Sugar and Spice and Oh, So Nice: A Sapphic Christmas Cookie Novella by Persephone C. Walker

Author:Persephone C. Walker [Walker, Persephone C.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Books at the Creamery, LLC
Published: 2025-12-15T00:00:00+00:00

“Oh. My. God.” Clem could barely speak over the pounding of her heart. Her breath came in gasps. “That was …there aren’t even words for what that was.” Hazel stretched out beside her, languorous and smug. Clem looked over at her and wheezed out a laugh. “Do you know how hot smug looks on you?”

“I mean, I took the form you would find most attractive, so I can hardly take credit for that.” Hazel seemed unconcerned by how dismissive that came out.

Clem furrowed her brow. She pushed up onto an elbow and stared down at the sprite in her bed. “No. That’s not true. Smug is intrinsic. It wouldn’t matter what your outsides looked like. That feeling — the way smug melts into the essence of you — that is what’s hot about it.”

“The way smug melts into the essence of you … Clementine Baker, you could write some popular books with that sort of talk.” Hazel grinned up at her. Clem reached up a hand to sweep a lock of hair from Hazel’s cheek.

“Honestly, I would love to do that.” The words burst out of Clem before she could stop them. She sighed, then ducked her head, suddenly bashful.

Two fingers touched her chin, gently urging her to look back at Hazel. “Tell me.”

“I don’t think there’s too much to tell.” Clem said. Hazel had already rocked her world several times over, but somehow this felt even more vulnerable. This was touching something close to her center, the very core of her being. Clem had wanted to be a writer — a published author — since she was a kid. Ages ago a teacher had seen the sensitive student who used fiction to tell her truths, and had encouraged her to write more. It had ignited a dream inside Clem: the hope of connecting with people through her stories.

She didn’t think she could tell all of that to Hazel, though. She had only just met this woman. Clem flushed, thinking about all she had done with someone who was barely more than a stranger.

“What’s the blush for?” Hazel asked, reaching up to touch Clem’s cheek.

“Oh,” Clem faltered. “I was just thinking about tonight.” It wasn’t a complete lie, but something about it felt wrong. “And how I don’t even know you. I mean, obviously I know you, but … you know.”

“I know,” Hazel said with a soft smile. She tapped Clem’s cheek. “Tell me about the writing, ” she repeated.

Normally, when people asked about her stories, they did it in a way that made Clem feel deeply vulnerable — too vulnerable to tell the whole truth when someone asked her about what she wanted to do.

But something about the way Hazel said it made Clem’s heart shiver. This was someone who would listen to her and wouldn’t laugh or judge or demand to read her work. Clem drew a deep breath and closed her eyes, then started speaking before she could second guess it.

“I work a pretty soulless job. I mean, I think it’s soulless, but the rest of my department is all in on it.

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