Herne Hill Honey | NEON LIT

Derek needed organic honey—thirty jars for a contamination lawsuit. The Herne Hill farmers market had one vendor who could help, and she was not what he expected.

Efua was Ghanaian-British, dressed in flowing fabrics, with curves that defied her earthy aesthetic. She moved among her jars like she was dancing, and her smile was as golden as her product.

"Thirty jars? That's my entire stock."

"I'll pay premium. It's for a good cause."

"Tell me about this cause."

By the time he finished explaining—chemicals in soil, sick children, corporate negligence—she was offering him more than just honey.

"Lunch. My apiary. I'll show you where it all comes from."

The apiary was in her back garden, a surprisingly large space hidden behind a Victorian terrace. Bees hummed in their boxes, flowers bloomed everywhere, and Efua moved among them like a queen.

"They don't sting you?"

"They know me. Respect me." She turned to face him. "Do you respect me, Derek?"

"I barely know you."

"Then let's fix that."

She kissed him there among the bees, the sun warm on their skin, the smell of honey everywhere. Her body was soft and full against his—thick curves beneath flowing fabric.

"Come inside. I want to show you something else I make."

Her cottage was cozy, cluttered with jars and equipment. But the bedroom was pristine—white sheets, soft light, waiting for them.

"You planned this," he said.

"I hoped." She began unwrapping her clothing. "Is that okay?"

"More than okay."

Her body was incredible—thick thighs, full hips, breasts heavy with weight that made his hands ache to hold them. She dripped honey onto her own skin and invited him to taste.

"Sweet enough?"

He licked trails of honey from her curves, from her breasts, from her thick belly, from between her thighs where she was sweetest of all. She moaned as his tongue explored her.

"Yes... there... don't stop..."

She came with the taste of honey still on his lips, then pulled him up to take her properly. Her thick legs wrapped around him as he entered her slowly.

"Fill me. Like the bees fill the comb."

He moved with her rhythm—slow, building, purposeful. She came again, crying out to the cottage ceiling, and he followed, collapsing into her sweetness.

"Best business meeting I've ever had," he managed.

She laughed, rich and warm. "This is just the beginning."

"The lawsuit," she said later, feeding him honeycomb in bed. "I want to help. Beyond just supplies."

"How?"

"I know land. Know what's natural and what isn't. I can testify."

"That could take months."

"Good." She climbed on top of him again. "Means you'll have to keep coming back. For consultations."

"Very thorough consultations?"

"The most thorough."

His Herne Hill honey was the sweetest thing he'd ever found. And Derek had every intention of coming back to the source.