Sheridan had been suspicious from the moment she heard David's voice on the other end of the phone. "I'm coming over in fifteen minutes. Don't ask questions, don't argue. Trust me," he'd said. Worse still, he had used that damned devilish tone of his which, in the past, had caused her to make several poor decisions, none of which she regretted.
Now, she was standing in shock at her front door. He wasn't holding flowers, but instead, three full grocery bags. He brushed past her with just a quick peck on the cheek and was into the kitchen before she could find the breath to say hello.
"I'm making dinner for you," he announced. "On two conditions: one, you open that bottle of cabernet in the bag over there and pour us both glasses. Two, you do the dishes afterwards."
She tried to hide her amazement and recover some poise. "Well, I don't know... it depends on what you're making," she teased back. She pulled the cork with practiced ease and poured two glasses. Then, she announced with as imperious a tone as she could manage, "I'm going upstairs to dress. When I return, you shall serve dinner, Jeeves."
Sheridan stood in her bedroom and thought about the situation. She knew he was up to something and she needed to plan her counterattack. First, she showered quickly, concerned he might show up in the bathroom and try to circumvent dinner. He didn't. Next, she pulled out her best bra and matching panties. The bra fit her like her own skin and enhanced - just enough - her cleavage. Then, she slipped into a soft floral print dress that displayed that cleavage like grapes on a vine. Finally came the coup de grace, her own body lotion mix. Besides its intoxicating scent, it also tasted like strawberries. She smoothed some on her wrists, neck and breasts, then down her stomach and between her thighs. "That guy won't be able to focus on anything but me," she smirked to herself. "He's toast." She strolled down the stairs barefoot, revealing herself slowly to him.
"You're stunning!" David exclaimed as she descended the stairs.
"I'm hungry," she replied trying to be aloof. Still, in spite of herself, she blushed at his enthusiasm. The flush warmed her cheeks and her upper chest glowed with a subtle redness.
He moved toward her and began to circle his arm around her waist, breathing her in.
"We could skip dinner," he whispered, his voice husky and playful.
"Oh, no you don't!" She wriggled away, laughing through a smug grin. "You made a promise and I'm still hungry." She was surprised he didn't look disappointed. Instead, his look seemed mischievous, almost...evil, she thought.
"Well, we'll start with a small salad. Then, we'll move on to marinated lamb, new potatoes, and asparagus. More wine?" He filled her glass without waiting for a reply.
"Not bad...for a man," she remarked, trying to be testy. "But, what about dessert? And don't say that I'M dessert. I want ALL the courses."
"Of course there's dessert. Strawberries and cream!"
Dinner was a complete liquefaction of the senses for them both. She tasted the sight of his strong hands along with the spices in the lamb. Her voice inspired the wine for him and the dessert seduced him. And though they sparred like matched foils throughout the conversation, neither one really remembering what was said.
