The Dinner Date, A short story about Joe

by Anna Breslin

Joe got out of his car full of happy anticipation. He had never waited so long to get a woman in bed. He was feeling as much intrigued by the long road to conquest as he was annoyed by Liz’s archaic game of hard to get.

This was their eighth date. Most women were happy to get naked with him after a few hours, or less. Before Liz, the longest it took him was three dates. The good-girl types had a three-date requirement, but most of them broke that rule for him.

He’s a good-looking guy. A dedicated gym rat. His rock hard abs are visible under his tight T-shirts. His arms are thick with muscles without being too big or scary. His ass looks great in tight jeans, and so does his ample bulge. He can get modeling jobs whenever he wants. Women love him. Some older career-obsessed women had proposed lucrative ongoing arrangements, and he had no problem accepting them. He was proud to be a sugar baby. So it bugged him that Liz wasn’t all over him when she would be getting him for free.

This Saturday night better be the night he gets her into bed at last, or he’d give up his hot pursuit, he thought. Liz invited him to her place for what she said would be a special dinner. He was sure he’d be staying late or staying over if she was any good. He was looking forward to devouring her. There was something about brunettes like her. Something deep and intoxicating. Her long hair was a silky blue-black ebony. Her eyes were as green as emeralds. There weren’t many women in the world who looked like her. She was a goddess.

Joe thought she’d be a wild sex partner. But he thought she might need to hear the “L” word first. “I think I could love you” or “I think I’m falling for you” should work. He had learned how to get just the right look in his eyes and conjure a sincere tone of voice when he spoke those words thanks to his acting classes. Practicing in the mirror helped even more.

When he knocked on the door, he could feel his anticipation growing. Liz opened the door wearing a big smile and a body-hugging dress that matched her eyes. Joe wanted to take her right there. She took the wine and roses he brought and kissed him on his cheek. Joe wanted more than just a peck. But he played it cool.

He wondered if she liked making the first move. There were so many submissive women out there. Playing the Dom was as routine for him as the missionary position for married guys. A dominant woman was always a treat. He loved being the object of desire. It was a lot easier to let a woman take what she wanted. Figuring out their kinks required too much thinking. Joe just wanted to fuck.

“Oh roses, how sweet of you. I rarely like dead plants, but these are beautiful.”

“Yeah, I guess they are dead, I never thought about it that way. Wow, your home is like a greenhouse.”

Joe was amazed by her apartment. He couldn’t see the walls behind the plants, and the ceiling was dripping vines of hanging plants. They filled shelves and graced tables. Many of the tallest plants were blooming.

“Joe, could you help me open the wine?” Liz asked as she flipped her long hair from one side to the other, “I’ve never been great with a bottle opener.” She had two wine glasses ready for them. He could smell something in the oven.

“Sure, I got that. Hey Liz, whatever you’re cooking, it smells amazing.”

“Oh, it’s an old recipe. Something my grandmother taught me how to make when I was a girl.”

“Well, here we are, in your beautiful greenhouse apartment. We have good wine and great food in the oven. You are fantastic. I’m a lucky guy. Here’s to you.” Joe held his glass up to her. She gave him the obligatory clink and smiled with the full red lips he wanted to feel wrapped around his impatient dick.

“Is there anything I can help you with, Liz?” Joe asked even though he could see she didn’t need him to do anything. The table in the little dining room was set, and the candles were lit.

“No. I have it all under control, Joe. But you know what, my timing is a little off. Dinner is ready sooner than I intended.” Just as she finished speaking, the timer went off. “Why don’t you grab our wine and sit down. I just need to pull the Chicken Paprikash out of the oven.”

“Oh, wow, Hungarian food?” He smiled with feigned excitement.

“Yes. Well, my grandmother was Austrian, so she knew some Hungarian recipes. I hope you like it, and I have spaetzle to go with it.”

“Fantastic.” Joe took his seat, feeling like he had hit the jackpot. He had no idea what spaetzle was and thought it sounded too much like spit to be any good. Still, a beautiful woman who can cook is rare. She was a bit old-fashioned, but it was a nice change from the women he had to take out to eat or who could only offer him takeout food when he came over.

He watched as she transferred the chicken from the pan to a platter, he got up to help, but she said she had it and she did. She came into the dining room with a dish in each hand.

“It looks and smells fabulous, Liz. Thanks for cooking. It’s been a long time since I’ve had a home-cooked meal.”

“Don’t you go home very often?” She asked as she sat down.

“No, I don’t get back to Ohio that often. Not as often as my parents would like. I try to get back home once every couple of years. I wish my parents would come visit me in the city, but they won’t let me pay for plane tickets and a hotel.”

“That’s too bad.” Liz had taken his plate and filled it with chicken and sauce and a big serving of spaetzle. He smiled, looking at it, and waited for her to load her plate too before he took a bite. Joe thought it was delicious. It was like he was at a five-star restaurant. He was relieved the spit-zle stuff was just a kind of pasta.

“Oh, Joe, I just realized I forgot to add a special spice to this when I was cooking. Don’t take another bite. It’s something my grandmother gave me. She brought a few bottles back with her on her most recent trip to Vienna.”

Liz went back to her little kitchen and pulled out a step-stool to reach one of the upper cabinets.

“Can I get that for you?” Joe looked at the way her green dress was hugging her body as she reached up with her legs apart. He wanted her to stay like that and make her dessert.

“No, I’ve got it. Thanks!” Liz returned to the dining room with a small ceramic jar and approached him. “Let me give you a pinch or two of this; it’s like nothing you’ve ever tasted. It makes the dish.”

“What is it?”

“You know what? I don’t know. I’ve always just thought of it as Grandma’s special spice.”

The green flakes seemed to sparkle and dance on top of the orange sauce. He took a bite and realized she was right; it was like nothing he had ever tasted. It didn’t have just one flavor; it had at least five. He discovered new taste buds in his mouth; he didn’t know he had. It was savory, it was hot, it was sweet, but there was something more, something he couldn’t describe. After another bite, he felt a tingling sensation. He felt his blood get thick in his veins. It was then that Joe noticed that Liz was watching him and not eating.

“What’s happening?”

“Just relax, Joe. Go with it. You can’t stop it.”


He felt his body grow cold, and then his shoes felt too tight. He saw his toes growing through the leather. They kept getting longer and longer. He felt thirsty, thirsty through his toes. He could feel their desperate need for water.

When he looked at his hands, he saw each finger growing into something new and round. His veins shifted and expanded. He saw his body was changing color. Yellow. Pale green. Green. Dark green. He took one last breath with his lungs and then breathed with his pores.

Liz came for him, taking him the way she wanted. She was a dominant woman, just as he suspected. She undressed him. Then she pulled out a big pot of soil and a hand shovel. She was ready to plant him and add him to her collection.

Joe dug his roots deep into the moist silky soil and felt at home for the first time in his life.


© 2018, A. Breslin. All Rights Reserved

Image Credit: Photo by Timothy Paul Smith on Unsplash

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