The Soap Shop Ch. 03

And so the next day, freshly unemployed, extremely confused and slightly embarrassed by these events, I tried to figure out what to make of all this.

Right. The first thing I'll do, I should probably get in touch with Abby. Now, that was easily said, but I hardly knew anything about her. I certainly didn't have her phone number, but I did know where she lived.

Look, I'm not a stalker, alright? I'm just... naturally curious. And so I tried to see if I could find her address somewhere in her office. And when I couldn't, I just followed her home once, in a very non-stalking kinda way.

Well, anyway, she lives out in one of those dead-end streets, out by... ah, it doesn't matter. You're not from around here anyways. But she had a nice little place, a kind of mid-century ranch-style house with a short porch and a driveway and garage. Typical home around these parts, I've seen millions of them. And Abby's car was parked in the driveway, so she must be home.

I eyed myself in the rear-view mirror as I was parked across the street, working up the courage to get out and ring her doorbell. I had deep rings under my eyes, since I slept hardly at all last night. There was just too much going through my head, and getting fired wasn't even the most pressing issue. I mean, I never had a threesome before, let alone at work. And to have one with Abby was... it felt like a dream come true, but nonetheless like a dream.

And then, what about the other girl? I still don't know her name, or anything else about her, but she seemed to like me? We had to leave in a hurry yesterday when we got caught and everything was so hectic and embarrassing that I didn't think of exchanging phone numbers or anything. I felt sorry for her, even though now, thinking back, I don't feel as drawn to her as I did yesterday.

In fact, her memory was fading quickly. I remember her face, still, especially the hair, and the way she tasted, but... not much else. What was her voice like? I had no idea.

One more look in the mirror. I looked like shit, but at least I did my hair and put some makeup on, even though I really didn't feel like it. Alright, Yasmin, you can do this. She's licked your butthole once, that should count for something.

I got out and walked up to her front door. My feet were wobbly, but I blamed it on my shoes. Their heels weren't super high, but could give you a hard time on gravel, especially when you're not too fond of wearing heels to begin with. And I wasn't. But I was also nervous as hell.

I stared at her doorbell for what seemed like the entire morning, then finally put my finger on it. Here it goes, Yasmin. Say what you have to say.

The guy that opened the door was definitely not Abby. He was... pretty short, to be honest, and he tried to make up for it with a manbun, full beard and twirled moustache - the hipster trifecta. Also, the obligatory steroidal muscle mass you would expect underneath a head like that. "Yes," he said in a cautious, but not unfriendly tone.

"Hi," I said and then paused, slightly taken aback. I hadn't accounted for this possibility.

"Uh, is Abby home?" I asked finally.

"Who're you?" he said, instead of an answer.

"I... uh, we..." I stuttered, trying to come up with an innocuous explanation. Finally, I just told him: "We work together."

That was the wrong thing to say. His eyes narrowed and he begun to size me up. "Are you the one got her fired?" he growled, decidedly less friendly.

Finally, I hightailed it and ran - well, power-walked as fast as my heels allowed it - back to my car, got in and fumbled with the ignition while he stood outside on the sidewalk, yelling at me. Look, I'm just not very courageous, alright? I get confronted, and I run, it's what I do. I'm not proud of it or anything, but at my age, it's silly not to at least acknowledge that it's a pattern.

So anyway, I got the engine going, and I drove out of there, and I would've liked to tell you that at least my tires were screeching a little, but I don't know how to make them screech, so I just got out very... casually, like.

I rounded the corner, and then another, got back on to main street and then drove aimlessly. I had nowhere else to go, no other plan than this one. I felt adrift, drifting along in a gleaming sea of steel and glass.

I pulled into a parking lot, because it felt silly driving around like this, and then went over my options in my head:

So, Abby was out, presumably, at least for now. The other girl... I don't even know where to start. I also would have to find a new job, naturally, but as for right now...

