BZZT Your phone chatters against your desk as you rub your eyes. Eye strain is a real thing, especially when you've been working 12 hour days all week. You swipe it open to a text message from me. "Hey. I heard you had a long day. Why don't you swing by my apartment before you head home? I have something for you." "Uhhh, sure. But I'm starving. You have something I can eat at your place?" My response is a string of food emojis. You grab your keys and shrug on your jacket as your computer starts its shutdown routine.
"It's open!" I yell across the empty apartment in response to the doorbell. The unmistakable smell of sautéed garlic and onion washes over you. My front hallway is warm and bright. The rich, deep smell of a long-simmering tomato sauce beckons you into the kitchen. There I stand, still in my work shirt, sleeves rolled up to my elbows, and protected by a red and white striped apron. I look over my shoulder and a smile lights up my face as you enter. Even after a long, hard day you look beautiful. Sure, you'd probably have a few disparaging remarks about your appearance if anyone were to ask, but I'm not asking. Because I don't wonder how you think you look. I know you look stunning. "Hi! I didn't have a lot of time after work, so I just threw this tomato sauce together. I hope you like spaghetti?" A pot of boiling water bubbles away behind the slowly spitting pot of tomato sauce on the stove top. My fist, full of mozzarella, hovers over a bisected loaf of french bread garnished with chunks of butter and garlic. "And do you like cheese on your garlic bread? Speak now." I give you a playful wink as I slide the bread into the oven. "Dinner. I figured you were just going to order takeout and sit in front of your TV." I shut the oven door, and look at you across my kitchen. It hits me again. Goodness you are beautiful. I could look at you all day. And I don't just mean the way you look. I also mean beneath that. Your smile, the twinkle in your eyes, the way you hold yourself, the easy way you laugh. We're friends, sure. But I'd be lying if I said I never though of you in other ways as well. "Want to help with the salad?" I hand you a large chef's knife, a small cutting board, and a carrot. As I wash the lettuce, I glance over at you, going to town on that poor carrot. I pause. Consider my options. "Can I... can I show you something?" I start. I'm not trying to presume or piss you off. Some people don't want to be shown how to cut things; they assume "hacking" is good enough. You make the big thing into lots of smaller things, what more is there to it? "Sure." I move behind you, and wrap my arm around yours. "When you put your index finger along the top like that you can't control the pressure very well." My voice is close, right next to your ear. I take my right hand and adjust your grip on the knife. "Hold it like this - curl it and use your thumb to pinch it. See?" My breath is warm on the side of your face, and you can feel my deep voice vibrating against your back. "Now, you're likely to cut yourself if you hold the carrot like that - here, curl your fingers a bit to keep the tips out of the way." My other hand adjusts them, curling on top of them, my big hands a contrast against your long slender fingers. I catch a whiff of your hair. Soft against my cheek, it's just your shampoo, but. Hngh. My belly feels warm, and it's not just because your body is pressed against mine. No. No, I bring myself back under control. You are my friend, and I don't want to ruin that... "So, now you keep the tip of the knife on the cutting board and rock it back and forth. Like this." Holding your hands in mine, I show you how to exert the pressure down and away with every stroke as we feed the carrot under the knife together. "See? Easy." I pause. I know I should step away now. The knife lesson is over. But you feel so good, pressed against me like this. In my arms. Imperceptibly, you relax against me, lean your body back against mine, and cock your head to the side to look up at me.
Kinks: Surprise me. It starts out vanilla, but dessert is Tiramisu, and cold, rum-infused cream can lead to some interesting applications...
My profile, if you're into that sort of thing...
Submitted March 08, 2017 at 03:33PM by NickCarrawayXXX http://ift.tt/2lZItqQ
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