“Creepy Prince Edward Island place?” He chuckles.
“Yeah, well, I guess it’s not really creepy to most people, but my best friend Emmy went to check out some abandoned and supposedly haunted spots there while she and Dean were visiting for their show. She told me some stories that were creeeeeeeepy,” I singsong. “Anyway, the Acadians got kicked out because the British thought they were fighting for the wrong team, and they ended up settling down southwest of here along the Gulf of Mexico. The accent is Louisiana French and a crapload of dialects of North American English.” I shrug. “Here in New Orleans though, we have a huge mix of accents, since we’re in the middle of a bunch of different parishes—or counties, as the other states call them. But what’s interesting, at least to me, is the majority of the people from here sound almost like a perfect mix of Southern and working-class New Yorkers.”
He seems to think about it for a second, and then smiles. “Now that you mention it, that is exactly what they sound like. Hm!” He stops in the middle of the aisle, looking back at me. “Lafayette really nailed the accent on True Blood, huh?”
I pout my lip. “Rest in peace, Nelsan Ellis. He was seriously my favorite character.”
“Right? That actually made me really sad when I heard he passed away. Like, most of the time you hear about a celebrity dying, and it’s like, aw, that sucks, and you kinda just go about the rest of your day. His made me genuinely sad that we wouldn’t see him around anymore,” he tells me.
I’m nodding my agreement before he’s even done speaking. “Same.”
We just stand there staring at each other for long moments, basking in the fact that we totally get each other in this conversation, and it’s not until someone who I assume is the director yells “Cut!” that we snap out of it and turn to look at him.
“Y’all went off on a bit of a dark path there for a lighthearted cooking show. Can we get back to the happier shit please, Casanova?” he aims at Curtis, and I bite my lip to keep from giggling.
Curtis rubs the back of his neck before nodding. “Yeah, sorry. That was kinda weird, huh?”
The director just shakes his head and points at him. “Action.”
“Okay, so let me show you everything I’ve collected so far,” Curtis says, coming to stand next to the cart. “In the spice aisle, I grabbed bay leaves, garlic, cayenne pepper, black pepper, thyme, and salt. And down a ways on the same aisle, I got some vegetable oil and chicken broth.” He holds up each item for the cameraman to zoom in on. “I also got a bag of red beans and a bag of white rice. Now we just need to hit the produce section and the meat department.”
As we start up the aisle, I murmur for only Curtis to hear, “Hm… I thought we were already in the meat department.” And when he turns wide eyes to me, I smirk, glance down at his ass then back up, and wiggle my eyebrows, and he throws his head back and laughs. As many innuendos as he usually throws out on the show, I’ve never once seen anyone do anything but get red-faced and flustered around the man. I’m happy to be the one who finally dishes them out to him—pun intended.
When we’re standing in front of the pork section, he gestures toward some gnarly looking hunks of meat wrapped in clear plastic. At my sneer, he smiles. “This is a ham hock.”
“Looks like a prop out of one of the Saw movies,” I comment, and he bites back another laugh.
“This is what gives the otherwise bland red beans and rice that delicious smoky and hearty flavor. Those little bits of meat you get in every bite comes from the pork literally falling off the bone while it cooks,” he explains.
“Hm,” I chirp with interest. “Learning has occurred.”
He takes a few steps down and gestures at the many different varieties of sausage, and at my evil grin, he clears his throat and bites his lip, visibly collecting himself before stating, “There are literally hundreds of different sausages to choose from, but only one is just right for this dish.” He sends a heated look directly to my pussy, and I swear to God my leggings nearly melt down my thighs.
Touché, motherfucker.
Curtis
I have a hard-on in the sausage section of a health food grocery store like some kind of twelve-year-old pervert, and there’s absolutely nothing I can do about it. Any attempt at readjusting would not only be seen by the impish beauty in front of me, but it would also be caught on camera and live on, archived for my humiliation for years to come.