Abigail Slaughter

Carl leered his enjoyment, knowing where and how he would lead his Tea-and-toast he laid open the skin of the pork meat and carefully held a small piece above Venita's tongue, encouraging her to breath deeply, to take in the taste and smell. She inhaled and beneath her closed lids, her eyes rolled up and her jaw dropped at the pure pleasure of feeling without a touch and visualising without sight that perfume of spice and meat.

With his fingers, Carl delicately denuded the bacon on his plate of its crisped rind and placed a bare inch of it along Venita's back teeth. "Slowly... Chew."

She gasped in surprise. Her teeth ground easily across the hardandsoft texture, at once tearing, and sinking into, the fat. A fry-sharpened spike barbed Venita's tongue spurring her to clamp teeth and bite down hard to savour the small pain as a compliment to the flavours flooding her senses.

Venita felt cold smoothness against her lower lip as Carl dominated her with the command "Open. Sip." Flooding her tongue and teeth with clean water, he noted a furrowing of her brow. A thought. A query. A worry?

"Oh my god. I don't know the 'stop' word" thought Venita as she began to struggle against this physical onslaught of her taste buds, but never even peeping, not once, trusting this just-met stranger completely.

"Oh Tea-and-toast. How could I hurt you? Don't you worry for a second dear heart, far from harm; I'm going to delight you. The best is yet to come." He dropped his voice to a whisper as he leant forward. "Be ready for ecstasy."

Carl waited. Venita waited. Taking wicked advantage of her closed eyes he tilted his head to the side peering closely between her veil of hair and her brown jaw and witnessed the evidence he knew would be there. With the only grease-free finger he had, he gently touched the almost invisible spot at the top of Venita's nose, between her eyebrows, making her flinch ever-so slightly, and felt the slightly drier patch of skin where perhaps spirit gum had been used too frequently. He smiled.

"Roll your tongue."

Venita knew the taste of beans and of tomatoes, but this river of delight coursing down the channel of her tongue was a totally new experience. Her back arched and she was shocked to find that this caused her suddenly erect nipples to graze the folds of her silk shirt making her immediately self-conscious as she brought her shoulders forward to shrink from the feather touch. She swallowed. Carl delighted in his prediction of her reaction and visibly struggled with his need to administer the coup-de-monde.

Venita was lost in a miasma of original, sometimes frightening sensations taking her from surprise to delight and a myriad of places in between.

Carl bade her "Show me your beautiful tongue one last time Tea-and-toast, after this, you can open your eyes at any time. Tongue"

Anticipation, apprehension and a small niggle of fear swept through Venita. She new what was to come, what was left to have, what it would do to her and how disappointed she knew she would feel. The reality astounded her.

He laid a piece of the last part of his... their, breakfast on her flattened tongue and instructed her how to consume it. "No teeth. Just roll it around in your mouth with your beautiful tongue. Crush it to the roof of your mouth. Work it backwards to your throat. Caress it. Swallow when you must, but not too soon."

"Oh my god." Venita fought the impulse to open her eyes, to see what it was that Carl had been hiding. This wasn't on the plate. This felt like... She dare not even think it but now she had the image and it wouldn't leave. The familiar darkening of her cheekbones and across her nose told Carl she had the image he wanted her to have and if his timing was right, then her eyes would fly open with the fear of unspoken knowledge, that she would never tell and he could never guess.

That particular taste had been there all along, from seconds after she began to crush the black pudding to her upper palate. This taste was so familiar that it didn't register for quite some time. This taste shouldn't be now. This taste, to accompany the image, should have been slightly salty. This taste was a monthly taste. And this taste was the one that dampened Venita's panties.

She swallowed.

Her eyes flew open and what she saw was Carl with a wide smile on his face, her flickering eyes caught the enraptured gaze from the steam and finally the last piece of delight held gingerly in Carl's fingers. Venita didn't draw blood, but she did bite hard enough around the black pudding, enveloping it and held Carl's fingers between her teeth, in payment for rapture, as her stomach muscles clenched and relaxed in waves, making her small body relax and tense in consensual sympathy. The natural fibres of the chair too, seemed to move of their own accord, massaging where they touched and against all propriety, stroked, smoothed and lifted Venita to a never-before (or since) experienced height of sensual pleasure.

Carl fell silent and smiling broadly all the time, continued to eat the remains of his breakfast, glancing often at Venita's face to watch for the inevitable downward, sad, spiral to the here-and-now.

As she sipped her fresh mug of tea, provided silently and with what appeared to be thanks by the steam wraith, Venita smiled and drew a breath of gratitude, but before she could speak, Carl had placed his finger on her lips, to gain her silence.

"There are two things you should know Tea-and-toast, one is, that will probably never work again. It's a one shot thing, in my experience. Sad, frustrating, but true. Two. Abigail must like you very much. There's only a handful of people at the office who she has asked me to 'breakfast'. I think you'll enjoy working with us."

