For most of us, Valentine's Day is a day of romance, a day for flowers, chocolates, candlelight and sweet lovemaking on satin sheets.
For florists, though, it's something else altogether.
A Weiss Kreuz Sekkushiaru Roman
by Sailor Mac
"Hey! Do we have any more red roses?" Omi shouted over the din in the flower shop. He was trying to take orders from two different customers at once. . .and had at least eight more lined up after them.
"I think we've got one dozen more left," Ken yelled from the other side of the room, where he was similarly under seige. "Have to check."
"It *has* to be red roses!" the portly man with thinning grey hair said to Omi. "She doesn't like any other color!"
"What about mySweetheart Bouquet?" said the tall, skinny guy neext to him. "You didn't give me a price for my Sweetheart Bouquet yet!"
"I'm working on it, sir," Omi said, trying to maintain calm. He felt like he'd been at this for days, even though he'd only been taking orders for two hours. Of course, it was two hours *nonstop,* without a break. As soon as he'd gotten in from school, Yohji had greeted him at the door with a loud, "OMI! I'm so glad to see you!" and threw him into the thick of it.
"Hey!" a woman with obviously-dyed hair and an obviously-bobbed nose behind the two men shouted. "You didn't answer *my* question, either! Can you deliver outside this district of the city?"
"Ma'm, I'll help you right after I'm done with these customers," Omi said through gritted teeth. This must have been the eighth time she'd asked that. Apparently, she was having trouble grasping the concept of a *line.*
And then, he thought, after we're done with all this, and close up shop. . .we have to work on actually *building* all these arrangements. He knew that Yohji and Aya were working on most of the simplest ones at that moment. . .but the more elaborate ones were always left for Ken and himself. We'll be here until midnight, he thought.
There was only one bright spot in this madness, one he was going to focus on later on, when things settled down a little. . .he and Ken were about to celebrate their first Valentine's Day as a couple.
Japanese Valentine's Day custom dictated that women were supposed to give men chocolates. . .but the rules, Omi thought, don't take a two-man couple into consideration. So, he had something different planned.
He'd been downloading MP3s of romantic songs. . .love ballads, sensual jazz tunes. . .for several months, and when he had collected enough, he'd started burning them onto CDs (making sure they were in a format that would play back on a regular CD player). He planned to debut his creations on the big day.
And then, there were the other mood enhancers. . .the candles, the incense, and the coup de gras. . .a selection of scented massage oils. The woman in the soap-and-lotion shop had sworn that they were flavored as well. He wasn't about to start drinking from the bottle to test the theory. . .but, he thought, it would be *very* pleasant if we could find out. . .
"Hey! Boy!" one of the customers was shouting in a bray that reminded Omi of a wounded donkey. "I asked if this arragement could be done *without* the little white thingies!"
Omi sighed. To get to that, he thought, I have to live through . . .*this.*
* * *
The store had been closed for several hours. Ken sat at the workbench in the back, looking at the stack of order slips. . .a stack that didn't seem to be getting any shorter.
"The more of these I make," he muttered, "the more there is to do!"
Rose arrangements were simple enough to do. . .but the pain in the snoot was the elaborate baskets made up of dozens of flowers, of several different kinds, all arranged just-so. . .
He picked up the scissors and began cutting stems to size. Again. Cut, snip, arrange, cut a bit more, poke, push, get stuck with thorns. . .It felt like it was all he'd ever done, and all he ever would do.
There was only one thing making this hell at least bearable. . .the angel sitting across from him, sticking red and white carnations into a piece of styrofoam-like material.
"How are you doing?" Ken asked him.
Omi paused, stretching a bit. "Okay. I'd be lying if I said this was a party, but. . ."
Ken reached over and covered Omi's hand with his. "We'll make it, Angel," he said. "Tomorrow's the last day of this. Then, life returns to *normal.*"
Omi smiled, sweetly. "Ken-Ken. . .are our lives *ever* normal?"
"Well, as normal as things get around here, anyway."
Omi groaned. "I think we had a million people go through our shop today."
"It just feels that way," Ken replied. Especially when you look at these piles of order slips, he silently added.
He thought about the next night, when all these arrangements were signed, sealed and delivered and he and Omi could have their own celebration. Oh, he had plans for it, big plans. He had come up with a menu of sensual foods a soup flavored with wine, shellfish with noodles, fruit tarts and then, he would let Omi see the special outfit he had purchased for the occasion. It hadn't been cheap. . .but it would definitely be worth it!
