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Saturday, June 19, 2010
Obsidian: The See Through Rock by Olivia Huff
Matthew regretted having to knock on the door of the farm house so late at night but it couldn't be helped. His students would be waiting bright and early for him in the morning, and he couldn't disappoint them. He was an archaeologist, and the class covered the making of tools. Knowing the process would help the small group of aspiring archaeologists recognize artifacts when they were out in the field on a dig.
The hand painted sign by the driveway said Rock Shop. It was obviously some old duffer's backyard hobby. Matthew desperately hoped that he would have a few chunks of obsidian or flint lying around in one of the shacks and sheds on the property.
But it wasn't a crusty old rock hound who answered the door. It was a woman. She clutched a long, soft red robe tighter around her well rounded form, but not before Matthew caught a glimpse of the swell of her breasts over a tight black opaque teddy.
"May I help you?" Her voice was pleasant. Cultured and friendly. She half smiled and waited for his reply.
"I don't like to bother you so late at night but I'm desperate. I'm teaching an early morning class in arrowhead making. Would you happen to have obsidian for sale?"
She stepped out of the house, onto the porch. Matthew could see droplets of moisture on her skin and dampness in her silky blond hair. He detected the scent of lavender soap. Obviously she had just showered and was getting ready for bed. It was doubtful a woman like her would go to bed alone. Again, he felt a pang of guilt at disturbing her evening.
Her smile widened. "As a matter of fact, I do have obsidian. I just made a trade this afternoon with a gentleman who was passing through from California. My algae jasper for his obsidian. I think I got a good deal. Wait here. I'll put on some shoes and go find it for you."
She emerged a minute later wearing red marabou slippers with high heels. He followed her out to her workshop, catching glimpses of her long, bare legs as she strode athletically over the stones in her driveway. He couldn't help but wonder how someone like her got interested in rocks and minerals.
The shelves of her shop were lined with sparkling crystal specimens. "Do you know a lot about crystal healing?" he asked. "Metaphysics?"
Her laughter rang out. "Oh, goodness no! I'm not into that at all. I read geology, though. And I do some illustrations for a mineralogy website."
He had a strange and unexplained desire to tell her how much intelligent women excited him.
He also noticed that the work area housed several sizes of rock saws. "Do you cut your own rocks? Or does your husband help you?"
"There's no husband. I'm a single gal."
Matthew was pleased to hear those words. "How much do you want for that black obsidian?" he asked.
"Does five dollars a pound sound about right? This piece is about two pounds, I think."
"Sounds good to me. Do you have change for a hundred dollar bill?"
She frowned. "No, I'm sorry I don't. But you can take the rock and stop back with the money anytime."
He noticed then that the tie on her robe had loosened. Her black teddy was fairly opaque, but a shadowed triangle was visible at the juncture of her firm thighs. He said, "That's very kind and generous of you. I will take you up on your offer. And I will be back soon."
She smiled. "I know you will", she replied softly. "I have no doubt about that."
About the Author: Olivia Hoff lives on the family farm in northern Minnesota, where she is the proprietor of an old-fashioned rock shop. She writes web articles, confessions, poetry, plays, and short fiction. Her other interests are earth science, history, music, gardening, outdoors, horses, dogs, cats, and arts and crafts. http://www.oliviahoff.com