Covered Dish
by Astra <astraplain@yahoo.com 

The invitation surprised her but she accepted it 
gladly. They had been friends for years, yet they had 
precious little time to spend together. Dinner in his 
cabin would be delight.

She arrived exactly on time, freshly showered and 
wearing her casual best. The Krellian silk tunic 
shimmered with violets and blues to enhance her ivory 
pale skin and indigo eyes. The dark blue leggings 
showed off her legs. She looked good and she knew it. 
Judging from his reaction, he knew it too.

"Welcome." He greeted her with a glorious smile, his 
hand touching her just for a moment, making her skin 
tingle.

"Thank you." She replied, stepping across the 
threshold and getting her first look at the dinner 
table. It was beyond extravagant.

Crystal flutes glowed rose, the liquid inside 
illuminated by candlelight. Silverware lay swathed in 
damask napkins beside china that even she recognized 
as Eeishka, the inlaid opaline stark against the 
black of the plate. In the center of the table sat a 
cut crystal bowl filled with water, and floating 
gently within were two rare and delicate fire lilies.

Nothing on the table was replicated, except, perhaps, 
the silver. The gesture affected her deeply, and she 
sought his eyes, unable to voice her appreciation 
with mere words.

"You're welcome," he responded, holding out a chair 
for her. Taking his place across from her, he smiled, 
watching as she traced the pattern on her plate with 
a gentle touch.

He served her a queen's feast, light yet savory, full 
of exotic tastes and textures. The memory of her last 
meal, coffee and croissants so many hours ago, faded 
quickly. They laughed and talked as the hour passed 
unnoticed.

"That was wonderful," she signed, dabbing at her 
mouth before placing the napkin on her plate.

"We're not done yet."

She watched him rise, laying his napkin aside, then 
cross to the sideboard where the pile of empty dishes 
lay. There was one small plate off to the side, 
covered with a silver dome. He lifted it gently and 
she noticed the care with which he handled it.

"My lady," he whispered, his voice oddly hoarse. He 
placed the plate in front of her, sliding her dirty 
dishes out of the way. Their eyes locked.

"What is it?"

"Something I've been meaning for you to try for a 
long time."

She reached for the dome, but he stopped her, lifting 
the lid himself. His eyes never left hers, and she 
almost couldn't pull herself away to look down.

"Look," he whispered.

She did.

It was small and smooth and nearly clear, with a 
multitude of surfaces that reflected the light. A 
perfect gem.

"Taste it."

Uncertain she reached for her fork. His touch stopped 
her.

"Like this." He lifted the single morsel and 
carefully placed it in the palm of her hand. It was 
cold and smooth and lovely and it quivered slightly 
when touched.

She lifted it to her lips, but hesitated. "Aren't you 
having any?"

"No. This is for you."

She considered this, a smiling touching her lips. She 
locked her eyes onto his and raised the morsel to her 
lips once more. Deliberately she dragged her tongue 
across the top, delighted by the tangy-tart flavor.

Watching her, he swallowed hard.

She licked the treat again.

He swallowed harder and braced one hand on the table.

She relented at last, beckoning to him. "Why don't we 
share?"

She held the sticky sweet out to him and he ran his 
tongue over it and beyond, down to her wrist where he 
placed a kiss before stepping back. She shuddered.

The morsel was dwindling fast, the remnants puddled 
in her hand. She looked at it sadly. "It's almost 
gone."

"Good thing I made more."

That tone of voice made her smile. He was almost 
purring.

"You did?" She played the coquette so well.

"Indeed. Would you like to see?"

"You are the host."

"True." He reached over and took the last of the 
treat in his mouth, scraping his teeth across her 
palm as he did. He felt her shiver.

She allowed him to lead her into the bedroom where 
another, larger dish sat on his nightstand. Inside 
were dozens of the grape-sized delight.

He fed her one as he undressed her, then kissed her, 
capturing the flavor, then allowed her to do the 
same.

The bowl was only half-empty when they abandoned it 
for other, more interesting tastes and textures. It 
wasn't until morning, when she was helping him clear 
away the debris that she remembered to ask him what 
the little treats were called.

"Something rare and exotic, like you my love," he 
answered, giving her a kiss. "I found them in the 
archives. They're called jell-o."

:::end:::