Pooner Diaries: Breakfast

[Birdboy 10482]

I've been up for a little while now. It'll be sunrise soon, in this late winter morning. And I'm whipping up a nice breakfast, doing everything as quietly as I can. She's a light sleeper and it would be a shame to wake her up. I've already gone out to that French bakery around the corner, smiled at the crusty and cranky shopkeeper who I saw was already slicing yet another new shopgirl to ribbons with her sharp tongue, and bought some fresh croissants. I snuck back into my place, closing the door as quietly as I could.

 

I've squeezed us some fresh orange juice and made some coffee already. And I've cut up some basil, green onions, and tomatoes. I grate some aged asiago, the rich tang wafting around me, making me smile with its rich scent.

 

I smiled to think of her in my bed, dozing lightly. I saw her often, but only very rarely like this. We were up late last night. After the fireworks, we lay in bed and talked a good long time, just holding each other. We punctuated our words with light kisses and gentle strokes, as I gazed into her clear blue eyes. We finally spooned and drifted off to sleep, my arms still around her, keeping her warm, keeping her safe.

 

I cracked some eggs into a bowl and beat them briskly, the golden orange viscous liquid making blooping noises. I ground some pepper into the bowl, added a dash of sea salt and just a smidgen of cream. I heated the skillet with a pat of butter, the gentle creamy gold running and flowing to heavy liquid, adding its own richness to the aroma in the room.

 

She said that she much preferred to sleep alone. But with me, she dozed happily, peacefully. I saw the half-smile at the corners of her mouth as she slept, the crisp white sheets not quite covering her breasts as they rose and fell. She's so beautiful, I'm such a lucky man. I was tempted to stroke those tiny pink buds just tantalizingly within reach, but I would wake her. I settled for just the thought.. for now. I ever so gently slipped out of the bed and went downstairs, pulling on a robe.

 

I poured the egg mixture into the hot skillet. The heavy, viscous liquid whitened immediately as it touched the pan and as I swirled the pan to spread it evenly. Bubbles form under the embryonic omelette, making it gently undulate.

 

In a few short hours, she'll be gone. And I don't know when I'll see her again like this. But I know that wherever she'll be, she'll carry a little piece of me along with her, as she's left a little piece of herself with me in my memories.

 

The eggs are cooked just so. I spoon a little goat cheese over the mixture. I put the salmon, basil, onions in the skillet and sprinkle the asiago over everything. The onions add their own tang to the scent. I fold over the eggs and place them on a plate that I had warmed in the oven. I pause for a moment, thinking, then get a precious truffle from the pantry, and grate it over the omelette. I arrange a sprig of parsley and some orange zest on the plate, just so.

 

Some might say that I'm crazy, pouring so much effort and passion into a fantasy. But I don't see it that way. I love to cook, and I love to entertain. And a life spent without putting all the passion you can into everything you do is only a life half lived. Sure, I wish the woman upstairs loved me. But she likes me a lot, and that's good enough for me right now.

 

Almost done. I set the plate on a tray, fresh cut flowers in a bud vase. A small plate for the croissants, and pour a glass of the juice. Coffee and a bowl of strawberries and cream last on the tray, and it's time to go and wake her. She'll be surprised.

[Victoria Banks 21899]

Lucky woman!

 

I'm hungry now for some reason.

[ekimout 188]

You have a great way of painting a picture and telling a story.

 

Please continue!

[chavez 641]

As alway Birdboy , I love your words. We could use more creative characters here.

On this submission you got a little far away from sex for me. I admit you includes the stawberrys and cream ; I'd like to hear a little more of you intentions or a little more of what happened.

Yes the tittilation is nice, but paint us a bigger picture. (I know you can). This was like peeping through the keyhole, I'd like to be there in the room with you.

Yours in creative prose.... to the end..... chavez ;-)

[Birdboy 10482]

My Pooner Diary tales are all about the hobby, but they aren't all about sex. This reflects the multifaceted nature of the business. Getting off is important, but not the only thing.. fulfilling fantasies, feeling human contact, feeling desired all play into it as well.

 

This is one of my most subtle tales. Here is what a good friend had to say about it, and she hit the nail right on the head.

It's a nice little piece, bb. Very evocative in the culinary details. At bottom, I think the narrator is making the perfect breakfast because he can't make the perfect relationship with this woman. This is the one thing he can make impeccable between them. Secretly he hopes that she'll understand the depth of the gesture, but he ultimately knows that it will be lost on her, except as a pleasant surprise...I like it.

Longing, desire, good food, the suggestion of great sex though not the detailed description of it. All bound up into one tale. What more could you ask for? ;)

[Andee 220524]

It may not have been about sex, but still very erotic and got me salivating, for sure!