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Crescent
Super-Earth
- Joined
- Mar 26, 2013
The morning's sunlight streamed through the glassed in ceiling, greeting the exotic and varied collection of plant life that dwelt within the greenhouse. Casually humming a soft, romantic tune, was their caretaker as she spritzed the various flora with her spray bottle. "Good morning my darlings," cooed Pamela Isley to her plants. "We are looking to have a beautiful day today, and I know you are all eager to grow big and strong for me." She extended her hand and lovingly caressed leaves of several of the different species that made up her greenhouse garden.
She was dressed in an olive-colored silk nightshirt that extended down just below her hips. Her luscious red hair hung in a loose ponytail along her back. Such was her outfit on mornings like this, passing the early part of the day alone about the single floor cottage and the much larger greenhouse that shared a lonely hill out in the country, some 15 miles from the nearest small town. Gone were the days where Pamela dressed to impress (and often seduce) the world of men. Sometimes she missed her more glamorous past, with her vibrant red attire dresses, cut deliciously low over her chest and tight about her hips, the sparkling heels she so trotted about in, and the cherry red lipstick that made her kisses to die for. Also in her past was the time she could only wear a coarse orange jumpsuit that marked her lengthy stay at Arkham. Those days, Pamela had no desire to revisit.
The sound of a whistling teapot let Pamela know that her tea water was boiling. "I'll be back soon, my lovelies," she called to her plants, offering them a few more spritz of water as she left the greenhouse for the kitchen inside her cottage. Once her tea was prepared, Pamela settled down into seat overlooking a large bay window. She liked to spend her mornings there, sipping tea and watching the sunlight rise over the forest at the bottom of her hill while thinking about her day.
Her next crop of "playthings", as she liked to call them, would be ready soon, after just a bit more careful pruning to ensure their shape. Within a week she ought to have another shipment sent out. The demand for the phallic instruments was hot, surprising even her, after word of mouth spread among the women of Gotham that the new "Poison" brand of sex toys was unlike any dildo they've experienced. It delighted Pamela that her organic solution was meeting the needs of so many, while earning her a tidy profit. Even more exciting was the next Poison product that Pamela had been cultivating of late. Unlike her last product, though, this one needed a partner to properly test. That would be a problem for another day.
She was dressed in an olive-colored silk nightshirt that extended down just below her hips. Her luscious red hair hung in a loose ponytail along her back. Such was her outfit on mornings like this, passing the early part of the day alone about the single floor cottage and the much larger greenhouse that shared a lonely hill out in the country, some 15 miles from the nearest small town. Gone were the days where Pamela dressed to impress (and often seduce) the world of men. Sometimes she missed her more glamorous past, with her vibrant red attire dresses, cut deliciously low over her chest and tight about her hips, the sparkling heels she so trotted about in, and the cherry red lipstick that made her kisses to die for. Also in her past was the time she could only wear a coarse orange jumpsuit that marked her lengthy stay at Arkham. Those days, Pamela had no desire to revisit.
The sound of a whistling teapot let Pamela know that her tea water was boiling. "I'll be back soon, my lovelies," she called to her plants, offering them a few more spritz of water as she left the greenhouse for the kitchen inside her cottage. Once her tea was prepared, Pamela settled down into seat overlooking a large bay window. She liked to spend her mornings there, sipping tea and watching the sunlight rise over the forest at the bottom of her hill while thinking about her day.
Her next crop of "playthings", as she liked to call them, would be ready soon, after just a bit more careful pruning to ensure their shape. Within a week she ought to have another shipment sent out. The demand for the phallic instruments was hot, surprising even her, after word of mouth spread among the women of Gotham that the new "Poison" brand of sex toys was unlike any dildo they've experienced. It delighted Pamela that her organic solution was meeting the needs of so many, while earning her a tidy profit. Even more exciting was the next Poison product that Pamela had been cultivating of late. Unlike her last product, though, this one needed a partner to properly test. That would be a problem for another day.