The half hour had taken an hour and a quarter; Venita was unsure what her reception back at the office would be, and whether or not she should change her panties before going in. She did.

Carl led Venita to the door of Abigail's office and ushered her in. "Here we are Tea-and-toast. She's all yours Ab... igail." The sudden gathering thunder crossing Abigail's face was replaced by a brief smile at the contrite grin and deliberate wink of his right eye.

"So Venita, or can I call you Ven?" Abigail watched Venita's face for a nod or a smile or even a quick shake of the head or frown at this quite intimate enquiry.

With flared nostrils and half-lidded eyes, Venita's still heightened senses succumbed to the... the... the fragrance, that's the only way she could describe it, that fragrance which permeated the immediate area around Abigail's desk. She was transported, completely unaware of the half smile on Abigail's lips, whose eyes were flickering between Venita's transfixed face and the hardening of her small nipples.

* * *

Butterfly wings capture my breath You glance, I breathe Chill fingers clutch my heart You smile, I beat Hanging, web snared You devour me.

Abigail read the poem inscribed on the inside of the card. Venita listened, mute. "Well?"

Uncertainty suffused Venita's face, darkening her eyes and skin as she tried desperately for nonchalance. "What?" Taking her spoon once more she stirred her cooling tea again.

"What d'you think? Is it as good as I think it is?"

"Why ask me? I'm not a writer." She denied. "I'm an artist, you said so."

"I just want your opinion Ven. What's wrong?"

"Yes. Yes, it's pretty good. Quite nice. Yes. I like it. It's good."

"I just wish I knew who'd sent it."

"Maybe it was someone in the office?" Venita ventured.

"I wish."

Venita rose from her chair, breathing relief, fought for balance and drained her cold tea. "I'll see you after lunch then." Her hurried flight halted with Abigail's voice.

"Could you have a look at these for me Ven?" Abigail flourished a sheaf of pencil drawings, familiar drawings. Venita took the artwork as Abigail continued; "I'm interviewing the guy this PM." Venita hid her face and smile behind the drawings "So can you give me an 'opinion'" she articulated the word " after lunch?" Venita nodded and fled. Abigail sat, wondering what all that was about.

On her way out Venita handed the sheaf of papers to Carl with instructions on timing and the message that she had called back not looking well and gone home. Carl merely nodded "Leave it with me Tea-and-toast." Venita smiled and left.

* * *

"Mr Persaud." Intoned Carl, with slight emphasis on the 'mister' as he ushered the dark skinned, slight form of Ranji into Abigail's office.

The two exchanged first names in greeting as they shook hands warmly and when Ranji pulled Abigail's hand she followed to be embraced, towering over his shorter frame.

"You smell divine." Smiled Ranji, breathing deeply and removing his trilby hat and throwing it casually onto the table.

"Business Ranji. Business." Chided Abigail at his familiar tone.

"Of course business." He agreed. "But is pleasure too." He teased. "Business with Abigail Slaughter can be nothing but pleasure."

Smiling and stepping towards the door Abigail invited Ranji to take a seat as she pulled open the door and called to Carl to ask if Venita had returned. Carl, ready with his role, informed his boss of the secretary's whereabouts and her message of "yes, very good." as an opinion.

Abigail took the drawings from Carl and turned to Ranji, who was smiling the whitest smile and still standing next to her desk. As she took a pace forward Abigail's hair brushed the underside of the door frame. The almost invisible shuddering of her shoulder muscles did not go unnoticed by Ranji. His already impossibly wide smile managed to broaden more, as he unbuttoned his jacket to reveal gaudy red braces.

Abigail halted her progress, her eyes searching Ranji's face. Puzzlement creased her forehead, trying to remember something vague and unformed at the back of her mind, on the tip of her tongue.

"You received card?" Ranji broke her spell. He stood confidently, hands in the pockets of his Baggies.

"From you?"

"Yes from Ranji. You like verse? My own humble scribbling."

Flustered, Abigail was torn between incipient recognition and a foreboding of eroticism emanating from the smart little man daring her with his eyes to betray his secret. He smiled and looked thoughtfully at the tall red-headed woman, pressing his white-nailed fingers to the middle of his eyebrows, pressing lightly.

"These drawings of yours are very good, excellent. I really like them." She was babbling and she knew it but was unable to still her tongue in the face of Ranji's subtle but obvious bodily invitation. "I've had Venita look at them. My secretary. She says your drawings-"

"Fuck the drawings."

"?"

"Fuck the fucking drawings and drop the latch on that door if you will?"

Abigail, in a trance, dropped the latch. Anticipation coursed through her body, kissing her lightly over every inch of her pale skin.

"Come here please." Abigail moved on legs made liquid. Stopping directly in front of Ranji, she leaned forward. He whispered, "Be ready for ecstasy."

A trilby hat fell softly to the floor followed by the fluttering Valentine card and the room was filled with Abigail's Laughter.