Northampton Nights
"Shoe factory owner Adaeze's new designer—a thick Mauritian woman named Priya—fits more than just lasts during their late-night creative sessions."
Northampton built shoes.
Adaeze's factory built the best.
When Priya walked in with a portfolio that redefined design, Adaeze knew she had to hire her.
What she didn't know was how hard working together would become.
"The heel needs adjustment," Adaeze said, leaning over Priya's shoulder.
"Adjust it yourself." Those thick curves pressed back. "I'll watch."
The late nights were necessary.
Deadlines demanded them. Desire made them dangerous.
"You're staring," Priya observed.
"You're beautiful."
"That's not professional."
"Neither is the way you look at me."
"Then we're equally unprofessional."
The factory floor was empty at midnight.
Just leather, lasts, and two women who'd been circling each other for weeks.
"This is a terrible idea," Adaeze said.
"I know." Priya pushed her against the workbench. "I'm doing it anyway."
Among the half-finished shoes and scraps of leather, they found each other.
Priya's thick body was soft everywhere Adaeze touched. Her moans echoed off the machinery.
"God, you're good at this," Priya gasped.
"Attention to detail. Essential in shoemaking."
"Show me more detail."
The collection launched to rave reviews.
But the real creation happened after hours.
"Partners?" Priya suggested. "In business and everything else?"
"That complicates things."
"Things were already complicated." She kissed Adaeze softly. "Now they're just honest."
Northampton's finest shoes bore both their names.
And the late-night sessions continued, long after the deadlines were met.
Some fits, they learned, were worth taking time to perfect.
And some partnerships exceeded all expectations.