This passage is near the end of the chapter I am currently writing. Bolt narrates. She's a flighty day angel. You tell me, is she excited?

Gloss: Tarantino teaches us that nothing equalizes people or is as relatable as sharing a meal… Teri is the name the devil-girl is using at this point in the story. It is short for Night Terror. She can perform what to us looks like magic. The passage is a barely revised first draft.

My worries fluttered away like a moth to a street lamp when the server delivered a golden custard dessert, a mound on a plate sealed under a burnt-brown crazed caramel-glass shell, in a moat of purple-brown, fragrant with cooked sugar and orange-berry liqueur.

"What's this?" I asked.

Her spoon floated over and tapped. Shards of glass sugar popped into a rubble skirt revealing the yellow hill, flecked with red, green, and brown herbs, which when I sniffed caressed my nose with hints of anise, mint, cinnamon, and… that tingle? Cayenne?

Teri replied, "We danced, so now you've had dinner and here's dessert."

"Sweet," I said, before thrusting my spoon in. Reflexively.

Dancing, dinner, and dessert? Men propositioned by a woman who was too lazy to have a plan suggested that.

Teri is not a guy, I reminded myself, then, a spoonful of—

Oh. My. Stars! Creamy, spicy, sugary bliss. I hugged myself, wings and arms, brushing the napkin off my lap and nearly dropping the spoon. Sweet was something I rarely had, but need it, want it, must have it instantly commandeered my brain, annihilating all resistance, maybe more so than my excuses to allow myself to be ridden by Teri had. I scooped glistening perfection. I sighed enjoying each spoonful. I won't admit to an occasional moan. I barely paused to wipe my chin.

"You happy now?" Teri asked as I crunched on the faintly carob flavored sugar shards.

"Ecstatic!"

Not exactly When Harry Meet Sally

[Author retains copyright (c)2026 R.S.]

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