Welwyn Garden Wonder
"Landscape designer Folake creates gardens for wealthy clients—but the thick Guinean heiress who wants a private paradise has ideas that involve very personal planting."
The estate was massive.
Mariama Camara had inherited millions and wanted a garden worthy of them.
"Something sensual," she instructed. "A space for pleasure. Privacy. Indulgence."
Folake sketched while stealing glances at her client. Thick curves wrapped in silk. Eyes that promised trouble.
"I can create that."
"I know you can." Mariama moved closer. "I researched you thoroughly."
The project took months.
Regular consultations where Mariama's input went beyond plants.
"More hidden alcoves," she suggested. "Places where one could... relax."
"For meditation?"
"Among other things." That smile again. "When can I see your night-blooming jasmine?"
"That's not—"
"I know what I said."
The garden was nearly complete when it happened.
Midnight. Mariama had insisted on seeing the night-blooming flowers.
"Beautiful," she breathed. "You've created something magical."
"It's just plants."
"It's desire made visible." She turned. "Like you."
In the garden she'd designed, Folake became part of the landscape.
Mariama pressed her against an ancient tree, hands exploring like roots seeking water.
"I've wanted this since the first consultation," Mariama admitted.
"This wasn't in the contract."
"Consider it a bonus."
On the soft grass, surrounded by the garden's fragrance, they celebrated the creation.
Mariama's thick body was a landscape of its own—hills and valleys to explore, secret gardens to discover.
"You're magnificent," Folake gasped.
"So is your work." Mariama kissed her. "Both kinds."
The garden won design awards.
But the private paradise Mariama had requested?
That was Folake herself.
"Best commission I ever took," Folake said.
"Best designer I ever hired," Mariama agreed.
Welwyn Garden City had never seen such dedicated horticulture.