A Dish Best Served Sweet

“Don’t you look lovely Cecilia,” Martin’s voice was warm, gentle. It was the kind of voice that washes over you like a hot summer’s breeze setting your nerves ablaze like tiny embers stroked into a rush of burning flame.

I trembled under his stare.

His eyes, so blue that if you stared just long enough you’d stop breathing, convinced you that you were lost at sea. I looked away in part because I'm shy but mostly because I'd forgotten to breathe.

I stepped forward through the grand entrance of his high rise apartment.

Martin lived close to the top floor, where all the rich and important men lived, and Martin was just as rich and important as the rest of them. But also undoubtedly the most handsome, the most suave.

His hands slid up my arms and cupped my shoulders. Goose pimples erupted over my skin. I wasn’t aware he was behind me. “Here love, let me take your coat.” His voice was close to my ear now.

I shrugged out of the closeness of his near embrace. My heart thudded in my chest like a skittish baby deer. I stumbled forward in my stilettos just like one too. “Th-that's okay i’m still pretty chilled from the night breeze.” I was such a liar and my voice was too high. The truth was I was burning. I was burning from being so close to him, trapped in this tiny entryway, and I was burning from the fire roaring heartily in the fireplace in the living area a few feet away.

Martin stared at me in that discerning way of his. His eyes twinkled like they did when he knew I was lying. Like I was something that fascinated him and amused him all at the same time.

“Very well,” he said, stepping away. I breathed a sigh of relief. “I’ve prepared dinner.”

He reached for my free hand but at the last moment I reached up and tucked my hair behind my ear. I smiled nervously and his eyes softened as he forgave my slight. I knew what he was thinking. ‘Sweet shy Cecilia.’ He called me that sometimes. Especially when he was leaning over my desk, his hand on my chin.

The grip on my bag tightened as I followed behind him past the cozy fireplace and into his dining room. Other than the crackling of the fire my stilettos were the only sound in the apartment. The clicks seemed to echo and I wondered just how big an apartment could actually be.

“After you my lady,” Martin gestured me forward. I knew why he wanted me to walk in first and it was the opposite of him being gentlemanly.

I had to admit that the scene before me was impressive. The walls were rich mahogany bordered in cream and thick red drapes the color of wine enclosed what appeared to be large bay windows.

My heels were silent now, sinking into the plush black area rug under my feet, as I stepped closer to the large ebony table placed underneath the chandelier in the middle of the room. Crystal glasses lit up with tiny rainbows under the light of two candles and the feast laid out before my eyes made my mouth water. I pulled back catching myself. I was always catching myself around him.

The tiny fly caught in the spider's web.

Even now he played with his meal before devouring it. But I was here for a reason.

“Your home is lovely.” The words came out stiff but my voice was strong, stronger than I felt.

The smile he gave me in return was unabashed. Martin always smiled in a way that showed a lot of teeth. It also highlighted the dimples in his cheeks. It made most women swoon, both his confidence and his dimples..and perhaps a great many things more.

I never let myself think of those things of course.

Martin sauntered over to me all predator and I the prey. His dark hair seemed even darker in the scant light, I could barely make out the hint of his muscular form beneath the dark suit he was wearing, but I knew from experience that it was there.

He came closer to me and dread wrapped cold dead fingers around my stomach and twisted it into knots. I held my head high even as my knees knocked together under my skirt. I hoped his eyes were too firmly fixed on the three buttons left undone on my blouse to notice me trembling like a leaf.

He passed behind me, much too close, his body pressing against the back of mine as he slid around me. His hands dropped to my waist. “Excuse me, gorgeous,” he said, his voice all silk and cashmere, “a gentleman always pulls out a ladies chair.” His breath was minty as it caressed my cheek.

I forced the sides of my lips up into a believable smile. It stuck halfway there and I probably looked like a stroke victim. Martin either didn’t notice or didn’t care.

I took a seat as he gestured me forward and stifled a gasp as the chair was suddenly pushed in towards the table. For a moment my heart thundered in my chest as I realized my predicament, caught between the table and his imposing figure. I was a mouse and he was a cat toying with his catch.

He leaned over my shoulder, unnecessarily close—again, and grasped a bottle of deep red wine off the table.“1996 my personal collection.” He was beaming, pride colored his voice like it did most obscenely wealthy men when they bragged, covertly. The slosh of red liquid filled the crystal glass, first splashing up the sides before falling to the bottom. It mirrored the tumultuous wave of nerves splashing around in my stomach.

Martin stepped back and corked the bottle. “Tell me if you’ve ever tasted anything better.” The charismatic bastard somehow came across as smug without at all being obnoxious.

