Chuck Roast walked up to the door and rang the bell. He heard stirring inside, and few seconds later, he heard two or three locks, perhaps even four, snapping into place just before a beautiful woman opened the very heavy wooden door.
He said, “I’ve come to answer your personal ad for a dinner companion. Have I come to the right place?”
She smiled. She said politely, firmly, and enthusiastically, “Oh, yes! My name is Bonnie Cook! I definitely want to have a man for my dinner … companion! Indeed, I need to have a man for my dinner … companion! Let’s see if you will be the right man to be my dinner … companion!”
“I hope so. I would like to be your dinner … companion.” He paused as she had, but he didn’t know why. Not yet. More of that later. Just following her lead, he thought. “I didn’t know how to dress for this interview to be your dinner … companion, so I wore a white shirt and a tie to look as good as I could to be your dinner … companion.”
“You look fine! Just fine! You look very … tempting! Indeed, you look very, very tempting and … yummy! You look like you’ll make an excellent dinner … companion! Please follow me!”
He stepped in as she beckoned him forward. Her home was exquisitely furnished, but it had no windows. He found that odd. All the light was from artificial light tastefully designed to highlight the furnishings and the people in the room but little else.
And it was silent as a tomb. Behind its thick walls and heavy door, anything could happen there, and no one beyond them would hear what was going on. Not a thing. Laughter, shrieks of delight, moans of pleasure, screams of terror, sounds of satisfaction, no sound whatever could ever escape from that house. Not a chance. He wondered if that was intentional. He began to wonder if he would escape. It was so somber, quiet, foreboding, and … final. But more of that later.
Still smiling, she sat and said, “Please have a seat!” indicating a chair directly in front of hers. He sat down. She stared at him intently, inspecting him hungrily and eagerly, inspecting him up and down, inspecting him left and right, inspecting him all over as if she wanted him for something special, something very special. He hoped that she approved of him. He hoped that she wanted him. He hoped that he could be something special for her. Whatever she wanted him to be, he would be. He instinctively knew that. Either he would do it on his own, or she would do it for him. Yes, she would do it for him, perhaps to him. He was very sure of that.
“I am looking for a man to be my dinner … companion. I don’t like to eat alone. If you are right for the job and if you follow my orders, being my dinner … companion could become a long-term position. With practice and experience, you could become an excellent dinner … companion for me, much like William Holden was a great dinner … companion for Gloria Swanson in ‘Sunset Boulevard.’ You could live in the spare room above my garage, just like Holden did!”
“I’d like that! If I’m right for the job, I’d like to be your dinner … companion for as long as you want me to be your dinner … companion! And it would help me a lot if I could live here!”
“Good! I like your ambition! Of course, Swanson used Holden to satisfy her sexual desires, too, and not just to be her dinner … companion. And she ultimately killed him. She no longer needed him to be her dinner … companion. He ceased being her dinner … companion. Perhaps he had satisfied her as her dinner … companion.”
“I wouldn’t want that to happen,” said Chuck Roast nervously.
“Oh, it won’t happen … probably!” She laughed heartily. He laughed nervously. “My, but you’re very handsome!”
He blushed. “Thank you.”
“And you have such very large muscles! I can see your pecs bulging out from your chest beneath your white shirt and necktie.”
He blushed deeper. “I try to stay fit.”
She stared at him intently, inspecting him hungrily and eagerly, inspecting him up and down, left and right, all over as if she wanted him for something special, something very special maybe more than just her dinner … companion.
“Oh, you’re much more than fit! Much, much, much more!” she said enthusiastically. She let out a little sigh. She looked at him while clicking her tongue, sucking on her teeth, licking her lips, swallowing hard, and smiling with approval. He was accustomed to women staring at him intently, inspecting him hungrily and eagerly, inspecting him up and down, left and right, all over as if they wanted him for something special, something very special. But she was looking at him with something more than approval, with much, much, much, much more approval than even the most enthusiastic women had ever looked at him before.
He could feel her hot, flashing eyes staring at him intently and inspecting him all over. He felt that she was not just looking at him, but that she was looking into him, looking through his clothes, looking through his skin, looking at the muscles beneath. Her stare made him feel a little uneasy. Indeed, her unusual and intense attention made him feel very uncomfortable, but he also felt very flattered. He _was_ fit and muscular, and he liked beautiful women reminding him of that, especially when they spoke to him with such a sensuous voice. The feeling of flattery won. He decided that he liked her and trusted her. He decided that he wanted the job. He did not yet know what his duties would be, but he knew that he wanted to be her dinner … companion. That would be special, being at dinner with her every evening. He hoped that she approved of him, that she found him good enough to be her dinner … companion. He felt his skin grow hotter as he imagined being her dinner … companion.
“Your muscles look strong and powerful, too! Good! That will come in handy! I can make use of that! Look at your broad, thick shoulders! Your thick pecs on your deep chest! Your large biceps and triceps! And your thighs! And your rump, too! Such great musculature! And you are so well-dressed in your white shirt and tie! Indeed, you’re not only handsome and muscular, but you’re very cute, too! As the saying goes, you look good enough to eat! Would you like that?” And then she laughed oddly.
He blushed even deeper, and he felt his skin grow even hotter under her infrared stare, so hot that he felt as if he _was_ cooking, as if, to continue her metaphor, that she was cooking him as a necessary prelude to her eating him. He liked that feeling.
She smiled and said, “Oh, you’ll do just fine! You have the job! And I’m glad you do! I want you to be my dinner … companion! I can’t wait for you to be my dinner … companion!”
He smiled proudly. “Great! When?”
“This evening! Please arrive promptly at 1700! And then dinner! I’ll be the cook and hostess, and you’ll be my dinner … companion! Here! I have put the clothes that I want you to wear in this garment bag!” She smiled again.
He nodded politely and smiled. He was happy that he had the job, and he wanted to do everything he could to satisfy her, to be her perfect dinner … companion.
