Foreplay.

Even with the kitchen window open on this particular gloomy, fall day, the kitchen was still too warm.  It was around 2:30 on this day and everything was starting to come together for the dinner party.  Things were boiling, baking, being stirred, seasoned and fried.  The smell of a good, hearty meal filled the halls of this couple’s lives.  But there was another scent that filled the air, one doesn’t notice.  Everyone knows what it smells like, but it varies from person to person.

The scent danced around the home, entangling itself with the smell coming from the kitchen.  It danced with the sauces, the greens, the fish, the chicken, the cornbread, and cuddled itself snug to the food itself, enhancing the flavor a later time.

Music played from a little speaker on top of the microwave, loud enough to cover the sound of the front door being opened.  The person returning home took a big whiff of the food and slowly made their way to the kitchen.

As they peeked into the haven of warmth and decadence, they noticed their partner in a twirl.  Moving gracefully through the kitchen, swaying to the music while holding a tray full of uncooked food.  They watched their partner praise the heavens and shun the devil as the stirred the fifty-eleven pots on the stove.  They watched their partner sing the songs of veteran sirens who have had swindled many a man out of their lives with their voice.  They watched—

The embarrassment show up on their face.

“You weren’t supposed to be home for another hour…”

“I managed to get off early…”

The early bird made their way to their cooking lover and kissed their forehead, their cheeks, their nose, ignoring the sweat of hard labor and love.  (The scent managed to make its way there, too.)

The shy singer giggled and slowly pushed away from their beau.

“I need to put these in the fridge…”

“Okay…”

As the singer made their way to the fridge, the bird reached a hand out to their lover’s waist, holding on tight, moving into their back and burying their face into the other’s neck as the fridge closed.

“Honey, I have still… have so much… t… Mmm..”

“Mmhmm…”

The singer groaned, guiding the hands of the bird to the buttons of their shirt.  The bird nipped and bit at the neck and ears of their, fingers quickly undoing the buttons like the singer had asked.  The bird pulled the shirt off the singer and started biting and licking at their shoulder, enjoying the salty taste of their love.

There was a grunt, the fridge shifted.

The singer was suddenly had their back to the fridge, the bird pressing up against them in a kiss that would make Zeus blush.

Someone whined, tugging on the belt the bird had on.

“Please, oh, please…” the singer breathed into the mouth of the bird, whose evil grin spread like wildfire in the summer at the consent.  The bird fumbled with their belt, with their love’s pajama shorts.  Their kiss continued, the singer rubbing their hands onto the bird’s head, eyes shut tight, breathing quick and erratic.    The bird matched the neediness of the singer with eagerness.

The alarm on the singer’s phone rang loudly, making the bird jump back, pants around their knees.  The singer was frozen with shock, standing on their toes one leg, the other leg dangling in the air.

The alarm kept going off for another ten seconds before the singer rushed to their phone and shut it off.

They looked at each other and started laughing.

The singer cleared their throat before having their chin pulled over ever so gently for a kiss.

“I’ll get the table set… I’ll see you after dinner…” the bird whispered onto the singer’s lips before giving their hand a squeeze and disappearing.

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s