Page 11 of Wrong Number, Right Valentine

“Yum.” I sipped the rest of my hot drink, hoping I had a cocoa mustache and Reg would lick it off as he had in my imagination.

“You’re talking about the cocoa, right?”

I liked the direction his mind was headed.

“Maybe.” I fluttered my eyelashes, something I’d poo-pooed when watching actors do it on screen. But there was something about Reg that had me falling under his spell. And all those romantic clichés like roses and hearts were now endearing rather than unappealing.

“Would you like more yum?”

I leaped up, almost spilling the remnants of my drink on Reg. My hand shot up, and I yelled, not caring who heard or stared, “Me, me. Please!”

“Someone’s hungry.”

“Starving, famished, ravenous!” I tossed the empty cup in the trash and hooked my arm in his. “Where to?” There were twooptions, maybe three. His place or mine. Or if we wanted to splurge, we could get a hotel room.

“The restaurant seems the logical choice.”

Not what I was expecting. I furrowed my brow, thinking back to Valentine’s Day and the restaurant’s storage rooms. I hadn’t ventured into any. Perhaps Reg stayed there sometimes if he had to be there early the following day.

A horrified thought took hold of me. What if he didn’t have his own place? Buying the restaurant was a huge financial undertaking, and he might not be able to afford rent. Poor Reg. He’d given up everything for his passion which was the restaurant.

“Sure.” I was conflicted because I could suggest my place, but he might be offended, thinking that his room in the back of the restaurant wasn’t good enough for me. So, I went along with it, hoping he had a soft mattress.

Sizzle and Chill was so different compared to the other night. There was no one loitering outside, and all the pink had been removed. Instead, its windows were shadowed, and I imagined it sleeping, its arms wrapped around the building.

Glad I’d worn my tight briefs and Reg could eye them before he got naked, I tugged at my belt as light flooded the restaurant. Reg headed to the kitchen with me stumbling behind as I tried to undo my belt. I tripped and almost fell headfirst onto the kitchen floor.

“Oof!” My pants puddled at my ankles and Reg stared at me as my arms flailed. It wasn’t the most romantic of environments, nor the safest, but his room must’ve been nearby, and if I couldmake it there without going headfirst into the fryer, I’d consider it a win!

“Might be time for new pants.” Reg wielded a frying pan.

I’d used toys during sex previously, but the frying pan was a puzzle. What was he planning on doing with that?

“My belt,” I mumbled. I staggered to him, arms outstretched.

“What would you like? As long as it’s quick, I can do it.”

Hmmm, this sexy time sure wasn’t what I’d thought it would be. Reg wanted it to be over quickly so he could what? Watch TV? He was less of a romantic than I was and disappointment pooled in my belly.

“We can have the linguine again or something else.”

Pasta. He was talking about food, as in the yummy stuff you put in your mouth and swallowed as opposed to a cock and cum.

Damn. I’d fucked up. He didn’t want sex. He was hungry and thought I was too. I was, but I would have ignored my rumbly tummy for naked time.

“Ummm, anything.”

“My favorite is a very simple dish. Rice, green beans, and salmon with a yogurt herb sauce.”

My belly gurgled, telling me it was hungry, and just as well we were eating food and not cock.

“Sounds great. What can I do?”

Reg had me chopping herbs, slicing lemons, and gathering other ingredients for the dressing while he put on the rice.

“We’re going to be lazy and use one pot for the rice, salmon, and beans so there’s little washing up.”

Less time doing dishes meant more time for other activities, but I joked that I was disappointed I wouldn’t resume my role from the other night.

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