I want our first Valentine's Day as a couple to be special, he thought. I want it to be a memory we'll cherish all our lives.
He looked over at Omi again. The younger boy seemed pensive as he fluffed out his flowers, putting the finishing touches on the arrangement.
"What are you thinking, Angel?" he said.
Omi sighed deeply. "I'm thinking that I'd rather be doing a mission right now than doing this."
And that, Ken thought, would be saying a lot. Coming from either of us.
"Me too, love," he replied.
He watched Omi pick up the arrangement he'd finished, tag it, and take it to the big walk-in refrigerator, which served as a holding pen for bouquets waiting to be delivered. When the door was open, Ken could see a riot of colors, as the fridge was practically wall-to-wall flowers already.
And every one of those, he thought, has got to be *delivered* tomorrow.
Suddenly, he felt three times more exhausted than he had before.
* * *
Ken finally pulled his motorcycle up to his apartment house. He got off, his legs feeling like rubber.
I've been on the move all day, he thought. Literally all day. I must have delivered flowers to every single residence in Tokyo.
He moved across the lobby of his building like a zombie. I'm tired, he thought. So tired. No, I can't be tired. I have to perk myself up. Have to be ready for Omi. . .he'll be disappointed if I'm not a hundred percent tonight.
As soon as he unlocked his door, his eyes fell on the couch. How inviting it looked. . .oh, how he'd love to just lie down on it and. . .
"No," he said aloud. "That is *not* an option."
Maybe, he thought, I should just take a nice, hot shower. That'll clear my head, wake me up. . .
Meanwhile, at Omi's place, he was feeling much the same way. He came in the front door, dragging his feet, not even pausing to light the candles and incense he had in the little shrine to Ouka's memory.
If this were a regular night, he thought, I'd just go straight to bed. But I can't. I have to be there for Ken-Ken tonight. I have to give him the kind of Valentine's Day he deserves.
He flopped down on his bed and felt his eyelids start to close. He jolted himself awake. I have to get ready, he thought. I need the candles and the incense and the oil and romantic music. . .
But as much as his mind wanted to move, his body was betraying him. He wasn't going anywhere. And his eyelids were fluttering downward rapidly. . .
Within minutes, he was asleep.
Ken, meanwhile, had gotten out of the shower and into the outfit he'd planned to wear. He scrutinized himself in the mirror. It certainly *was* flattering to him.
Wearing it, however, wasn't making him feel any more energized.
I should have coffee, he thought. A few cups of strong, black coffee. Maybe even chew a few unground coffee beans. . .Omi does that when he really wants to stay awake, right?
He passed back through the living room on the way to the kitchen. I'll just sit down a moment, he thought. That won't harm anything. Sit down, then go get the stuff. . .
He sat, and drifted off almost immediately.
* * *
Omi woke up. The newly-risen sun was peeking through the window. He was on his back on his bed, still fully dressed.
And it was the day after Valentine's Day.
He sprung to his feet. Oh, gods! he thought. I missed it! I slept right through Valentine's Night. . .I missed spending the night with Ken-kun. . .oh, gods, he'll never forgive me!
He snatched up the phone and dialed Ken's number. It rang. . .and rang. . .and then, just before the answering machine got a chance to kick in, there was a click and a sleepy voice saying, "Hello?"
"Ken-kun. . .it's me. . ."
Ken jolted to full consciousness. He'd fallen asleep on the couch! Omi never had a chance to come over. . .Oh, no, he thought, he must be ready to kill me!
"Oh, Omi. . .honey, I'm so sorry. . ."
Omi was perplexed. *Ken* was saying he was sorry? *I* should be the one saying that! he thought.
"Sorry. . .for what?"
"I sat down on the couch last night and immediately passed out! I didn't get a chance to spend Valentine's Day with you. . ."
Oh, gods, Omi thought. . .him too? And suddenly, the full irony hit him, and he started to laugh. . .first a little giggle, then full-throated, full-body laughter.
That was the last thing in the world Ken expected to be hearing. "Um. . .Angel?"
"Oh, Ken-kun. . .I'm laughing because. . .because. . .I did the same exact thing!"
Ken paused, letting that sink in. . .and then, he found himself starting to laugh as well. All that planning, all that anticipation. . .and they both ended up falling *asleep!* He laughed harder and harder, tears starting to roll down his cheeks, and at the other end, he could hear Omi laughing uproariously as well. . .which just made him laugh all the harder.
When they both settled down, Omi finally said, "Ken-kun. . .I. . .well, I guess we have to do a *post* Valentine's Day."
