Mills & Booze

Mills & Booze

Hapi Sessions vol. 7 – Just Cause You Feel It

California Dry Double IPA

Garage Project x Green Cheek

“No” she said simply. “It doesn’t bother me the slightest bit.” She perched, tantalisingly, on the table in the dining room, the very figure of desire. She was a full-bodied, bright-golden blonde, ebullient with an effervescent and intoxicating personality. She was a joyful, sunny product of her parents’ union, a Kiwi and a Californian, who had given form to her one heady day during the lockdown when there was nothing else to do to occupy the mind but to try and create something new and beautiful in each other. They had given her the best of both of their worlds – a harmonious blending of the two countries into one desirable package – the sticky allure of a 9% WCIPA with the excitement of the Southern Hemisphere’s most titillating new world hops.

                The hot sun bore down on the room, and her curves glistened in the spring afternoon sunlight. Beads of condensation ran down the tulip lines of her nubilous body as she gently perspired in the playful November sun. It only made him want her all the more. She tossed her head gently, the platinum curls releasing a cold scent of something juicy. “I don’t mind showing you how assertive I can be at all.”

                They had both known she would be taking the dominant role today. She was big, bold and brassy, and she put everything on the table upfront. As she hovered underneath his nose, he savoured her scent before she planted herself on his lips. She entered him with a sigh. It was like being submerged by a wave – welcome but powerful, almost a little too intense. She had a strong, resinous characteristic like she’d just smoked a little one-hitter, but the sheer excitement of that kiss was electric.

                They broke, and he let out a little satisfied sigh. They knew she was not here for a long session, nor just a quick smash. She was intense and heady, he thought – something to be savoured, but not something you could handle more than once a while. She would destroy you if you tried to hold onto her all night long; powerful 9 percenter that she was. But she was exciting, and her particular musk called to his senses. It was not just her ABV but the complexity of her that made him so giddy; though she had that zesty orange upfront – a legacy no doubt from her Orange County parentage – she had a mysterious savoury note to her, blended into musk sticks and marshmallows before the two of them dissolved together into a pool of glorious lupulin bitterness.

                Her perfume lingered on his lips, something exotic – guava? Feijoa? Starfruit? He couldn’t tell, but no matter. She left his mouth… not dry, exactly, her hop oiled body was too luscious for that, but she held back something, something that her even more unctuously hoppy sisters might have left behind. He felt that dryness in his mouth, smacked his lips, and found himself already waiting for her to plant herself on him again. He knew he’d pay for this hedonism tomorrow morning, but the hell with consequences. Let tonight be tonight, he told himself – just cause you feel it.

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