A lot of research went into this week's Short Story. I spent a few days
researching various poisons - if anyone looks at my Google search history I
could be in trouble. I always enjoy learning new things and finding out how
many poisonous plants are out there was eye-opening. In the end poison didn't
make it into the story, but it was interesting reading and learning about how
they impact the body. Today though why not give The Dating Game a read - I
hope it doesn't put you off dating!
The Dating Game
Sally bounced on her toes, dancing to her favourite song; F**kin’ Perfect by
P!nk. She stirred a creamy sauce bubbling in a saucepan with her wooden spoon,
tapping it on the side of the pan when she removed it. The extractor fan
whirred, but the music was loud enough to cover the noise. Prawns sizzled in a
saute pan to her left. A solitary strawberry sat on a white chopping board on
the kitchen counter. She stepped across to the chopping board, singing along,
and pulled leaves from the strawberry, picked up a small knife and sliced the
fruit. She tipped the fruit into the sauce, swaying to the music, and used the
hand blender. It thrummed in her hand as she blended the strawberry into the
mixture.
She dipped a finger into the creamy mixture and licked it. A smile spread
across her face. She dropped the blender into the sink and picked up the saute
pan, shaking it to dislodge prawns stuck to the bottom, then tipped them into
the strawberry sauce. A cooker timer beeped, and she tapped a small button
next to the clock on the cooker, and the alarm stopped.
Soft spaghetti bobbed in another saucepan of boiling water. She twisted a
knob, turning the gas off, picked up a colander, grabbed the pan of spaghetti
and drained the pasta water. With the pasta drained, she took it back to the
hob where she dropped it into the cream with the prawns. The empty pans
clanged as she dropped them into the sink. Using the wooden spoon, she stirred
the spaghetti and prawns into the sauce, turning them over and mixing, coating
it in her ‘secret’ sauce.
She kept the spaghetti and prawns warm on the hob and laid the wooden spoon on
a kitchen towel on the counter. Sally danced to the fridge and tugged on the
door. She pulled out a bottle of wine and opened it while bouncing from foot
to foot. Her phone dinged, and she rushed to pick it up. She grinned at the
screen and let out an excited squeak. She put the phone back on the table next
to her place setting.
All morning she’d cleaned the dining area, wiping the glass table, putting out
table settings and crockery, and making the place smell inviting. Now she
looked around, surveying her hard work. Clean white plates sat at opposite
ends of the table, tall wine glasses to one side, cutlery on both sides of the
plate. A short vase filled with water beads sat in the centre. Sally spied a
knife askew and hurried to the table to adjust its position. With the wine
bottle in hand, she poured wine into the tall glasses and put down the
bottle.
She stared at her wineglass. Bubbles danced in the liquid and Sally swallowed
the saliva in her mouth. She reached over for her wineglass, tipped it back
and gulped the wine, then refilled her glass. She smirked at herself. The song
reached its climax and Sally danced in circles in the middle of the room. She
spun on her toes, waving her arms in the air, and laughed.
A bang on the door made her jump, and she stopped dancing and looked at the
screen built into the wall. Mickey stood in front of her door holding a
bouquet of white lilies. Every few seconds he glanced behind him. She tapped
her phone, and the music stopped.
Her stomach fluttered as she wandered to the door. She smiled at her guest as
the door swung open.
“Hi,” he handed her the flowers, “these are for you. Your favourites, right?”
“Yes. Thank you. Why don’t you come in? I’m about to serve.”
Sally stepped back, and he took a few steps into her apartment before looking
at her.
“You look beautiful.” he said.
She turned her back to him, hiding the sneer, and closed the door.
“Thanks.”
Sally dropped the lilies onto the counter next to the hob and turned to
Mickey.
“Have a seat, I’ll dish up.”
The black leather chair’s wooden feet scraped against the tiles as Mickey
pulled it from under the table. He pulled up his jeans before sitting and
leaned back on the chair, watching her. Her skirt flicked as she spun on her
heels and grabbed the spaghetti pan. With the pan in hand she wandered back to
the table and using her plastic tongues she laid spaghetti and prawns onto his
plate. She dished out her own food, then returned the pan to the hob. Without
a word, she walked over to the table and sat across from him.
“Enjoy” she said.
He smiled. He looked at his food and picked up the cutlery. “What’s in the
sauce?” he said.
“It’s my secret recipe.”
“It looks delicious.”
Sally’s eyes sparkled as she watched him poke his fork into the spaghetti,
twisting and pulling. He shovelled the spaghetti into his mouth, chewed, and
swallowed. She grinned. She picked up her own cutlery and began eating. With
each mouthful he took, her grin grew.
“So, what were you like as a kid?” he asked.
She finished her mouthful of spaghetti and shrugged. “Like any other kid, I
guess. Ran around, played with toys, the usual. You?”
He shovelled another forkful into his mouth and swallowed. “I loved going out
on my bike, I’d ride around for hours with my friends. I guess it must’ve
stuck ‘cause I still love riding. Every Sunday I choose a new circuit. And you
know, if you ever want to come with me, you’re always welcome.” he grinned.
When she didn’t answer he looked up. His brows pinched together.
“Everything okay, Sally?”
Mickey put his cutlery onto the plate. “Sally?” He leaned back in his chair.
“Did I say something wrong?”
Sally sat across from him, unmoving, like a porcelain doll showcased on a
shelf. A smile plastered on her face, her eyes wide.
The crease in his forehead deepened, and he clutched his stomach. He moaned
and doubled over. “Um, Sal- What was in th-” he coughed, “the sauce?”
His eyes widened, and he turned to look at her. She smirked but didn’t move.
Colour faded from his face as he clung to his midriff. He shook his head. He
gulped for air, but as he got less oxygen with each breath he waved his hands
at Sally. With the smirk pasted on her face, and her eyes wild, she watched
him reach into his jeans pocket while trying to press on his stomach with the
other arm. He pulled out an EpiPen.
Sally lunged. Jumping up from her seat and diving across the room at Mickey.
She grabbed the pen from him. He breathed a sigh of relief, smiled, and
nodded. But when Sally put the EpiPen on the table out of his reach, his smile
faded and he patted his throat, mouth open. He wafted his hands at Sally. She
knelt in front of him, stroked his thigh with her palm, gazed at him. But the
EpiPen stayed on the table.
He shook his head. Blinked. His lips turned a shade of blue and her smile
grew.
She got up on her knees, pressed her chest against his and whispered into his
ear. “It’s nearly over now.”
He stared, the white of his eyes popping against the blue hue of his skin. He
flailed his arms, but the weakness showed as they dropped to his sides. His
eyelids drooped, and he lolled in his chair.
Sally watched as his half-closed eyes glazed. She leaned in and brushed her
lips against his. A tingle along her spine made her shiver, and she looked
deep into the abyss behind his eyes. She caressed his cheek with the back of
her hand, brushing his springy curls aside. Heat flowed through her and her
heart pounded. She grasped his hair and yanked his head back. As his eyes
widened for the last time she planted her lips against his, poked her tongue
into his mouth, and moaned as she kissed him.
She broke the kiss and let go of his hair. “Thank you.”
Sally pushed herself up and turned her back on him, straightening her skirt.
She took a deep breath, picked up her phone from the table, and headed for the
door. On opening the door, she glanced back at Mickey’s still body.
“You were great.” she called and blew him a kiss.
And she was gone.
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