"Somehow, I think this is better. If we'd tried to do it last night, we'd be tense and stressed out from having to run around all day."
Omi had to admit he had a point. It was very hard to feel romantic and sexy if you were half-asleep.
"Well. . .guess we're going to try it again tonight," Omi said. "Same time, same place. . ." And, oh, gods, he thought, if we get a mission for tonight. . .neither one of us is going to be very pleasant to be around.
"You've got it, Angel," Ken replied. "I'll see you later, at work."
He hung up the phone, a sense of relief flooding him. It wasn't the disaster he thought it was going to be.
"I guess," he said out loud, "florists weren't meant to celebrate Valentine's Day. . .*on* Valentine's Day."
* * *
At seven in the evening, Omi knocked on Ken's door. No answer.
Oh, no, he thought, did he fall asleep again? "Ken-kun?"
Then, a soft voice from inside. . . "Just come on in, Angel."
Omi turned the knob and pushed the door in. The apartment was dark, lit only by the candles that seemed to be everywhere. Delicious aromas wafted from the kitchen. He sat on the couch, clutching the box of chocolates he'd brought with him.
Ken emerged from the kitchen, wearing his blue terry bathrobe. Omi noticed it was drawn very tightly around his body. . .and he could see ripples in the fabric that suggested another garment worn underneath. Guess I'll find out soon enough what that is, he thought.
Ken sat next to Omi, drew him into his arms and kissed him. "Hi. . .gods, you look beautiful."
"So do you." He let his fingers play with the opening in the other boy's robe.
"Ah-ah-ah, not until after dinner," Ken said. "That's going to be a surprise."
Omi stood up and opened his backpack. "I have a surprise for you, too." He took out a couple of discs and moved to the stereo. Soon, the air was filled with the sound of a sultry soul ballad.
"I put every bit of romantic music I had on those discs," Omi said.
"Oooh, nice," Ken said. He went over to Omi, pulling him close, crushing his lips against the younger boy's. The sensual music just served to fan the flames in his blood, which blazed even hotter as Omi's tongue began to brush against his. He let his hands slide over his lover's body, grabbing and squeezing his bottom, making Omi purr loudly. . .
An insistent pinging noise from the kitchen interrupted them. They broke apart, slowly, reluctlantly.
"Time to eat," Ken said, softly, brushing hair from Omi's eyes.
Omi merely nodded. They kissed again, briefly, then Ken took Omi's hand and led him into the kitchen.
During the meal, they couldn't take their eyes off each other. Ken made sure than when Omi was looking at him, he licked his chopsticks. . .very slowly. Omi giggled, and did the same thing.
"Bad boy," Ken teased. "Didn't anyone ever tell you not to lick your chopsticks?"
Omi looked at him with a mischievous twinkle in his eye. "Only when I *don't* want to say I want to sleep with you' to someone."
Ken leaned over and whispered in his ear, "I'm going to hold you to that. You won't be able to escape."
"I wouldn't want to," Omi giggled.
They finished their food, and the disc they were listening to ended. The CD changer spun, and another song began, a ballad made for slow-dancing.
Ken stood up, holding his arms out to Omi. "Shall we?"
Omi leaned over and kissed him. "Yes."
They moved into the living room. Slowly, their arms came up around each other, sqeezing tightly. Their bodies swayed in time to the music, and Omi lowered his head to his lover's shoulder, inhaling deeply, breathing in his clean, spicy scent like it was the sweetest perfume in the world.
"I love you so much, Angel," Ken whispered. "You're the one thing that keeps me sane in the middle of all the craziness we have to live though."
"Ken-kun. . .I feel the same way about you. You're the best thing in my life by far."
They kissed, sweetly, tenderly, then with more fire, Omi's lips opening with a gasp as Ken's tongue pressed gently against them. They arched their bodies together, moving their hips in slow circles, caressing and rubbing up against each other. Each felt a slow warmth start to spread in his belly, and a small noise of pleasure escaped from Ken's lips.
Ken pulled away from Omi, and Omi groaned in disappointment. . .until Ken put the tie of his robe into Omi's hand.
"Go on," he said. "Now you can see the surprise."
Omi paused a second, letting his mind run through various possibilities of what it could be. . .then undid the tie and pushed the robe to the floor. Underneath, Ken wore another robe. . .but this one was knee-length black satin with three-quarter sleeves. Omi ran his palms up and down Ken's chest. It was soft, silky. . .seductive.
"Oooh," he said. "Nice."
