Page 21 of Menotte avec toi

“I believe you dropped one on the back of that chair,” she said, when I still didn’t spot one after several moments of standing there.

“Thanks,” I replied, retrieving it and carefully covering the painting.

Fortunately, I’d dumped them all in the same place, in and on the chair, and was quickly able to recover the paintings.

“If you’d like to make yourself comfortable on the couch, I’m going to find something that will serve as an ice bucket and startbringing everything out,” I said, gesturing towards the curved purple sofa I’d fallen in love with the moment I’d laid eyes on it.

The two-seater offered an intimate setting for the meal I had planned, while its curves kept us from having to turn to see one another. The bend of it always made me feel like it was hugging me when I stretched out on it, while its wide cushions left enough room for two people to snuggle in its embrace.

In no time at all, I’d repurposed a reusable popcorn tub from the theater and filled it with ice and the wine, open and breathing. I remembered the lighter I kept in the kitchen drawer so I could light the trio of candles on the coffee table. Soon they were flickering, letting off the scent of the ocean I loved so much. Returning to the kitchen, I loaded the bamboo tray I’d set out on the counter with the pan-fried crab dumplings I’d made with a homemade dipping sauce that was loaded with flavor and a hint of spice. Shrimp with mango cocktail sauce rested in the center of the tray, bracketed in by plates containing three different sushi rolls and a small one holding chilled mango slices drizzled with coconut milk. It wasn’t dessert. I had that tucked away for later. This was more of a fun palate cleanser and to see if she shared my love of mangos. While two sets of silver chopsticks rested on the tray, I’d tucked a fork just under the edge of one of the plates in case she needed it. I remembered wine glasses too and carefully carried everything to the coffee table. When her eyes went wide again, I could tell this was the last thing she’d expected.

“I brought a fork if you aren’t comfortable with chopsticks,” I said as I positioned the tray and filled our wine glasses.

“I am rather proficient with chopsticks,” she replied, smiling over at me as I used the remote on the coffee table to dial down the overhead light and turn the flatscreen on. “But thank you for your consideration. This looks delightful.”

“I thought it would be fun to feed one another,” I explained as I plucked up the chopsticks, captured a dumpling, dunked it and held a small saucer beneath it to catch any droplets as I brought it to her lips.

Watching her eyelids flutter as I fed her the first bite was as confidence-building as themmmshe let out after she’d tasted it. Pampering my Mistress was going to be so much fun. I had no idea if this was the way it was done or if I was doing everything bass-ackwards. I was just going on instinct, and my instincts screamed to show her how much I was already coming to cherish her.

“The flavors are wonderfully blended,” she said. “Where did you learn to make all of this?”

Giggling, I just grinned as she picked up a shrimp by the tail, dunked it in the sauce, and held it out to me.

“YouTube,” I said before opening my mouth to take the shrimp from her.

Her laughter was praise to my ears. I’d deliberately removed the whole shell, even if not technically proper. It made it so much easier to lightly suck her fingers as I accepted the shrimp. As I’d hoped, the flavors of the sauce were truly bursting after several hours in the fridge. I’d cued up a movie I hoped she’d like. My tastes tended to run towards musicals and visually stunning movies with a great deal of ambiance. For that reason alone, I’d chosen the original Broadway musical version of Cats for us to watch. While I enjoyed the remake, there was just something about the original that always called to me. Tonight was about seeing the way our tastes lined up, including the chocolate fondue pot and array of fruit and cubed pound cake I’d tucked away for later. As we continued to feed one another while the opening credits appeared, all I could think about was her and how pleased I was that our second date together was already off to a wonderful start.

Chapter Nine

Harper

Sonnet couldn’t have nailed those paintings any better than if she’d been inside my head. And at this point, I wouldn’t be surprised to find she had been. They were everything I’d wanted and more. So much more.

Her shy, timid reaction as she unveiled the canvases spoke volumes. Someone from her past filled that beautifully brilliant mind of hers with bullshit. Mentally beaten down, yet she still overcame and found her voice. I can’t imagine the internal struggle she battled, and I had the overwhelming urge to smack the shit out of whoever did this to her. How had they missed how utterly perfect she was?

Well, their loss was my win.

“Sonnet, you’ve absolutely blown me away with the paintings. I don’t know if you remember, but we offered the artist we contracted with space in the lobby to sell their works. We’vecleared the main wall already in preparation.” Her eyes lit up, and I knew that brain of hers was working overtime.

“Are you sure? I mean, I remember reading it, but I don’t feel the consignment percentage was fair.”

Interesting. “How so?” Was twenty-five too much for the club to take?

“Usually the house gets more.”

“This isn’t a game of blackjack, sweetheart. This is your career, and with us dating, I wish to reduce it to ten percent. I’d prefer you payMenotténothing, but Patrice will be handling the transactions for both parties and should be properly compensated for her time.”

“You’re too kind, and I don’t want our relationship to overshadow business for either of us. I more than agree Patrice should be paid.”

“Then it’s done. I’ll ask the lawyer to amend it to ten percent payable directly to Patrice. Now, about those photos for my special painting.” Goddess, I’d wanted to undress her the moment I laid eyes on her in the hallway. It’d take some time to retrain this old brain from undress, take care of their needs, then move on to the next client. Sonnet was mine, all for me and not a job. Dating was a foreign concept but one I’d learn to grasp, and this date had gone well, and now it was time for dessert and to show my girl how special she was.

“Let me help you clean up.” Together we had the leftovers stored and dishes in the dishwasher in a matter of minutes. All but save for one. I dipped a remaining piece of sponge cake into the fondue pot and gently ran it across her lips, my tongue quick to remove the remnants. The sundress she wore, a pattern of sunflowers and sun rays, while adorable, had to go. I hooked a finger under a slender strap. “May I?” An adorable nod as she nibbled her bottom lip was consent enough.

I pressed my lips to the light coating of freckles across her shoulders, and the material slipped free of them. I wondered how long it would take me to lick each and every one of them across her naked flesh.

Sonnet was my Achilles heel. I could never get enough of her. Every waking moment I thought of this ginger beauty. Touching her, tasting her. Listening to her moans while I made her come. Knowing I did that, brought those sensual moments, and set her free was an aphrodisiac to my ears and libido. Her climaxes only served to enhance mine.

Or maybe there was something more at work here.

---