PoeticaL
cluttering the net since 2001

tiramisu

Thursday, Nov. 14, 2002
It wasn’t the normal place for this to occur. I was used to feeling skin against the smooth coolness of the sheets, but this would be the first time that I would feel the hard coldness of the kitchen tile pressing against my ass. It would be the first time I learned never to skip dessert.

He spoke with an accent. I straightened my skirt and sipped at the hot toddy he offered me before dinner. I admired his long lean legs as he chased his tasks around the kitchen. the first being a trip to the cabinets to get the dishes and then to the drawer of an old oak hutch to gather the linens for the table. I enjoyed his cologne wafting across the warmth of the cozy house. This was his house. I had received his invite via email. It was marked urgent and included a picture of a fancy dessert and a smiley face. I had quickly replied, “Yes.”

He chatted on about his mother in the hospital, his concern for her well-being furrowed itself into his brows briefly and then he resumed his task of covering the table with Nottingham lace. It was dressed beautifully. And then the china came next. I offered to help, standing up and walking towards him. He gently pushed me back to my cozy spot on the divan, saying “No…no you should sit and relax, you are my guest tonight.” It was hard to argue with him as the warmth in the room was so inviting, and being waited on by such a lovely man was exquisite.

The smells that were coming from the kitchen were making my mouth water. He was dressed in snug fitting trousers with a tailored cotton shirt on. He was neat and looked very distinguished setting each crystal water goblet onto the table. It was hard to resist reaching out and touching his chiseled face with my hand.

He walked to the kitchen and I could hear him banging pots and pans around briefly.

“Sorry about the ruckus out here, I’ll be right there.” He yelled out.

“It’s quite ok, I understand the work involved in making dinner.” I replied jovially.

“The lamb is looking absolutely amazing, I hope you’re hungry.” he carried on.

“If you only knew” I whispered back.

He came around the corner his stomach brushing just against the back of my head rustling my hair against my neck. A small shiver traveled down my spine at the sudden movement and touch.

“What was that?” he questioned me while grinning, placing his beer on the table. My eyes averted themselves away from his instead taking in the drops of water rolling slowly down the side of the bottle.

“Oh nothing, just thinking aloud I guess, it smells awesome in here.” I added.

“Yeah, I really love the way my house smells when I’m cooking a nice meal, would be nice if it didn’t come with such a time consuming affair as cooking does, but I enjoy it all. Are you comfortable? Can I get you anything?” he questioned with a smile in his eyes as he leaned forward to grab a hold of his beer once more.

“No, I’m fine, in fact I’m great, this is so nice.” I smiled back at him. “But just one thing, can I check out your CD collection?” I really wanted to get a look at it, I had overheard him often speaking of it.

“Oh, yes of course” he laughed. He led me across the room to a corner cabinet where he had his CD’s all lined up neatly. My finger trailed its way down the titles, Queens of the Stone Age, The Vines and various others were beaming back at me and then my finger landed on Grinspoon. This was a band I had never heard of.

“Oh look! I’ve never heard of any of their stuff, can you play your favorite track for me?” I questioned excitedly.

He replied, “Well…I think when you share a song with someone you lose a part of it, but…ok, since you’ve traveled so far to get here.”

I washed his long lean fingers push the CD into his stereo and the lights flashed on. He had a decidedly wonderful CD collection and his stereo system was quite amazing too.

While standing there he asked me if I’d like to dance, when I accepted he quickly hit a few buttons on the face of the stereo and a slow smooth jazzy type song filled the room, we both set our drinks down and took each other’s hands smiling.

Hands meeting for the first time, there was an electrical charge that traveled it’s way up through my arms. I leaned in close to him and rested my head against his chest. His skin smelled edible, the collar of his shirt laying open enough that his skin was against my face. Right when we found the melody and tone of the song a buzzer on the stove went off loudly.

“Shit! Oh shit..I’m sorry, what bad timing” He apologized and ran off into the kitchen to stop the incessant noise. I followed him. We settled into a seeming routine of bustled activity finishing the meal. Everything looked and smelled delicious.

“Will you be a dear and grab that ironstone tray from the hutch just inside the dining room for me?” he asked.

