Page 50 of First Comes Orc, Second Comes Baby
“Are you sure you’re not twelve?”
Brahnt stopped and whispered in her ear, “If you have doubts, I can do my best to lay them to rest tonight.”
Now Charlotte wanted to abandon date night and go home. She felt her eyes glaze over and mentally slapped herself. She pulled away.
“We’re going to finish this date. We’re supposed to do something tonight besides play in bed, remember?”
Brahnt shoved his hands in the pockets of his slacks and sighed. “I don’t know why.”
Charlotte poked him in the shoulder. “You can at least try to pretend you’re having fun.”
“I would rather be fucking you, but fine.”
Conscious that her nausea could rear its ugly head without warning, Charlotte tamped down on her usual energy once they found a plush couch to settle on, which was part of a seating arrangement the party planner must have had brought into the venue.
They were soon joined by other couples, and servers came around with hors d’oeuvres and beverages, including nonalcoholic beverages.
Surprisingly, Brahnt turned on the charm, engaging other Orcs and Humans in conversation, including a couple who already had two young. The Orc males discussed pregnancy, postpartum and newborn tips as Charlotte cuddled against Brahnt's side, exchanged numbers with the Human, and nibbled on the blander selections of hors d’oeuvres while chatting.
After an hour or so, he murmured in Charlotte's ear, “Are you ready to leave? I had planned for us to have dinner elsewhere. A menu more suited to your current health challenges.”
Charlotte nodded, and they excused themselves to leave the mixer. The restaurant Brahnt escorted Charlotte to was a celebrity chef joint the Orc co-owned with his dad.
“I've arranged for Chef Samson to give us a private cooking class,” Brahnt said. “You've been trying to figure out what your interests are outside of dance and social media. We'll try cooking tonight and see if that inspires you. And I’ll orderchickeneggs for you to practice with.”
Charlotte squeezed Brahnt's hand, excited even though she knew she wouldn't be able to dive into the eating part of the date because of her nausea.
“It sounds like fun,” she said, and meant it.
“Plus,” Brahnt continued with a straight face, “a stay-at-home wife should at least know how to boil water. And not overcook expensive eggs.”
“Since when do you care what anything costs? Your shoelaces are an average fast food worker’s weekly salary.”
“It’s the principle. I don’t like waste.”
“My eggs weren’t that bad.”
“I thought you wanted open and honest communication in your relationship?”
Charlotte pinched him in the side, discreetly.
Proving Brahnt was both organized and thoughtful, the cooking class Chef Samson gave them featured a simple menu packed with stomach friendly nutrients for a pregnant Human. With an eye towards convenience and ease of prep, the chef matter-of-factly discussed substitutions for some of the items which would cut down on prep time.
“There's nothing wrong with using frozen or pre-prepped produce from your local grocery store,” the chef said. “We don't have to grow the food ourselves in soil we prayed over in order for it to taste good and be nutritious.”
The menu also included a selection of mocktails Charlotte could replicate at home. By the end of the two hours, Charlotte’s energy was pleasantly lagging but for once she felt full without the accompaniment of nausea. Sensitive to her dipping energy, Brahnt cut the evening short with a murmured thanks to the chef and ushered Charlotte outside.
In the limo, flowers and chocolate covered strawberries were waiting. Strawberries flaked with gold leaf. Charlotte suspected some self-interest involved in the selection of gifts because though Brahnt didn’t have a sweet tooth, he loved fresh fruit.
“We really do need to eat the rich,” Charlotte murmured, snuggling against Brahnt as she popped a gold leaf and chocolate strawberry into her mouth. “Though I won't lie. I could get used to this.”
Brahnt kissed the top of Charlotte’s head. “That is my nefarious scheme. When are you going to let me put a ring on it?”
Charlotte said nothing. Her stubborn, though non-hostile silence lasted until they got back to the penthouse.
“I wanted to have my way with you tonight,” Brahnt said, stripping off his tuxedo jacket. “But you're tired.”
“I mean, I could just lay there. You could lick my pussy. Neither of those activities require actual energy or movement on my part.”
