Page 6 of Baking With A Ghost

"I've never really thought about it. Did something happen?"

Her non judgmental tone encourages me to go on.

"Well, sort of. There was a letter left in my box this morning and all that was written was to meet this mysterious person at the coffee shop and they'd tell me about the ghost who lives here."

Ivy's high pitched laugh fills my ear and I miss her even more hearing it. "Do you think it's real? Who would leave a note like that?"

"I don't know because nobody knows me here. I haven't had any ghostly encounters or anything. Maybe I'll just ignore it."

"But what if it's real and there's some merit to it? You should check it out."

"Should I?"

"Listen, John. I'm in the parking lot and I need to go in, but if it concerns you, maybe you should see what they have to say. At the very least it's a new friend, right?"

"Right as always. Have a great day, my friend. Thanks for the call. I'll let you know."

Hanging up the phone, I restart my music just as the timer goes off on the oven.

I rush to get the bread out, but my face falls as I carry it over to the cooling rack. It's very heavy and I'm not optimistic about the flavour.

After allowing it to cool for a few minutes, I can’t wait any longer. I cut into the loaf, eager to see how it tastes and if I finally nailed it. The first touch to my tongue has me cringe, not enough orange and something in it has morphed into a hideously salty taste. Perhaps I accidentally used too much salt?

It's a definite miss. Maybe I need to give up on my own secret recipe making and focus on my tried and true recipes instead. I do need to have something trusted and tasty to sell or this business will close before it gets started.

I make a note in my book about what I tried, noting the results, and call it a day on experimenting.

Turning up the music, I throw myself into the real baking and watch the sun rise on another gorgeous day.

John

Was it a Dream?

"Whataweek,Snowball."

Snowball meows, running up to me and swooshing through my legs as I make my way over to collapse on the sofa. My first week of being open to the public was a huge success. I can breathe a little easier, now that I know the community better. It's always hard moving to a new town, add on trying to start a business and it's even more nerve wracking.

Snowball jumps up, nestling on my stomach, after punching me in the junk with her feet. "Ooof. You need to plan your landings better, missy."

She ignores my warning, throwing shade like only a cat can, and makes herself comfortable, assuming I have no need to ever move. Absently stroking her fur, my mind wanders back to the previous fall, when I was verbally abused on the daily by someone who I thought loved me. Thank god Ivy finally helped me see how toxic my relationship was. Since leaving, I've never felt more like myself. I may only have a cat to talk to right now, but I'm not afraid to use my own voice anymore. Or do what I want.

I had one hookup before I left the city for good, and when he asked me what I wanted to do, for the first time in years I voiced my desires with no fear of how it would be received. My eyes drift closed and I remember how I felt, not just sexually, with my cock so far down his throat he gave new meaning to the term sword swallower, but also the freedom I had to tell him what I wanted. My ex was a selfish lover, and now that I don't have to worry about angering him with my requests in the bedroom, I'm a new man.

I've regained my independence and found my self esteem. Self confidence oozes from every pore of my body. I'm going to slay this bakery business and find the one person who matches me best. Someone who will encourage me when I'm down and celebrate when I'm up. I'm done being a doormat.

The cat's loud purring acts like white noise and soothes me until I feel myself drifting off to sleep. It's early afternoon but I've been awake since 3 A.M. and a nap is justified.

What I didn’t expect was my dream.

Iboltupright,almostrolling onto the floor, as my breath leaves my lungs in one drawn out gasp. It's not often I remember my dreams, but this one... I whip my head around to the bay window looking out over the orphaned river and forest. There's no one there and my heart rate slows from a gallop to something more pedestrian .There's a sign of the dream still lingering though, and it's the painful erection I'm going to have to do something about.

Glancing at the bay window seat again, I shake my head as I unzip my pants.

"A dream that good shouldn't be wasted." Dropping my head back, my breath still shallow with excitement, I close my eyes again and replay the scorching hot dream.

A beautiful man, with gorgeous pale skin and a mop of brown hair, kneels on the cushion in the bay window, doubled over and leaning forward to take me in his mouth, while I stand. It's uncomfortable for him at best, but he insisted. Who was I to complain? He jerks his own cock and moans around mine. Saliva runs down his chin and my balls. His lips are red and swollen with his efforts and when he glances up at me, his deep brown eyes are glazed with the same lust I feel. He swallows me so deep at times, I swear I must be hitting his insides. I groan out loud, wishing it wasn't a dream at all, but happy to have such a vision in which to get myself off to. I'm surprised I hadn't come in my pants while I was asleep.

My hand slides faster along my shaft, using my own saliva to imagine the same slick feeling of his mouth. When he releases my aching cock, his chest heaves in breath after breath and I wipe away the tears at the corners of his eyes. Wordlessly, he turns on his hands and knees, tilting his lily white ass in the air and pleading with his giant, doe brown eyes for me to take him. Gripping his hips, I slide my slicked up cock through his crack, ready to enter his tight hole. That's when I woke up.

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