I hurried around the corner and with two hands grabbed the ironstone platter and brought it back into the kitchen. When I did he was standing with a bouquet of roses in the most amazing vase. “One last thing, could you put this on the side table, and then do remember to take them with you in the morning.” He winked at me.

My face flushed, “oh yes” I smiled. Pulling them up to my nose I inhaled deeply and the scent was amazing. This smell mixed with his cologne and the golden lamb was all too much for my senses. I placed the roses down and helped him set the table overflowing with food.

First came the salad, waldorf with fresh apples, and then a light cheese soup followed and finally the course of lamb and country rice with mushrooms. Intertwined with the wonderful food was the wonderful chatter of two people sharing their ideas amongst the roses and wine.

Each course slowly bringing their two souls closer, the wonderful textures of food on tongues and music sprinkling into ears, all added up to moments that would remain long after the meal.

Halfway through the meal, he slid his chair closer to me placing his hand on my hand causing more inflection in the tone of voices dancing in the air. The meal dwindled down and napkins were set aside on the table. Hazelnut coffee poured into large cups, as he lit a fire in the fireplace.

“Do you have any sugar?” She smiled.

“Yes, I’ll go and fetch that for you, one sec” he smiled back. He pushed his hand through his hair wanting to straighten it but only managing to cause a messy tousle that landed across his forehead.

She followed him wanting to stretch her legs after such a gorgeous meal. His back was towards her, he was rummaging in a cabinet close to the floor, she could see the outline of his back muscles against the taut cotton of his shirt. Biting her lip, she moved forward placing each hand on the kitchen counter tiles on either side of him she nestled her face against his back.

“Dinner was amazing, the roses beautiful, right now I feel like the luckiest girl in the world.” She said the words into his back. He turned slowly inside of her arms and took her face in his hands leaning slowly down his lips making their slow descend towards hers. She nervously licked her lips knowing he was going to kiss her. Instead his lips landed on her closed eyes, kissing each closed lid, his lips slowly making their way down her face with tiny kisses and then finally his warm lips found hers, and timidly lips open against lips and the heat of mouths pour forth into each other, their tongues painting unspoken words across tongues. Their kisses were hungry, passionate. Their hands chasing each others hands across the landscape of backs and arms and stomachs. Finding each other at times, fingers intertwining into each other. Lips on necks, lips on flesh, fingers dancing in the threads of the softness of hair falling everywhere.

Cotton pooling on the floor at four bare feet, arms and limbs and legs and things finding ways to stray all over everything. And then eyes meet eyes while lips sign names on skin and he pulls away and whispers through his breathless mouth, “we forgot dessert.”

He swiveled, his now bare chest glistening in the glow of the candles, he leans down and pulls a beautiful crystal plate out of his refrigerator, it is overflowing with heavenly layers of tiramisu, “for you” he says slyly. With his fingers he pulls a piece away and places it in her mouth. She licks her lips, then his fingers and again they kiss. "This time it is perfect, the taste..." he says between their kiss. Her fingers follow the motions of his and she feeds him his own sugary bite and then they share the sweetness between their mouths with laughter and smiles. The cotton pile grows deeper as they land slowly against the cool tiles. Startled she moans out, “Ohhh…that’s cold” as her flesh touches the contrast temperature of the tile. His hands quickly buffer the space between her flesh and the floor. “Is this better my love?” he counters through his sticky lips. They devour the tiramisu, abandoning the notion of plates or forks. It is now fingers and lips and flesh, sticky against fingers and lips and more flesh. The mess cleaned the efforts of their desire. Mouths full of tiramisu he enters her sticky body, eyes on eyes, lips sharing dessert with smiles.

Long after the night had passed and morning light was streaming into the messy kitchen, after the flame of the many candles had inched their way down, dripping wax along their travels, he stared down at her smiling. She leaned up off of the tile of the kitchen floor, her attempts at making a pillow with discarded cottons falling limp, she kissed him back, “thank you for dessert, it was so very sweet.”

the things I don’t do just to get a recipe…I was inspired by living wreck’s tiramisu....and largely encouraged to do so by… her!
6:46 p.m. ::
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