The soap! Somehow I had forgotten all about that. There was something strange, something mysterious about its connection to all those events yesterday. I should get some answers from soap lady.

I stopped at the mall parking lot, just as I had done not even 24 hours ago, and yet it seemed like that was ages ago. So much had happened in the meantime that my life was completely changed now, and I wondered if I was even the same person that I was when I got here yesterday.

I got out and locked my car, then strolled down the long corridor, just like I had done the day before, only this time with a clear goal: The Soap Shop.

It should be here. I was pretty sure I found the spot, even though all these mall vendors look the same, but it was gone. No - not gone. It looks like it was never even here. It was just an empty store space with "for rent" posters in the windows and some of those mobile room dividers behind them, so as to block the view to the rest of the store. Still, I tried to get a glimpse around, but all I could see was just more shop, empty and vacant.

What the hell was going on? This made no sense. Who puts up a boutique, only to be gone the next day? Not even a Gone-Out-Of-Business Sale?

Maybe I was in the wrong spot. It was all a bit confusing yesterday, so I may have come in the wrong end or something. And so I went down the entire length of the mall, just to look for something that even slightly resembled a soap boutique. And then I went again. And again.

"What the fuck?" I sighed finally, leaning against one of the planters that lined the middle of the corridor, staring at the empty storefront and the "for rent" signs behind them.

"You lookin' for something?" said a voice behind me. I jumped, startled, and turned around. A mall cop. She looked friendly, though, just trying to be helpful.

"I, uh..." I stuttered, wondering if I should involve her in my quest. "Wasn't there a shop here once?" I finally asked, gesturing vaguely in the direction of the store.

"Yeah, funny thing," she said. "Gone this morning, just like that. Wa'n't here long either, 'sfar as I know. They did somethin' with perfume, right? Always smelled nice 'round here."

"Right, yeah," I mumbled. "I always liked their... stuff." I looked at her for an awkward moment, then asked: "Say, do you know where the restrooms are?"

"Right down there," she replied, indicating the direction with a nod of the head. I frantically tried to remember what the soap lady said yesterday. Something about desire being first? Fucking hell, there was something about this soap and I was determined to find out what it is.

"Thanks," I said and wandered off in the direction of those restrooms, feeling like a complete and utter dork. Luckily, they were empty when I entered and so I sat down my purse and pulled out the soap. I had put it in a small plastic bag, just to keep everything in there from getting soaped all the time. It was weird enough to be carrying that thing around all the time, it would be weirder still to have it just sitting in there by itself, soaping.

I held it in my hand and eyed it, maybe for the millionth time since I got it. It was still mesmerizing, but familiar now, and it still looked pristine and new. Well, maybe the edges were a little rounder now, but other than that... Maybe I should find a nicer container for it? Something fancier than a plastic bag at least.

I turned on the faucet and took the soap out of its bag, then slowly, carefully washed my hands with it.

What was it she had said? There were two elements to it, I think. First this, then that. First desire, then... I don't know. To be honest, I thought it was their tacky sale slogan at the time. You know how some shops make their staff say: "Welcome to Hank's Honkin' Hacienda. Have a Hankalicious day." Something like that. But now, I think she gave me instructions.

First soap, then desire? Nope, that wasn't it either. First water, then soap? Never leave the bun in the oven? Always carry a big stick when you walk slowly? I'm not good with these things.

Well, one thing I found out is that if you use the soap by yourself, it does fuck all. It was a two-part process, I was sure of this now. Only, I don't know what the two parts were. Somehow, I had a notion, it involved two people.

In my head, I went over all the people I could call to help me try to figure it out. Maybe I should call Laur... no Yasmin, we swore we wouldn't do that. You don't want to be one of those lesbians who keeps going back to their exes, trying to talk a relationship - which is already dead - into the dust. Don't call Lauren. Don't call Lauren.

Right, who else is there? Danica? But she's also Lauren's friend. In fact, all of our friends are pretty much Lauren's friends, I'm not the outgoing sort.