I raised the glass politely and took a sip. I fought to keep the reaction off my face. Martin laughed as he took in my raised eyebrows and slightly widened eyes. “I told you it was good.”

He walked back around the table then to both my relief and delight and took a seat across from me. Our gazes locked and clashed over the roasted pig between us. I was the first of us to look away. Breathing shakily I turned and gulped down my wine trying to avoid his amused stare.

“Please don’t be shy, the chef spent quite a bit of time preparing all of this.” He said after a moment. He nodded his head to the spread in front of us. My eyes dropped to the dead pig seated on a bed of lettuce before me. It gazed back.

Martin wasted no time in helping himself and though I had prepared not to, the smell of exotic spice wafting up from the dishes placed around the table were too much to resist.

We were almost done with our meal. I finished swallowing the last of the multiple delights that I’d sampled over the course of the evening, and finally cleared my throat. I had come for a reason. I dabbed at my lips with a satin napkin.

“I was hoping to discuss the recent acquisitions. I was under the impression that was why I was invited here. For business.” Silently I begged him to agree, to treat me like any of the men in the office. Even though I doubted any of the men at the office would be treated to an intimate dinner in the boss’s home. Or rubbed against like a desperate man trying to coax a genie out of a magic lamp.

“Oh Cecilia sweet Cecilia,” he grinned at me and then reached forward over the table to touch my hand. “We have all the time in the world to talk...business.” He was walking his fingers up my arm as he spoke, leaving a line of fire behind like he drizzled a trail of gasoline from his fingertips and then struck a match.

I jerked my hand back. My heart was ricocheting around in my chest again, almost painfully this time. Suddenly aware of my position, alone with him, I chuckled nervously and tucked my hair behind my ear again. I bit my lip. “Well maybe we can have dessert.” I suggested reaching down by my feet and grasping the bag I had carried in.

He placed both elbows on the table and interlaced his fingers and there he rested his chin as his eyes drunk me in. He looked indulgent. Humoring me like a child. He was often looking at me in the office that way as well, when he wasn’t finding ways to bump into me or rub my shoulder or touch my waist.

His eyes widened as I pulled the glistening chocolate cake out of the bag. “I didn’t know you were a baker.” He said approvingly.

I wasn’t. And I didn’t need his approval.

I ducked my head shyly and shrugged. “I dabble in it sometimes.” Liar.

“Well then let me cut it and I'll give you my honest opinion.” He reached forward and took the container from me. Fingers sliding against fingers, rubbing.

The chair was cold against my back as I tucked my hands in my lap. I felt dirty from that one touch.

He reached forward, grasped a knife off the table and cut a tiny sliver. That he handed to me on a small white plate. “A dainty piece for a dainty woman.” He said with a wink. My skin crawled.

He made another slice into the cake and then widened the gap and made another slice. The piece he held up was easily 4 times the size of mine. “A man doesn’t have your..delicate appetite.” He explained though I didn’t recall asking and my fist clenched in my lap.

The first bite exploded over my tongue with a burst of chocolate, a hint of cinnamon, and--

“What’s in this?” He asked suddenly. He was on his third bite, eyes half lidded in pleasure. “It’s wonderful.”

“Cocoa powder.”

He nodded imploringly at me to continue as he brought another bite up to his lips, this time his eyes sliding close with a moan.

“Cinnamon.”

Another bite.

“Vanilla.”

And yet another.

“Cayenne pepper.”

His eyes were widening now. He reached up to grasp his tie, his fingers fumbling as he pulled it loose from his neck.

“I don’t think that's it, it's subtle. Something I've never tasted before.”

His voice was raspy as if he was the one unable to catch his breath this time.

He reached forward to take a sip of his wine but his hand trembled and the glass slid from his fingers just as he slid down further into his seat.

His face was turning as red as the curtains on the walls.

He leaned forward and grasped the table.

His fingers were shockingly pale against the dark wood.

“I-I don’t...did you put peanuts?”

I’m sure he meant to be yelling but his voice was low to my ears barely audible.

His eyes stared into mine in disbelief.

I knew what he was thinking.

‘Sweet Shy Cecilia?’

His nails clawed at his throat.

He let out a pained grunt, his air finally running out, as he slid to the floor with a thump that echoed in the silent room.

I frowned thoughtfully. “You know now that you mention it. I think I did add some peanuts.” I shrugged and took another sip of my wine. “You were right, this is really good stuff. Goes perfect with the cake.”

I took another bite and closed my eyes in bliss as the chocolate coated my taste buds.

I really did have a killer sweet tooth.