The Devil Drinks Merlot

Transported from France by a group of delectable acolytes, the cherished cases of vino now rest in his ambient temperature cavern.

With the meal planned and the guests invited, his demons had the day to prepare two banquets to his exacting specifications. The first for his favourite (and richest) thirteen patrons. The second, after hours, for two. Fit for the King of Underworld and his prized companion.

The Devil, aka Dev, mulled long and with great care over who would most appreciate his company and hospitality. And also see the occasion as a powerful meeting of successful minds.

Then he considered the mortal and morsels his palate would most appreciate. So much effort spent to find his perfect date. The star of the show, the merlot coveted by his latest squeeze.

A devil of a woman. The most splendid he’d seen in all his lifetimes so far. Ruby Deep, the bewitching woman who met and exceeded his appetites.

They had the same proclivities for torture and vice. A match made in the hottest regions of his Underworld. She wove spells around pinnacles of commerce, playboy princes, and prima donnas. Her sales techniques exceeded his wildest expectations.

Her form of torture exquisite and desired by many who succumbed to her powers. Their vices, Epicurean. Savourers of delectable foodie masterpieces of which mere mortals could only dream.

Her negotiating skills won her friends, and the lowest prices conceivable for anything from condiments to Petrus. One of the world’s most expensive wines.

He’d noticed her presence over the aeons. Gathered intelligence on her through reliable spies. Her talents for eternal torment, exceptional. She held the record for most lucrative plunder. Including the sublime merlot sourced from the most prized vineyard and of a superior vintage.

The richest of rich members roll into Underworld from midnight onwards. Handsome demon hosts serve Petrus, 100% merlot, in the finest Austrian crystal goblets and offer hors d’oeuvres on the finest silver platters.

For the more discerning patrons, fresh young flesh of all colours adorn the buffet tables. Their bodies decorated with luxury meat platters and desserts from 5 Michelin star restaurants.

The devil, Dev, a master party planner and host extraordinaire. Valued and sought after by billionaires and a smattering of the higher echelons of multi-millionaires seeking entertainment with a twist.

The guests had no clue what to expect. They frequented his club because he catered to their hedonistic tendencies. Dev got his nickname for excellent service and entertainment. The best in las Vegas.

From the opening of the club’s doors to the ushering out of members who could still walk, and every minuscule detail in between, Dev devised every single aspect.

Optimum revelry expected and delivered.

Guests go home 200% satisfied, or he flogs them into submitting signed feedback forms he thoughtfully had completed by minions in advance.

Members’ identities fiercely protected from paparazzi by shimmering arches from his door to their limousines.

The merlot

A great believer in premium quality, Dev buys Petrus. Its characteristics, some say, spice, chocolate, and black fruit. Grown in Bordeaux; St Emilion and Pomerol. Their vines, the oldest, the grapes hand-picked after the rising sun has freed the luscious vine fruit of any morning dew. The scarcity of the vines contributes to their outrageous value to connoisseurs and collectors alike.

Breakfast a deux

Dev and Ruby meet for a date after the club closed at their fave luxury breakfast cafe, also owned by Dev and staffed with his demons.

Two demons lift the chairs from under the table for two and place them, ready for the guests to seat themselves. Ruby’s demon assists her in getting closer to the table. Dev does fine by himself. Proud of his core strength and thighs of steel. He admires his date’s slinky deep ruby red dress with a plunging neckline.

Ruby maintains eye contact with Dev throughout the seating ceremony. Neither party favours chit chat. Thoughts of the Petrus, the star and premium beef have them salivating.

At Dev’s request, his date preordered her Carl’s Jr $6000 burger to give the Palm Spring’s Las Vegas chef time to drive over to Devilled Eggs where she would then cook the world’s most expensive burger for Ruby.

One demon opens the 1990 bottle of Petrus Merlot at the table and invites the guests to taste it. They do, and then both nod to the demon. He tops up their wine glasses. A hint of bees wax wafts from the table, laid in advance with steak knives, forks, and damask linen napkins.

Dev and Ruby, comfortable in the silence, study each other. They’ve known each other for most of their lifetimes. They smile at each other.

Their food arrives. The aroma tantalising their Petrus stimulated palates. They plunge their knives into their succulent beef.

Dev’s blue Wagyu oozes onto the plate and drips on the way to his lips. Ruby is too busy with her bunless burger, a tad more seared but also oozing. She ensures she gets blue cheese, lettuce, tomatoes, grilled onions and pickles onto her fork too, to notice or care about dripping blood.

A duet of groans bubble from deep in their throats. After their first mouthfuls, they raise their crystal wine glasses to savour the £3000 bottle of wine.

First, they swirl the contents, introducing air to the twenty-one-year-old wine. Next, they inhale the heady notes of intense blackberry preserve, their nostrils seduced by dark cherries, and a robust bouquet of exotic toasted coconut.

They sip and slurp the almost purple liquid through their teeth to further aerate it. Holding the nectar in their mouth afterwards. Still maintaining eye contact, they swallow at the same moment.

Dev and Ruby come together over the emperor of merlot. She is not all she seems. Angels hide their true natures very well. What they can’t hide is their wings when stimulated by orgasmic beef and liquids.

Horns visible, Dev leaps up and launches himself across the table at her. No thought for the accoutrements which plummet to the Pietra Firma Luxtouch flooring. Ruby’s chair crashes backwards. Her snowy wings free themselves and embrace Dev. His lips find hers. The attendant demons back away from the scene unnoticed.

A match made on earth, in a cafe called The Devil is in the Details.