Baker’s Bakery is a deceptively small shop sitting just across the park from Anteronia’s Statue Park. There, the people on their morning commute are tempted by the wafting scents of freshly baked goods and treats and the addicting bitterness of coffee, and while the place serves as a mostly casual experience in the morning, the mood changes as the evening rolls around.
Lovemore steps out of the carriage, adjusting his glasses and checking the laces of his casual evening gown, which covers his neck and leaves his arms free. He holds out a hoof and bows gently, taking the mechanical hand of his beloved.
Lerato steps out, her hooves clopping over the pavement. She wears something with a plunging neckline and tiny straps, exposing to the world the powerful neck and shoulders of one used to working with heavy tools.
“So, tell me, hubby bear, how much did this cost again?” She asks, entering the building with his hand and hoof.
“Less than you think,” replies their fawning friend, squeezing his cloven digits against her glove’s mechanical fingers.
“But more than I’d want to know?” she responds, smirking.
The doors to the establishment open, held in their position by three buzzing bees dressed in the pink uniforms of the establishments.
“Welcome, welcome!” says one.
“Please enjoy your stay,” chirps the second.
“And be sure to let us know if you need anything.”
As the two pass into the main establishment, the front of the house is relatively empty, with only the clinking of dishes to be heard in the back and the wafting of scents to join them.
“Pretty empty for a famous establishment, don’t you think?” asks Lerato.
Through a doorstep, the graceful figure of the shop’s proprietor, Baker, flutters one visible eye past the long locks covering half his face. This evening, his competition is cakey, with dots of different colors sprinkling throughout, making him look quite freckled in deliberate but natural ways.
“Why, hello, sweet things,” says the proprietor in a breathy voice, getting down on one knee to be eye-level with the two, placing a hand upon his chest and another holding out toward the two. “Welcome, Mr. Lovemore, and this must be the dik-dik of the day, Dearest Lerato?”
“My wife, yes. She’s been working very hard on a project of hers and, well,” he leans in and whispers, loud enough to show the performance in it all. “It’s the anniversary of our first successful adventure together.”
Lerato blushes, clasping her gloves to her cheeks. “H-honey, you… what? It is, I…”
“Lost all track of time? It’s to be expected. I’ve always been the timekeeper of our party,” Lovemore says, pushing up his glasses and smirking smugly.
“Well, madam, you will not have to keep track of time here tonight,” says Baker, retracting his hand and then revealing it again. This time, a small cupcake graces his palm. “For tonight, you get everything you could want to indulge in.
Lerato pinches the tiny thing in her hand and examines it from the whispy frosting on top to the paper below. She squeezes the wrapping, pulling it apart. So perfectly presented is it that it peels away without taking a single crumb with it, leaving the cake itself an artistic mold of the crinkling of the wrapper.
She rolls out her tongue, pressing it to the frosting, and slowly flicks it off the cake, bringing the sugary swirl inside her mouth and swallowing.
“Fascinating,” says the baker.
“It’s delightful,” says Lerato, popping the rest of the tiny cupcake in her mouth. “Mmmm!”
Lovemore clasps his hooves together, tapping his foot hooves one after another. “Oh, do you love it, my deer?”
Lerato wraps her arms around herself, standing on one hoof and swaying back and forth. “Mmm, it’s so fruity and juicy, and the cake's fluffiness melts between each chew.” She gulps. “And what fruits are in that?”
“Oh, so many! Thanks to my good friend Tik Tik, I can access the Grand Caravan and all sorts of wondrous delights to make new creations!”
Lerato smirks, dragging her gloved thumb over her lip and sucking on the frosting left over there. “Oh, indeed? You’ll definitely have to tell me more about that.”
“Why don’t we continue our conversation in the delectables room? Your husband has purchased a lovely experience to enjoy as you see fit.” He stands up and motions to the door from whence he came.
“But,” the baker says, a glimmer in his eye as he speaks ot the lady dik-dik, “I must hear from your heart what it is you’re comfortable with.”
With a hand on her hip and a sassy sway, Lerato turns to Lovemore,” Oh, I see. Was my hubby trying to surprise me when I knew all about the Baker’s special?”
Lovemore kicks the ground, arms behind his back. “Maybe…?”
Baker squats before them, saying. “Well, there is one thing he said, and I wanted to make sure with both of you here that you were fine with it before we got into anything uncomfortable. He said you would be the queen this evening, and I would service you however you desire.”
She quirks a brow. “Lots of singular pronouns there, and what are you going to do?” she asks, turning toward Lovemore, hands on his shoulders.
“Ah, m-me? Well, the night is so expensive a-and I really couldn’t afford enough to indulge as well and…” he bites his lip. “I kinda was hoping to get some studying done out here.”
Lerato strokes her hubby’s cheek and leans in, giving him a kiss. “Aw, poor Lovemore. You needed a break from your hot wife riding your dick every night?”
He squeaks.
She pulls him in and whispers, “You just do whatever you want.”
“You know I will, lover,” he responds.
The two of them then embrace, kissing delightfully in the middle of the entryway.
“Well, I’ll go get myself ready for you, Madam. You two enjoy yourselves a little longer and come in when you’re ready.”