Who’s ready for more sexiness with Aiden and Jen?
Out for dinner it looks like they’re not going to make it all the way to coffee…
* * *
Retaking my seat I’m pleased to see the dessert menu at my place setting, but not so pleased to see the lack of wine; the still half full bottle having disappeared. Who said I was finished with that?
I sit and pick up the menu. Ah, choices, choices. How is a girl supposed to make up her mind when everything sounds so yummy?
Finally I decide on something I’ve never had before and always wondered what they were like. And the menu has me even more intrigued when I read that, apparently originating in Sicily they are, symbolic of Carnevale’s carnal and culinary debauchery; a time when masques were worn to hide revellers’ identities allowing them the freedom to do whatever was pleasurable. Well, food and sex have been intrinsically linked for eons.
As if on queue, Stefano appears at my side. “Have you decided madam?”
“Yes. I’ll have the pistachio cannoli please.”
He retrieves my menu, giving Aiden a small nod before he leaves.
What was all that about?
My question is answered when Stefano reappears with my cannoli and a small glass that he puts next to my plate. Thankfully this time we’re spared his pontificating on the merits of his choice of dessert wine.
I consider the cylinder shaped dessert on my plate. It definitely looks good enough to eat, which is the whole point, but how?
This cannot be done delicately. Hands it is then.
Aiden leans across the table just as I bite into the pastry shell.
“You know, the shape of cannoli are meant to represent an erect penis.”
He laughs as I swallow too quickly and end up a spluttering mess. The bastard. He timed that to perfection.
He stops laughing though, his jaw dropping when I look him square in the face and wink as I lick up a generous dollop of the sweet ricotta oozing from the end.
Yeah, two can play at that game, mate.
Aiden’s breathing is definitely ragged and he moans as I take another bite of the creamy confection and ‘mmm’ around my mouthful.
I hold his gaze as I swallow and slowly lick my lips. “Yummy.”
He stares at me across the table, a dangerously dark glint in his eyes. “Are you going to want coffee or shall we just go?”
I’m thinking he’s more than capable of keeping me up all night so who the hell needs coffee.
“No. And yes.”
* * *