Beyond The Door

Six women sit in the shed, behind the blue door. The entrance is lined with wood, split and stacked, but if you are lucky enough to be invited beyond the thick heavy red velvet drapes, there’s a sanctum of a room, a large stainless steel table dominating the centre. Candles are lit.
“We has to let them in. The troubles is too great.”
“Pass the bottles Annie and whisht yer hole. We are not letting them in and we are not telling them.”
“Can you imagine, just imagine, how lives could change if they knew what we know?”
“Hector McBridie’s wife might smile yet in this lifetime.”
“Aye, just one look at her and you know she’s not had the happiest of thoughts.”
“Aye, she could do wi’ a wee bit o’ lovin’ and attention.”
Bottles gather in the centre of the steel table. Weighing scales, glass beakers, crystal wand stirrers. Light reflects from the contents of the bottles.
“Here’s a new jar of coconut oil” says Lia. “And it’s liquid fractionated.
And we have the Eco-Silk.”
The ladies sit.
“Jojoba oil?”
“Check”
“Coconut oil”
“Check”
“Comfrey oil.”
“Check”
“Calendula Oil”
“Check”
“Arnica oil”
“Check”
Vitamin E oil”
“Check”
“Rosemary Anitoxidant”
“Check”
“Eco Silk”
“Check”.
They know to breathe into their hearts now, removing any known negativity from their immediate awareness.
“Thank you GayDay Girls for this lucrative order. We aim to make you the finest sexy massage oil for ladies, based on our Mothers’ ancient recipes.”
“We need a consignment of one hundred jars sent in the morning’s post,” says Olive, Head of Operations. “This lot is already sold to a sex therapist in Brighton. After this we will need a hundred atomisers of lube.”
“The lubricant is very popular now” says Annie. “I wish we’d had it when I was menopausal.”
“I still think we should be teaching everyone how to make their own.” says Lia. “It would empower all the younger women here.”
“We have to invite the McSkinker and McBridie in, you know it makes sense. First, then they won’t be so afraid of the shed, or us. Second, if they get the hang of making this stuff, then we can go to our graves happy, knowing we changed the course of history.”
“What are you talking about?” says Olive. “Change the course of history is it? Those boys’ll never change. Rich arseholes with nothing better to do than make trouble.”
“Don’t you see,” says Beverley, weighing out drops of Calendula oil she grew herself “If we teach the likes of McBridie how to bring pleasure to his woman, through something so simple, then we change the outcome of her life.”
“How is it ever going to change anything?”
“Because he will have created something beautiful, with his own hands and he will want to try it out.”
“And we all knows what happens when the magic oils are tested” says Lia.
Six women laugh their tits off, mixing unctions.

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