What's In Your Mouth?

The Pretty Office Thing never says hello to me.
She never returns my smiles when we pass in the hall.
That isn't unusual here- not many people here smile- they are not in the business of smiles. It is a Law Firm.

Anyway, I was shocked when Pretty Office Thing addressed me at lunchtime- it took me a second to realize that she was talking to me, as she called me 'Hamilton', which is not my name.

"Hey, Ham, whatcha eatin'?"

-no reply-

"Hamilton? Whatcha got?"

"Mmmph -*swallow* - pasta salad." ( and a delicious fantasy involving you and warmed chocolate syrup, but I don't say that)

"Mmm...looks good- c'n I try some? where'd ya get it?"
( I drop a little on her plate using a fork that's been in my mouth. She's OK with that, which is a good sign.)

"I made it. I've been eating it for days. Would you like more?" ( I really enjoy watching you put food in your pretty mouth. Please ask for more)

"Sure. This' really good. Where'd you get the recipe?" ( She is totally digging my pasta salad- for me this is as good as 'Second Base'!)

"Didn't use one. "

She pauses, looks down at the spiral noodles, then resumes eating. It's good stuff.

"Oh. You really made this?" ( Why is that surprising? Perhaps POT , like most attractive women, is accustomed to having men lie to her. I'm not above doing that, mind you, but I wouldn't fib about pasta salad-I can actually make pasta salad)

She eats some more and considers this. It's been a while since I've seen a woman with my food in her mouth. I'm surpised at how much I enjoy watching her. Such a pretty mouth...she asks me a question- I barely hear her- I am quite distracted by this unexpectedly erotic experience

"How? Tell me how."

"How... what ?" ( How about this table-top , right here, right now? We'll probably break it, but so what- How's that sound?)

"How did you make this?"

"Oh. Boiled some pasta, drained it, cooled it , tossed in some oil and vinegar and garlic and some veggies, fresh basil ,blah, blah blah ...not much to it, really."

"Oil and vinegar? Like in Italian dressing?" ( Ok, so maybe POT isn't really bright, but she is a babe and she's eating my pasta and being nice to me, so don't laugh at her.)

"Yep.Exactly. In a pinch , you can even use Italian Dressing."
( And if you wanna play with the Italian Dressing, don't use the Fat Free kind. No oil = no lube)

"Cool. Hey, Ham, can you write that down for me?"

"Sure. I'm Allan, by the way." ( And I will write this down as soon as I get on-line)

This, to me, is awesome. I now have an excuse to approach POT-with a hand-written recipe, no less!
I'm sure you've heard the old cliche: " The ticket to a man's heart is his stomach"? Well, the ticket to a woman's , um, heart, takes the same path.

So I write down a recipe for POT and deliver it to her cube as promised.
Of course, this presents itself as a marvelous chance to ask her to dinner. I've not had a chance to demonstrate my culinary talents to a woman in quite awhile- I've got the whole wonderful event planned in my head- I will even tidy up my apartment when I get home, because I am sure she will say 'YES'.
The weekend is almost here!


"Here you are, as requested."

"Hey, thanks- that was quick! I appreciate this!"

"My pleasure...say, if you aren..."

"My boyfriend loves pasta salad, but he buys it from the store."

"Oh. (Philistine!) Hey, I forgot something on that recipe, can I see it for a sec?"

Directly under the last bit (1/4 cup chopped parsley) I add:

-1 heaping tbsp. saltpeter

-2 tsp. arsenic