"There's more I want to show you," Ken said. "But you'll have to see it. . .in the bedroom."
They kissed, long, lingering, their tongues softly caressing each other. Then, they headed down the hall, hand in hand.
Once the door closed behind them, Ken grabbed Omi in his arms and kissed him firecely. The younger boy melted, every muscle in his body feeling like it was turning to water. His mouth opened with a gasp, and his tongue eagerly sought Ken's. They touched lightly, then began to stroke each other, hungrily.
The boys tumbled to the bed together, rolling over and over until Omi was on top. He took his lips from Ken's at last, nipping at his earlobe and running his tongue down his neck.
"Ohh," Ken moaned. "So good, Angel. . ."
"Time for the next surprise," Omi said. He opened the nighttable drawer and removed three glass phials, holding them up so Ken could see.
"Oils?" Ken said.
"Massage oils! See, there's three different kinds. . .and they're supposed to taste good, too!" He rolled off Ken and handed him the bottles.
Ken uncorked them, sniffing one by one. Spices. . .strawberries. . .citrus. . .
"I thought you'd be sick of floral scents," Omi said with a smile. "I know I am."
"Hmm," Ken said, "nice. Well, I guess if you're going to use those, you're going to have to get rid of. . ." he gestured to his robe ". . .this."
Omi put the bottles aside. "What a shame. . .but I guess I have to." He reached down and took the satin tie in his hand, pulling at it until it parted. He pushed aside the fabric, and underneath. . .
"Oh, Ken-Ken!" His eyes took in the matching, silky black boxers. "This is. . .SO sexy!"
"Mmm," Ken said. "Like it? I bought them just to wear for you, you know."
"Beautiful!" Omi picked up one of the oil bottles, the spicy one, and said, "Now roll on your stomach."
Ken obeyed, and Omi drizzled the contents of the container on his back. He stepped away for a second, and stripped off his own clothing until he, too, was clad only in his underwear. He knelt next to Ken and began to rub his shoulders in slow, wide circles, feeling the slickness of the oil over the softness of his skin. The scent of it, combined with the natural scent of Ken, was filling his nose, his lungs, his entire being.
"Umm," Ken purred. "Nice. . .*real* nice. . .lower, now. . ."
Omi began to work his way down, moving his hands over his middle and lower back, his fingertips brushing along the spine. When he was just above the waistband of his boxers, he paused, rubbing hard in one spot.
Ken gasped as Omi's fingers worked their magic on him. He was feeling relaxed, so relaxed. . .and hot. He found himself raising his hips, lifting his bottom up toward the younger boy, gasping as his heart pounded with excitement.
Omi paused, toying with the waistband of the shorts. "Guess we're going to have to get rid of these, too."
"I'll sacrifice them," Ken panted. "Please, Omi. . .touch me. . .more. . ."
Slowly, Omi lowered the black satin, his excitement building as he saw the sensual curve of Ken's bottom being revealed. He bent over to nip at it, and Ken let out a little cry. "Omi. . .oh, Omi. . ."
"Relax, Ken," he purred, pouring oil onto the cheeks before him. His lover let out another loud moan as he started to stroke, knead, massage. . .Omi took the right buttock in his hand and gave it a gentle, yet firm squeeze, then the left, then the right. . .
"Yes, love," Ken moaned. "Like that. .. .just like that. . ."
Omi squeezed some more, feeling his own manhood get harder and harder still in response.He bent so he could kiss Ken's shoulders and neck, murmuring, "Hmm, they weren't lying. . .it *does* taste nice."
"Gods," Ken moaned. "Omi. . .please. . .please, let me do it to you. . ."
Omi sat up, handing the oil to Ken. "Sure. . ." He took his lover's place face-down on the bed.
Ken just gazed at him for a moment, the golden hair reflecting the candlelight, the sinful curve of his tempting bottom in his underwear. He was innocence and he was the promise of carnal delight. It was a combination that never failed to make the older boy hotter than hell.
He spread the oil along Omi's back and began to rub, massaging deep and slow. He wished he had a second pair of hands so he could explore the rest of his body at the same time. . .rub his bottom, reach under him and play with his nipples, his manhood. . .
He began to imagine Omi lying in front of a roaring fireplace on a white fur rug. He didn't have a fireplace, had never had one. . .but the idea was so romantic, so sexy. . .He imagined feeling the heat of the fire and the heat of the boy's body at once. . .
Omi giggled. "Ken-Ken, *I'm* the one being massaged, and *you're* moaning!"
