Uno Mas

by Some Leech

Second First Impression

“Fuck,” Anon cursed, precariously carrying a pot of boiling pasta over to the sink. “Just gotta - Damn it!”

“You’re not burning the kitchen down ~ are you?” Haggis called from upstairs.

Shooting a glance to the stairwell, he wiped his brow. “Not yet! Just give me five minutes!”

As he rushed back to the stove with the strained spaghetti, nearly tripping in the process, he glanced over at a saucepan of simmering tomato sauce. Being put on the spot and expected to whip up a meal for two had been no easy task, not for the least of which reasons being the sparse selection of ingredients he had to work with, but he’d somehow managed to throw together what he hoped would be an adequate, albeit simple meal. Mixing the pasta in with the closest thing to marinara that he could make on such short notice, he shifted the pan to the counter and bolted to the stairs.

“You better be in your room,” he yelled, dashing past her door.

A small mercy that Haggis had given him was that she was supposed to be staying in her chamber until his time was up. With the food dealt with and some crusty garlic bread in the oven, he ran into his room and to his closet. While he didn’t have an expansive wardrobe, he couldn’t face her in a dirty apron, kirtle, and braes. Grabbing a fresh blouse and vest, he threw the articles onto his bed and hastily disrobed.

Though it took him a scant few minutes to get changed and comb his hair, every second had to count. Haggis may have been lenient at times, but she’d meant what she said; once his time was up, she’d come marching downstairs to judge both him and his efforts mercilessly. He gave himself a final once-over in his mirror, ensuring he was as presentable as he could be, before rushing back downstairs.

He wasn’t normally one to rush much of anything, but damned if he hadn’t managed to pull everything off. The tavern had adequately cleaned with most of the tables dragged to either side of the cavernous seating area, the dinner was made and ready to be plated, and, all things considered, he didn’t look too shabby. Just as he finished shaving what he hoped was something comparable to parmesan cheese over the pasta, the sound of heavy hooffalls from upstairs crept to his ears.

With a steaming plate of spaghetti in each hand, he scurried out of the table. While the bar may not have been what he’d call a romantic venue, he’d done the best he could with the resources he had available. The dining area was lit by a number of candles, the door was locked to prevent any would-be customers from barging in, and he’d even managed to find a bottle of wine for the occasion - in short, things were as ready as they were going to get.

Setting the plates down at the table, he turned as he heard the kitchen door swing open. “I hope you’re ready for an unforgettable…”

The words died in his throat and his eyes nearly bulged out of his skull, as he gazed over and spotted an unfamiliar figure strutting toward him. The logical part of his brain realized whom he was looking at, yet she stood in stark contrast to the mare he’d known for the better part of a year. With his mouth going dry, she casually made her approach and smiled over at him.

Her eyes were like twin emeralds, her fiery mane and tail flowed almost preternaturally around her, and the jade dress she wore, while simple, accentuated her curves phenomenally. Haggis may have been a surly, burly, intimidating pony most of the time, yet she’d prettied herself up into a downright bombshell. Coming to a halt just before him, she looked him over and grinned.

“Not bad,” she noted as her eyes settled on his face. “Not bad at all…”

“Y…yeah…” he sputtered, tearing his focus off her flank.

Sweet, mother of mercy - he had not been expecting this. Compared to himself, looking like he may have been ready for a job interview, she wouldn’t look out of place at some fancy-pants ball. He remained motionless as she circled him, though he turned his head and eyed her from top to bottom.

Everything about her was a far departure from the norm. The longer he looked, the more details he picked up on. He’d thought he was imagining things at first, but she’d actually anointed herself with a touch of makeup - furthermore, he could detect the subtle scent of what had to be perfume on her. He straightened up when she wandered around him and eased herself into one of the two seats.

Leaning in over her plate, she drew a deep breath through her nostrils. “You didn’t put anything funny in here ~ did you?”

Her offhand question sundered his enthrallment, allowing him to shake his head and gather his thoughts. Turning and seating himself opposite of her, he slid his chair up to the table. He’d gone into this expecting to eat dinner with Haggis - not some enchanting, comely lass who he was having a hard time not ogling.

