A Trifecta Of Terror
by
Aaron Majewski
Smashwords edition 2011
The right of Aaron Majewski to be identified as the author of this book has been asserted in accordance with Section 77 and 78 of the Copyrights and Patents Act 1988.
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Warning: The following works contain adult content intended for readers of a mature nature.
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A Trifecta Of Terror
The werewolf and the tentacled brain eater (a love story)
A detective story
The Ooze
THE WEREWOLF AND THE TENTACLED BRAIN EATER
(a love story)
The richly appointed dining room had a wide table big enough for ten, but only two place settings, set across from each other, wait for diners. Early dusk, the sun is up but just beginning to set, seen out through the room’s expensive, delicately made glass french doors, their blinds drawn back to show the pretty failing orb. The chandelier lights are turned down low seductively, and the table has a pair of unlit candles sitting on it, as well as dinner. On the middle of the table several steaming dishes wait, a roast sits on a butcher block, which in turn sits on a large serving platter. Rare roast gently weeps blood, which flows into the platter. A large fork is stuck into the middle of the roast, from which a single slice has been carved, and a large carving knife with ivory handle rests in the roast waiting to carve more. Another platter holds baked potatoes, baked with the roast they are covered in its juices, also carrots and celery. Another dish gently steaming holds some kind of yellowish creamed vegetable. A bottle of red wine breathes in expectation, each place setting sporting a wine glass waiting to be filled.
A man escorts a woman through an archway into the dining room. Tim is thirty-ish, with a square jaw, blond hair, a large powerfully developed frame; yet his eyes hold deep intelligence and he looks oddly gentle, a frailty about him suggesting a man used to holding himself back, well back. He wears dress slacks and a buttoned down shirt, workmanlike-hands and uncertain demeanor, clearly he’s dressed in his best and trying to please. His date, Sondra in a light blue ankle length summer dress with shoulder straps holding it up. Her collar length brown hair falls in lustrous silky waves, extremely pretty with big luminous gray eyes that seem to swirl with an inner light, drawing you in if you look too long. She is apparently younger than he is, perhaps mid-twenties, she looks around and smiles in delight at the set table.
Tim returned her smile happily. “Dinner is served.”
“Why Timothy, it’s lovely, you didn’t…”
Murmuring shush, he quickly cuts her off, pressing a finger to her lips, making her grin against his finger. She giggled, leaned in to kiss him gently; eventually, reluctantly, the kiss broke. Gallantly he led her to a seat; pulling it out for her he seats her like a gentleman as they smile at each other.
Wandering over to the glass doors Tim gave the setting sun an apprising look for a long moment, and then drew the curtains. He took a lighter from his pocket as he crossed back to the table, lighting the candles, abetting the chandelier lights to give the room a soft seductive lighting. Picking up the bottle of wine he raised it with a questioning eyebrow. Smiling Sondra nodded, and he poured her glass three quarters full. Smiling she picked up her glass sipping gently, she murmured in appreciation of his fine choice in wine as he poured his own glass.
A confession, “The guy at the store said this went well with rare roast.”
This makes her chuckle.
“You did say you like it rare the way I do?” he asked.
“I love it rare Tim, I told you the first time we ate together. You never did have to make such a big deal of it.”
“I just want you to enjoy your food, just cause I like it bloody doesn’t mean you have to eat it that way.”
“Yes, but I love it bloody, just like you my dear,” she replied gently.
They share a smile as he took up the large knife and fork. Slowly, he began carving thick slices of roast as she gave him a loving look.
“Tell me when,” he asked.
Grinning, she let him cut a few more slices before she stopped him with a smile. “When please honey.”
Smiling he transferred the slices to her plate, then leaned in to claim a reward. They kissed again, a little deeper this time.
“Would you like to serve yourself?” he asked.
“Yes thank you.”
Still standing at the head of the table, he began cutting himself some bloody roast as she used the fork beside her plate to begin serving herself carrots and potatoes, piling her plate full, clearly she was not a dainty eater.