“I’ll do my best to remember the exact words,” he chuckled, “But you can call a halt at any time you like.”
“Good, let’s not let this get too weird. Shall we have a safe word?”
“What’s a safe word?”
“My god, you really are old-school aren’t you? Oh fuck…sorry, no offence.”
“It’s okay,” he laughed, “But I do need to know what a safe word is.”
“It’s a word or phrase we can use, a way of calling a stop when it goes too far.”
“All right, how about the words ‘and scene?'”
“And scene?”
“Yes, like a movie. If I say or do anything too much, just say those words and I’ll stop instantly.”
“Okay,” she said, taking another sip of wine, “This could be fun. What was your date’s name?”
“Sandra.”
“I guess I’m Sandra tonight then,” she said, “Now would you be so kind as to refill my glass? Someone appears to have drunk all my wine.”
****
The next couple of hours went by in a flash. CJ was easy company and pretending not to know one another put an interesting spin on the evening. He asked ‘Sandra’ about her life and thinking on her feet, Cat made up a backstory which was remarkably similar to her own. There were a few differences, Sandra went travelling in the Far East rather than South America and earned a degree in Sociology instead of English & Art, but otherwise their lives were more or less identical. Sandra was even married and going on a date behind her spouse’s back, what a wicked woman.
CJ meanwhile was back to his confident self and the talk and wine flowed easily. Plus, it turned out that he could cook. The food was on a par with the restaurant they’d visited and if she hadn’t seen him in the kitchen with her own eyes, she’d have sworn he’d got a professional chef to sneak the meals in and pass them off as his own. The chocolate mousse he served for dessert was so nice she had to force herself to eat it slower.
“I have to hand it to you,” she said, taking the last off her spoon, “That was good food.”
“Thank you,” he replied, refilling her wine glass, “I aim to please.”
“Honestly, that was delicious,” she was scraping the spoon round the bowl, trying to gather up enough of the mousse to form another mouthful, “Were you a chef in a former life?”
“No, I just adore cooking. It’s one of my passions,” he said, “It’s all things I’ve picked up from cookbooks and television; I copy celebrity chefs and get more credit than I deserve.”
“You deserve all the credit,” she said, finally putting the spoon down and accepting that dessert was finished, “The best I can normally manage is sausage and mash or a frozen pizza.”
“Well my philosophy is, not being able to cook is like not being able to make love,” he winked at her.
“Is that so?” she laughed, “How do you figure that?”
“We have to do both for the rest of our lives so we might as well do them properly.”
“Ha, well if you can do one as well as the other I’m in for a treat later,” she grinned.
“My goodness Sandra, here I thought you were married.”
“I am, but my husband can’t cook,” she smirked.
CJ looked at her for a moment, the corners of his mouth turned up and then they were both laughing heartily.
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