the night or baking pie for that matter?" He took the pie out of the oven and cut a slice for each of us. My favorite smell in the whole world wafted through the room, tantalizing my senses -- pumpkin. I braced my hands on his counter and leaned over to sniff the pie. He quirked a perfect black eyebrow.

"Sorry." I mumbled. "I just love pumpkin." I gasped, as he stuck a forkful into my mouth. I savored the texture. He kindly slid a bar stool over to me, and I plopped myself down on it; murmuring words of love to the pie. He tried hard not to laugh at me. My mouth held his attention. I knew I was, because of the pie: but, was he salivating?

"I cannot sleep, a life-long insomniac." He stated with one last lingering look at my lips. "Some have wondered what I do during the day locked up in here like a hermit, I suppose. Most often, I sleep. You've glimpsed a bit of my livelihood. I am an artist and sculptor, among other things. So you can tell your friends and family and the busybodies that I am not a vampire, nor a cranky old witch woman, nor a decrepit old man." I couldn't help oggle his body. He was right about that. I do not think I've ever seen anyone so healthy looking in my life. His face was strong, nose a gentle slope, his eyes captivating, body fit.

"That might be a bit difficult." I confessed.

"What would that be?" He asked, his tone sounding interested.

"To reveal that you are none of the things that people say you are. I'm new in town. I don't know anyone yet." This bit of news seemed to, what, please him? His smile warmed that much more. I sipped the apple cider. It was hot and hit the spot on my chilled body. The pie was divine.

"You bake; you sculpt; you paint; you clean; for all intents and purposes you seem a gentleman." I paused a moment, considering, then shrugged. "You seem perfect." What I wanted to know was where was his wife or girlfriend? "So what is your flaw, Mr. Shadows and Mystery." He blushed, giving him an uncharacteristic, boyish appearance. He reached across the table and took my hand in his. My heart beat sped up a notch and the small tingle that started at our joined hands, spread down my body and settled low in my abdomen.

"Beautiful enchantresses like yourself." I slapped his hand away playfully, trying to hide my blush at the compliment. I wondered what could be going through my mind, being in a strange man's home. A man it seemed, who was noted to be eccentric and unpredictable.

"I'm serious. But thank you."

"I meant it." His back straightened. "My flaw would have to be lack of human interest." He took my mug and pie and stood up. "Let's sit by the fire." We made our way into the living room and sat back on the comfy couch. Settled in, he continued. "I am what they say."

"A vampire?" I giggled.

"No, a hermit. Not always. I haven't always been a hermit. I used to be like everyone else. That is until my life became an eternity of Autumn." I did not understand, nor did I question. He had secrets behind his eyes. But, why should he reveal them to me? Maybe in time he would. He took my plate and walked into the kitchen.

"Would you like some more pumpkin pie?" He called out from the kitchen.

"Please. I have never tasted anything this sinful before." He walked back out with the whole pie, setting it on the coffee table.

"Oh no?" He cocked his head to the side, and I saw the wicked gleam in his eye. I gulped. "I apologize. I forgot to top it off with home-made whipped cream." In his other hand he was holding an orange bowl with a spoon sticking up out of it. I nodded, drooling just a bit. I wiped my mouth on a napkin as he scooped out a large dollop of the white yumminess. It slid off the spoon with a satisfying plop and landed on my substantial slice of pie. I looked at the dreamy concoction, then into his eyes and deliberately licked my lips. My eyes were pulled back to his mouth and I found myself wondering again, if his lips tasted as good as they looked.

"No." I said, answering his question at last. My stomach parroted the answer with an embarrassing growl. I had a feeling I knew where this was leading. I wanted this. I felt this strange connection to him, and I'm pretty sure it wasn't just lust. Right now, I really didn't care what it was.

"Well, how about we change that?" He suggested, his mouth curving up in sexy smile -- an invitation. I laughed.

"I'd like that." He cupped my face and brushed my lips with his finger, before gently kissing them. I didn't encourage the kiss, but I didn't pull away either. I wanted to gauge the situation, first. The fire crackled and blazed. Reluctantly, he parted. Definitely tasty. He dipped his finger into the whipped cream and held it up to my lips, in offering. I leaned my head closer to him, stuck my tongue out and accepted the white creaminess off of his finger.

