“Jaaaakob,” came the soft dulcet tones that sent a lick of fire scampering through his veins before plummeting downwards. As the figure stepped into a shaft of moonlight, Bela’s sweetly curved face and glistening russet hair tilted up towards him.
They stood together for what seemed an endless moment, trapped in the glow and gazing at each other. Jakob’s hand gripped the voluptuous potato, digging his fingers into the flesh as its juices escaped, dripping down his fingers. How could he have forgotten this? The way the smell of her made him itch inside his very soul? He knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that Woeisme was a forced infatuation he had deluded himself with, if only to forget .. to forget the way she looked right into him.
He lifted the potato up helplessly to her. The wetness where he had gripped it caught the glow of moonlight. Lips curved in soft humor, her eyes traveled down to gaze at the juicy russet nestled securely in his large hand. An eyebrow arched and a flash of hunger glimmered deep within the warm dark pools of her eyes.
“What are you offering me Jakob?”
Bela stepped back slightly, parts of her hidden again from him and the golden shaft of light, awaiting his answer.
“Bela, I w-want.. I want to..” Jakob struggled with his emotions, suddenly aware of the reek of werewolf urine on him. He strove not to root himself to the kitchen floor. “ I NEED to … cook for you. Look, you have this perfection,” gazing at her as his russet lips lingered over the word, “that just begs to be handled, to be… devoured.”
Bela studied him solemnly, bringing her thumbnail up to chew at it while she pondered the potato and pondered Jakob. Suddenly there was a gurgling sound from the nether regions of Bela’s robes and a wolfish grin came across Jakob’s countenance.
“Ah Bela, let me fix you the delights you deserve. Come, come out here in the moonlight and we will bake these succulent russets as they have never been baked before!”
Jakob flipped the russet beauty to his left hand, grabbing the other russet beauty in a wetly urgent grip, tugging her towards the great butcher-block table in the center of the kitchen. Bela’s gown sibilantly whispered as she scurried in his wake, her hand gripping his just as tightly, laughing with childish delight.
Jakob began stacking potatoes in front of them, the earthy smell wafting joyfully to their noses. “Have I ever shown you how to skin a potato Jakob-style?”, he arched a cocky smile down at her by his side.
• 
Brilliant Cat. Just fraking brilliant.
Your use of language and double entendre was wonderful to read.
Brava!
The above was written by Kathleen, not Peter. For some reason I can’t post as myself 🙁
Kath
Actually, honey, I’m trying to arrange it so that everyone who posts on the board can only post as me. It will satisfy my massive ego, cut down on disagreements by causing confusion and, really, make the world a better place…
PAD
Thank you Kathleen and Peter too – this was fun, jest what I needed to lift my spirits at the beginning of a very long week.
I just hope I left things open for others to have fun with and take far. I can only imagine where it will go from here!
You can split the laundry tab with Sana, or youy can buy me another Timmie. ;D
Ah “countenance”! Having just finished FRANKENSTEIN I’ve come to believe this word was coined strictly in the spirit of injecting melodrama into a situation. Congratulations on continuing the legacy. Now has anyone worked in the word “anguish” yet.