“Oregano,” he softly noted, picking up his fork, “and some basil - other than that, nothing too crazy.”

She paused and lifted her head, sniffing the air. “I thought I smelled garlic.”

“I - fuck,” he coughed, scrambling from his chair and toward the kitchen.

The garlic bread - how the fuck had he forgotten the garlic bread?! Skidding to a stop before the oven, he hastily donned a pair of mitts, threw the door open, and snatched the baking tray of crispy, buttery bread from inside. A deep sigh of relief escaped him, realizing he’d managed to prevent the side dish from being cremated.

Transferring the bread to a serving platter, he carved the sizzling half-loaf into bite-sized slices and proceeded back to his date. “Sorry about that, I -”

“Mmmph nph pffffnnph mmph!” she unintelligibly noted through a mouthful of spaghetti.

While her appearance had been stunning to a fault, her table manners had remained unchanged. Almost half of her pasta was gone, with a portion of the other half plastered on her cheeks or hanging from her chin. Gone was the alluring, demure creature who’d practically had him wrapped around her hoof, replaced by the boorish mare he’d grown so close to.

He bit back a chuckle as he set the garlic bread on the table between them and took his seat. “Glad you like it,” he mused, inordinately pleased with himself.

All things considered, things were going much better than he’d hoped. Intended or not, her messy eating habits had leveled the playing field - add to that the fact that she liked his cooking and he was as pleased as punch. As he plucked a slice of garlic bread for himself, she straightened up and peaked a brow over at him.

“Not gonna offer me any?” she quipped.

“I - uh - sure?” he uneasily replied, extending the piece of bread over to her.

Fully prepared to deposit the morsel on her plate, he was taken aback when she closed her eyes, leaned forward, opened her mouth, and extended her tongue. Not content to continue glutting herself, it was painfully obvious that she wished for him to feed her - a notion that was somewhat alarming and just a touch provocative. He hesitated for only a moment, unsure of how to proceed, though she wasn’t beholden to such compunctions.

Like a striking serpent, her head shot toward him. The move was blindingly quick, far too fast for him to react properly, and he was woefully unprepared for it. She groaned softly as she wrapped her lips around the bread and his fingers, tainting his dismay with something all the more bone-chilling - exhilaration.

The sensation of her pouting lips and soft tongue upon his digits send a thrilled shiver up his spine. Touching her was nothing new - hell, he’d given her more pats on the back or shoulder than he could count, but this - this was something toeing the line of intimate. Caught at an impasse, relishing the feeling of nibbling the bread from his fingers, he only pulled his arm back when he felt a distinct twitch of something within his slacks.

With her heavily-lidded gaze upon his face, she withdrew and swallowed the morsel. “Gonna need you to teach me how to make that.”

He stared down at his slickened digits and dwelled on the fleeting sensation of her lips around them. Her mouth had been warm, far - far warmer than a human woman's temperature, leading a long-suppressed portion of his psyche to activate. Setting his jaw, he forced unwanted, insidiously lecherous thoughts from his mind and collected himself.

“It’s easy enough,” he murmured, twirling some spaghetti around his fork. “If you want, I can show you tomorrow.”

What the hell was happening?! He’d presumed the evening would be a disaster, an awkward attempt to kill some time, yet things had gone off the rails in a way he would never have predicted. Instead of being raked over the coals and teased, he found it increasingly difficult not to look at Haggis in a new light.

Quietly eating his food, risking the periodic glimpse over at her, he gave a mute prayer to any deity who happened to be listening for strength. While he was happy that he’d made a good impression thus far, his concerns gradually shifted to other, far more shameful matters. She was hot - actually hot, and she’d unintentionally turned him on by eating the bread from his hand. If things took another even remotely sexual turn, he might be in real trouble…

Comments

[D-F]

riiight.... a "mock date"

[Alondro]

And then they boinked.

[Prince Leviathan]

Quite a mock date. Kinda steamy

[WorldWalker128]

Oh my. Seems she's having fun.