"Mm. Thanks." He scooped up a bit more and this time, when his finger lingered at my lips, I shyly sucked his finger into my mouth, savoring the sweetness. He smelled of pumpkin and spices. I looked down at the piece of pie and dug into it with my fork, holding it up for him. "I'm not sure I could eat this whole thing by myself."

"That was my intention." He confided, with a grin. "It is meant to be shared." He swallowed the pie and sat back. I was on the edge of the seat wondering what to do. I felt his hands on my shoulders, massaging them.

"You have quite a few knots." He remarked, lifting my long hair off my shoulder.

"Moving is stressful. So is my job transfer. My boss is a pain in the ass." He obviously knew what he was doing. As he worked the knots out of my neck and shoulders, I began to relax.

"It's a fine ass." His voice was soft in my ear.

"What?" The words startled me.

"Your ass. It's a nice one." He laughed. "Sorry, I couldn't help noticing it when you were destroying my leaf pile."

"It was pitch dark out there." I said, suspicious.

"I have very good eye sight." He chuckled. I relinquished my perch on the edge of the couch and sat back against the soft cushions. Our knees were touching. The wind was howling something fierce and despite the fire burning, I was chilled again.

"What were you doing wandering around in the middle of the night: this particular night, of all nights? Don't you know spirits walk on this night?" He seemed worried for me. "Not only that, but people still like to cause mischief, especially after the town's Halloween party debut." He interrogated me. Debut? That sounded odd. I had just read in the local newspaper this year was the tradition's 35th anniversary.

"You believe that legend?" I evaded his question.

"Legends are old. Customs are ancient." He said simply, his eyes darkening. I looked around for my cloak. It was over on the other chair. As if reading my mind, he pulled an old quilt off the top of the couch and lay it across our laps. "That better?"

"Thanks. I've been so cold lately." But I wasn't cold with him. He moved his body closer and wrapped his arm around my shoulder, drawing me against him. "I like that."

"You didn't answer my question. Why were you out by yourself?" He brought the question forth again. I sighed.

"I needed air and I felt drawn to take a walk. I can't explain it." I hesitated, before resting my head against his shoulder. "Don't worry. I was well equipped for the occasion of mischief making." I flashed him a view of my blade and my pepper spray. "But as you see, I got lost."

"Oh." His eyes were drawn to my small arsenal of self-defense weapons. "Well, I'm glad the wind brought you to my door. You could have frozen out there!" He admonished, as he took the weapons from me and lay them on the table. I growled at him.

"For my safety." He grinned, impishly. Then he slid them back over to me, his hands up in surrender. I left them on the table.

"Mhm." I watched the flames leap and dance in the fire place, mesmerized by the blue flame in the middle. It rose higher than the rest. "So beautiful." I said, lost in my own thoughts.

"Indeed. Do you have a name, girl who wanders where most fear to tread?" His hand beneath my chin returned my focus to his intense green gaze.

"Huh?" That was a strange turn of phrase. "Autumn." I answered, holding my breath. Something flashed in his eyes and he tightened his grip on me. "What's your name?"



He loosened his hold on me and turned his face to mine. There was an intensity in his eyes that wasn't there a moment ago. "Autumn" his deep voice nearly sang. I blinked and his lips were a breath from mine. He tilted my head at an angle, his hands entwining in my hair, as he dragged my mouth to his. Alarmed, I tried to pull back. But, I didn't get far. His tongue was probing my lips, seeking entry. I braced my hands on his shoulders to push him away. But when his tongue touched the tip of mine, I opened my mouth and invited him in. Our tongues met; swirling and dancing like the leaves outside his house. Get a hold of yourself! My mind screamed at me. What on earth was I doing, kissing and thinking naughty thoughts about a perfect stranger? I couldn't stop my eyes from taking in his body again and agreeing with the word "perfect." Could that kiss have possibly been any more delicious?

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byLunaEroticaMystica© 20 comments/ 18466 views/ 9 favorites

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