She takes a fourth pan and puts more yellow stuff into it. All four stove burners are bright orange and now there are sweet and savory smells in the air. It makes me happy. I find myself purring softly as I watch her.
She cracks eggs into another bowl and stirs the contents and then drops the egg liquid into the fourth pan while flipping meat with a fork in one pan and then stirring the fruit pan and flipping a piece of bread over, then another.
My woman has kitchen skills. This makes me happy.
I look back to the fire and stoke it as I watch her alternately dance between the four burners and the soapy sink. She’s washing things and putting other things away in between tending the food.
She wipes her hands on a towel and looks at me.
“Can you wash the table and set it instead of just sitting there looking pretty?”
I tilt my head to the side as she says, “Here.” She holds out a soaped-up sponge.
I move to the simple table that was always here and begin to scrub it. The yellow sponge’s surface quickly blackens. She catches me staring at it and brings me a new soaped-up sponge, taking that one away.
A moment later, she’s marched to the bedroom and before I’ve blinked twice, she’s approaching the table with a sheet. She dries the surface with a towel and then passes the wet sponge and towel to me.
“Put those down over there, please? Food will be cold if we wait until that table is clean. Let’s just eat. You can finish de-grossifying it later.” She flips the sheet so that it unfolds and spreads it across the table, covering the rest of the dirt.
“Sit,” she tells me as she drops off two forks and two knives and then twirls to go back to the counter. I watch the light catch her hair and purr some more. She returns with two plates.
“We didn’t get anything to drink. I don’t want milk. Is the water from the tap any good?”
“Any… good?” I ask.
“Has the water been tested for safety?” she asks.
“It’s… water,” I answer.
She shakes her head. “Never mind. I’ll boil some just in case.” She gets up and lifts a pot from the counter where it sits drying with other dishes she’s washed and fills it before putting it on the stove. “I saw teabags here. And there’s no coffee machine, so we’ll have tea.”
My eyes follow my nose and I look at my plate.
There’s crispy strips of meat on one end, a pile of yellow fluffy substance, and two slices of bread covered in a brown sauce filled with colorful chunks.
I taste some. There’s banana and something that looks a bit like a seedling, but it’s white and familiar-scented, and there are berries like the ones I’ve eaten from the ground shrubbery as wolf sometimes. The sauce is sweet. The brown sand and fruit together sauce is the best food taste that has ever touched my tongue. I look up at her in astonishment.
She smiles. “Eat some with the French toast.”
I look down at my plate, lift the bread, and chomp down on it.
She giggles. “Use your cutlery and your manners, Tyson.”
She sits and takes her knife and fork and saws her French toast into several cubes like I did with the steak. I knew she’d need the little cubes with her small teeth. She forks up a piece and then dunks it into the fruit sauce and puts it in my mouth.
I chew. And she watches.
“Is that the best thing you’ve ever tasted or what?” The excitement in her eyes is contagious. I want to fuck her.
I need to fuck her.
I drop the toast onto the plate, suck the sweetness off my fingers and then I lunge for her, lift her up out of her chair and wrap her legs around my hips while putting her against the humming refrigerator. My mouth is on hers while she gasps in surprise.
“Almost,” I say. “You’re the best thing I’ve ever tasted.” I suck on my mark on her and she shivers.
“Ty-Ty-Tyson, we have to eat.”
“I like when you call me that.”
She moans as I lick her throat and then nibble my way up to her ear and suckle on the lobe, which has a tiny white shiny ear jewel in the center. It clicks against my teeth. I lick the ridge of her ear.
“Huh? Call you what?”
“When you call me Ty. When you say Ty, I know you’re pleased.”
“Let’s eat, Ty,” she whispers, her warm hand stroking the side of my neck.
I smile, carry her back to her chair, and set her down. Immediately, I reach for the crispy meat on my plate and put it in my mouth.
My mouth feels wonderful. I stare wide-eyed at her.
“Bacon,” she announces with big eyes. Happy eyes.