Disclaimer: You know who owns you know what. Sorry for playing in their sandbox...well not really.This is from a prose I wrote several years ago that seemed to be made for Methos to write to his Highlander. Hope you enjoy!
====================================================A pinch of this, a dash of that. Wipe the sweat off my face with a damp dishcloth. This meal must be the most delicious, the most succulent, the most tantalizing I have ever prepared. The most tempting. You know, I actually like this cooking thing. Never really considered myself terribly domestic. No, I've always thought my forte was more in the realm of the senses. But, then I never truly understood how sensuous food could be? The texture of a soft, downy peach. The sticky web of honey on his fingers as I lick it off, the mouth watering aroma of a hot, bubbling stew. And the preparation - that's what servants were for, right? Don't care how you do it, just bring in the banquet for me and my lover. But now I let my mind drift as my body falls into a rhythm of chopping and slicing and dicing and searing…braising and blanching. Feet move mindlessly from sink to counter to stove. I am hypnotized by the rising steam and I see his face in it before me - the object of my seduction.
I will teach him the secret of edible delights. The power of the satisfied palette. I stand over the hissing cauldron and briny trickles leave trails down my neck, across my shoulders, and under my arms. They caress my body like his fingers...his finger in my mouth, I imagine it as I taste the sauce. Is it too flat - perhaps a bit more of this herb or that spice. Ah, that's better. A smooth, harmonious blending of ingredients, the way my legs entwine with his, so that I cannot tell where one ends and the other begins. Hm, I think my meal is almost done. I pour us a goblet of wine to share. Let its coolness refresh us after the long journey to this moment. Welcome to my kitchen Highlander.
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