Well, what about... no. You don't involve family in this, Yasmin. This has too much to do with your sex life, and you don't want your family anywhere near that, especially since half of them think you're a literal Satan worshipper. "Literal Satan Worshipper" would be good on a shirt, too.

Okay, then... wasn't there that waitress at your last job? In the bakery, she always threw you these looks. Or maybe that was your imagination going wild, because things didn't go so well with Lau...

No, we don't talk about our exes, remember! Fucking hell. The real takeaway from all this is: You really need some friends, Yasmin!

My thoughts got interrupted when suddenly an older lady walked into the restroom, eyeing me curiously. I had to get going.

"I'm sorry," she said, when I started eyeing her maybe a little too long. She looked nice, and neat, just a regular older woman going about her business. And here I was thinking about how I could involve her in mine.

"It's alright," I replied, wondering what she was apologizing for. "I was just lost in thought."

She smiled. "Oh my," she said. "I hope it's nothing serious."

I shrugged. "It's alright," I said again, and then, just because I had no one else to talk about this: "Hey, do you know that soap shop here?"

She looked at me puzzled. "Sorry, I don't know that one," she answered. "Is it good?"

"I guess," I sighed. "I bought this here earlier, wanna try?" I held out the bar of soap in my hand like a dork, grinning at her to take it. God, Yasmin, if you would encounter a random bathroom soap woman, you'd gtfo so fast.

"Uhh, sure," she said, smiling a little pained now. Still, she took the soap and turned it in her hand.

"It's pretty," she remarked, before washing her hands with it, feeling less and less at ease with how I was watching her every move. It felt like an obsession now, like I couldn't turn my eyes away, getting more and more intense, shifting from the soap to her, eyeing her all over.

She was pretty, in that motherly way that some very nice older women had. She dressed casually, but stylish, in a long flowery skirt and a similarly flowery halterless top, which accentuated her figure without being too sexy.

Her hair was likely bottle blonde and shoulder length, in a cut that was neither flashy nor unflattering, just easy to maintain while looking pretty good on her.

I was getting lost in her eyes for a moment, admiring the little crows feet that made them sparkle so beautifully when she smiled, then noticed her inconspicuous makeup, wondering how much time she might spend before she was ready to go out.

I bet she had the routine down to a T and could get it done if 5 minutes flat, if that. I bet she could teach me a lot on how to improve my look, and I'd be happy to listen and let her do me all over.

Alllll over. Anywhere and everywhere. Right now, right here. God, I was suddenly so horny for her, I didn't even have the time to wonder where those feelings had come from. She was just... perfect. The most perfect, desirable woman in the world, right in front of me. I just had to have her.

"Can I... can I kiss you?" I purred, still staring at her. "I've always had a thing for older women, ever since my first lover. She showed me so many things."

"What???" she exclaimed incredulously, staring at me with revulsion and actually backing away from me towards the door.

"Please," I pleaded, now mad with lust, thinking about how very sweet her pussy must taste, how experienced her fingers must be, sliding into me while our naked bodies rubbed against one another. I could've sworn I felt wetness from my crotch run down along the insides of my thigh, even though that's probably impossible.

I was going nuts. I was just about to drop to the floor and crawl towards her when she bailed out of the bathroom, her steps fading fast into the distance outside.

She was probably the only sane person in this entire sordid tale that my life had become and it left me confused and bewildered for a moment. Then, still horny as hell, I ran after her.

When I got out of the bathroom, she was nowhere to be seen, though. I didn't let it stop me. I searched the mall, from one end to the next, over and over, in all the shops, like a madwoman, fully determined to find my lover and make love to her, no matter the cost. It was a burning, all-consuming desire and the fact that it couldn't be fulfilled made it burn even higher.

To be absolutely, completely honest with you, I don't know exactly what else I did afterwards. I remember driving, looking, searching, but not where or how long.