"I can't help it. You make me nuts, baby, absolutely crazy." He had massaged down to Omi's underwear, and he grabbed the waistband in a silent plea to get rid of them. Omi nodded his head "yes."
Ken stripped the garment off and tossed it on the floor. He poured more oil and ran his fingers slowly, up and down his buttocks. So round. . .so firm. . .so delicious to the touch. . .He kneaded, squeezed, massaged, rubbing his palms slowly up and down the curve, pausing to pour more oil, then massaging again. When he let his oil-slicked fingers explore the crevice between, the other boy let out a whimper.
At that moment, Ken's self-control broke and he lay atop Omi,. rubbing his whole body against his lover's, nipples brushing on his back, thighs clutching thighs. His lips brushed Omi's neck, his teeth nipping at one little sensitive spot that made Omi groan as a luscious shudder passed through him. The oil on his cheeks made him slick, warm, soft, slippery. . .his manhood slid along the crevice, making both of them moan. Every bit of nerves in Ken's body seemed to be charged with electricity, standing on edge. . .
He pulled away a second, panting, and Omi flipped over. Both of them reached for phials of oil at the same time, Ken pouring it on Omi's chest, Omi slicking his hands and reaching up for Ken. Their hands moved over soft skin, rubbing and stroking, seeking and finding nipples. . .Omi rubbed his thumbs over Ken's hardening knots, feeling the thundering of his partner's heart underneath. He squeezed one gently between thumb and forefinger, and felt Ken mimick the motion. They both gasped as pleasure surged through them.
Omi sat up a bit, wrapped an arm around Ken, and rolled them over again, so he was on top. "I have another surprise," he whispered.
"Oh? What is it?"
"Close your eyes."
Ken did as he was told. There was the opening of the nighttable drawer again. . .and then, a strange sensation on his inner thigh. Soft, tickly, very pleasant. . .the thing that was brushing him began to move upward, by degress, and he let out a groan. What was it? A powder puff, perhaps? It wasn't. . .*solid* enough to be fabric. . .
Then, it connected with his manhood, and he jumped, crying out. It slid up and down, soft, oh, oh so soft, making him tingle and burn. A slow spiral along the shaft, as he whimpered, wondering how his body could contain so much sensation without exploding. . .then up to the head, where it brushed slowly, agonizingly slowly, as Ken's hips jerked, one strangled cry after another escaping him.
A pause, and then. . .Omi's head descended to Ken's chest, his tongue flicking at a nipple, then swirling around. . .and the soft thing was on his manhood again, moving back and forth, in a circle, then back and forth again. . .
"O. . .mi! Oh, gods, Angel! I'm gonna come. . oh, gods, I'm gonna come if you keep that up. . ."
The thing eased away from him, and Ken cried out in disappointment.
"Wanna see what it is?" Omi said. "Open your eyes."
Ken did, raised his head, and saw Omi holding. . .
"A feather duster?"
"Ta da!" Omi said excitedly. "I just got this sudden inspiration when I was cleaning. . .you know how tickly feather dusters feel about your skin, right? Well, I thought I'd use it for. . .this." He blushed.
Ken sat up and swept him into his arms, kissing him hard. "Naughty boy," he murmured. "You're not as innocent as you look."
Omi purred. "You made me this way."
"Ah, but *you* were the one who thought of the feather duster. And for that. . . l'm going to have to punish you."
Omi stiffened, a flash of genuine anxiety flying through him. He'd heard about "punishments" between lovers before, and they usually involved pain, real pain. He'd do just about anything for Ken, but he didn't know if he'd be able to do that. "What are you going to do?" he said, quietly.
Ken reached into the nighttable and pulled out a tube of KY and a condom, which he handed to Omi. "Your punishment is. . .you have to be seme."
Omi took the tube and foil packet and laughed. "That kind of punishment I can live with." He began to coat his fingers with lube as he saw Ken lying on his side, legs drawn up, his bottom looking as tempting as a ripe, juicy fruit. He settled behind the young man, kissing his neck, his finger begining to probe for Ken's entrance. . .
Ken felt Omi's first fumbling efforts to get inside. He opened his legs a bit more, pushing his hips back, anything to make entry easier. . .
And then, Omi penetrated, his finger sliding into a hot, tight channel. He moved it in and out, feeling Ken relax. . . "How's that?" he said.
"More," Ken moaned. "Give me more!"
Omi obeyed, taking the first finger off and wiping it, then lubing it along with a second. Ken felt the fingers fill him, and he let out a cry. Omi was so, so good at this! Gods, the boy had no idea. . .he was just born with an instinct for the male body, how to touch and caress for maximum sensation. . .
