Louie’s Luscious Little Lemons

“Try this one Margie.” Louie said, holding up the tiny yellow fruit between his thumb and index finger. It was half an inch long. “You’re gonna love it.”

I pinched the miniature lemon from in-between his chubby fingers, and took a closer look. The surface was yellow and waxy, with tiny dimples evenly spaced across the surface. “It looks too good to be real. Is it candy?”

“Jeez Louise.” He rolled his eyes for effect, sending his salt and pepper eyebrows on a roller coaster ride. “No it ain’t candy. I know you don’t like candy.” He shook his head. “Jeez.”

I squeezed it and a clear mist squirted out, It tickled my nose with a scent of sunshine and happy secrets that made my eyes water. “That’s wonderful.”

Louie nodded his round little head vigorously and pointed at his mouth. “So go ahead. Eat it.”

“Should I peel it first?”

“Peel it?” he said, in a way that suggested he was offended that I would even ask. “No way! Just eat the whole thing.”

I brought it closer to my lips and Louie’s eyes followed the whole motion. I could guess his thoughts—and they were as dirty as that little fruit was pure. He’d had a crush on me ever since I’d started buying from him—maybe before.

He was, I realized, pretty close to lemon shaped himself—squat and round. His skin was barely contained by his clothes, as if he was under pressure and trying to escape; a portly satyr tightly wrapped up in a threadbare business suit. Still, Louie wouldn’t have been the ugliest guy I ever spent time with.

There was an aura of strength around him as well. Louie could push, harder and harder, until he either got what he wanted, or something snapped under the pressure. It was kind of attractive in its own way. But my friends had warned me about Louie’s perversions. He needed things that made it sound like it wasn’t too pleasant to be his girl, so I stayed away. “Go ahead. It’s not going to hurt you.”

I studied the fruit again. “It seems sad to eat such a defenseless little thing.”

His smile dropped just a bit—a tightening of the lips, but I could see it. “It’s fruit, not a puppy. Just eat it.” There was a little bit more emphasis in his voice this time, “Go ahead.”

I inhaled again and the scent overwhelmed me. I had to know if it tasted as good as it smelled.

I dropped the little lemon onto my tongue, letting it roll across the inside of my mouth. It felt cool and firm, leaving a tart trail until I bit down. It disintegrated underneath my teeth with a single bite, collapsing into mouthful of pulp and juice. I closed my eyes, as if my brain needed to shut off my other senses simply so that I could focus on the flavor. It was sour and sweet all at once, and burned perfectly as it traveled down my throat.

When I opened my eyes I saw Louie leering at me, a wolf-grin on his face. “Ain’t you as pretty as picture?” said Louie, obviously enjoying seeing me in a state that had previously only existed in his dreams.

I swallowed a second time and it was all gone. “Delicious,” I said. “Like nothing I’ve ever tasted before.” My words came out in a breathy whisper, like one of those seductive, husky-voiced “dames” from nineteen forties movie. I swallowed again, trying to clear the sexy from my throat. “What are they called?”

Louie pulled a little bag out his pocket. The brown paper was soft and tattered, as if he’d been carrying it around for days. He reached in and pulled out another one, as perfect as the first. “Some guy from upstate grows ‘em. They ain’t got a real name, so I call ‘em Louie’s Little Lemons.” He lifted it and I leaned forward.

“I want another one…” I said, surprising myself with the sound of lust in my voice. That isn’t me, it’s the lemon talking. “I’ll take all you’ve got.”

I could only imagine how my customers might react once I put them out: NPR housewives suddenly overwhelmed in a citrus frenzy—grabbing them by the handful and shoveling them straight into their mouths. I’d definitely need to keep them behind the counter.

“These ain’t for sale by the bushel Margie. I’m just giving them away to my most-favorite customers.”

“Am I one of your favorites?” Was I flirting with him?

Louie, took a step towards me, bringing us inappropriately close. His face barely rose past my chest, and I saw his eyes flicker downward for an instant before they leapt back up to meet mine. “You, sweetheart?” He held up the lemon in-between us. “You’re my favoritest favorite.” The impish grin on his face grew wider and wider. He danced the fruit just a little bit from side to side, and my eyes followed the motion. “Don’t you want it?”

The memory of the first taste was fading away so quickly that all that remained was a longing for more. My fingers reached out for it until I looked at Louie one more time.

There was a clanging sound, like a broken bell, and for an instant I saw a devil standing behind the little man; the kind of creature that would try and seduce a middle-aged green-grocer with something as small as a perfect piece of miniature fruit. “I don’t know Louie…”

He didn’t say anything, and I let my hand hover there, trying to decide what really mattered most. What was I was willing to sacrifice to taste it again? Maybe, if I tried it a second time, I could hold onto that memory and never forget.