When a third finger joined the other two, Ken was near orgasm. "Hurry, Omi. . .please. . ."
"Sssh. Patience." He slid the fingers in and out, in and out, until Ken thought his entire body was ablaze.
"I don't want to be patient!" Ken cried. "Take me, Omi. . .I need it so much. . ."
Omi finally finished preparing his lover, and lay behind him, fitting his body against Ken's in a "spoon" fasion. Ken felt his hands part his buttocks, then the very tip of the boy's manhood against his entrance. He couldn't take the exquisite torment any more. He thrust his hips backward, impaling himself on Omi. Oh, it felt so good to be *filled,* so very filled!
"I love you so much," Ken murmured.
"I love you, too," Omi replied, and began to thurst, driving himself into Ken's tight heat, then pulling away, feeling his passage grip him, then release, grip, release. . .Pulses of delicious sensation began to run along Omi's skin, and his heart pounded. He reached a hand around Ken's body to grasp the other boy's manhood, stroking it up and down with firm, deliberate strokes, as he rubbed his own chest along Ken's back, his still oil-slicked nipples brushing, brushing, brushing again, only adding to the volcanic heat building and building within the boy. . .
"Ohh," Omi moaned. "Good. . .so good. . ."
Ken was totally beyond speech, beyond rational thought at that moment. He was lost in sensation, pleasure after pleasure flooding his body and soul. All he could do was thrust back, and thrust again, oh, he wanted to come, he needed to come so very, very much, he didn't know how much longer he could hold out before becoming totally mad. . .
And then, Omi's manhood hit a sweet spot inside him, and Ken stiffened, gasping. . .then the floodgates gave way. He shouted Omi's name as wave after wave of luscious blinding white light consumed him, and he released himself.
Omi felt Ken's climax, felt the muscles deep within him spasm, gripping Omi even tighter. . .That did it for him. He shrieked, ecstasy pulsing from his very soul to the tips of his fingers and toes.
Both boys went totally limp, panting and letting out soft murmurs and whispers, Omi's arms tight around Ken, holding them together, never wanting to let go.
Finally, Omi eased away enough to dispose of the condom, and they snuggled into each other's arms again, face-to-face this time.
"Worth the wait?" Omi said.
"More than worth it," Ken replied. "That was *so* unreal. . .oh GODS, that feather duster. . ."
Omi laughed. "Just a silly little idea I had."
"That silly little idea' was the sexiest damn thing I ever felt!"
"Really?" Omi looked pleased with himself, and hugged Ken tighter. "I'm so glad!"
"Mmm." Ken snuggled against his lover. "I'm *really* going to sleep after that!"
"Me, too. . .goodnight, Ken-Ken. I love you."
"I love you too, Angel."
* * *
"Geez. . .this place still looks like a war zone!" Yohji said.
It was the second day of the post-Valentine's Day cleanup. The store at least looked a little less like it had been stampeded by a herd of rabid elephants now.
"It'll look better tomorrow," Ken said, dumping another load of crushed-underfood stems and petals into the trash..
"It had better," Yohji said. "If it keeps looking like that, it'll drive all the women away!"
"Thought you didn't like them hanging around," said Ken.
"That's the *girls*. I'm talking about *women.* As in, of the legal age of consent."
"One-track mind," Ken sighed. He turned to Omi. "At least we have peace and quiet now."
Just then, a middle-aged woman in a maroon sweatsuit entered the flower shop. "Excuse me. . .I want to order a Girls' Day arrangement for my daughter."
Right behind her was a grey-haired woman in an equally grey dress. "Can I pre-order a Girls' Day arrangement for my granddaughter?"
Behind her. . .a portly woman in a muu muu. "I need five Girls' Day bouquets for my daughter and stepdaughters. . ."
Ken clapped a hand on Yohji's shoulder. "Yohji. . .be careful what you wish for. You may get it."
He and Omi exchanged looks. We should have known, he thought. Hina Matsuri . .Girls' Day. . .was just a couple of weeks after Valentine's Day. Just when they thought things had settled down. . .
"Here we go again," Ken said.
AUTHORS NOTES: A million thanks to my editor, Steve Savage, who took time out from his busy schedule to read and comment on this. Thanks also to pre-readers Cheyne and Sonya-chan, and to everyones whos commented on my previous Weiss stories.
Weiss Kreuz is owned by Koyasu Takehito and Project Weiss. These characters aint mine, Im just borrowing them for a little while.