Welcome to Thursday Taster!
Its been awhile since I've posted. But we will continue on with my serial killer's date...
I started the car and turned around to exit her street. It was hard to keep my eyes on the road, I wanted to stare at her instead. Half the time imagining her half naked, hanging in my basement, begging me to stop. From the angle that she was sitting, I had a nice view of her bare legs as I drove.
"So, where are we going?" She asked.
"I don't know. I figured somewhere in Manhattan. What are you in the mood for?"
"Hmmm...I don't know." She replied, thinking.
"We don't just have to do dinner, we could do something else, too." I said.
"Yeah, like what?" She asked sarcastically as she looked at me.
"That's not what I meant. I meant like a movie, or sports bar, or something."
"You so have a thing for doctors." I sarcastically added.
"Yes, because scrubs are so sexy." She joked.
"Oh, really? Too bad I'm not wearing mine."
"I don't sleep with doctors." she replied.
"They're too close to my line of work."
"As of today, you don't have a job." I reminded her as I smiled at her.
"Well, shit." She laughed.
I entered onto the Brooklyn Bridge and headed towards the city.
"So, what will it be tonight?"
"I agreed to dinner," she replied plainly, "anything after that is my own free will."
"Yes, because I twisted your arm into this." I retorted.
"You took the time out of your busy day to stitch up my arm, I felt obligated to repay you. Although, its probably the only reason you stitched up my arm."
"Maybe." I flashed her a big joking smile. She laughed and shook her head, looking out her window as the car came to a halt in the traffic.
"How is it doing?" I said seriously, reaching for her arm. She let me touch the bandage and slightly lift the gauze.
"Its sore. Very sore. But I'm ignoring it."
"Painkillers?" I asked as traffic began moving again.
"No. If I had done that, I would be completely loopy right now, which means this...thing... wouldn't work."
"You mean date?"
She blushed, "This date wouldn't work."
"Then we would have just gotten take out and chilled at your place. I would take care of you." I said as I touched her fingers of her left hand, slightly gripping them. I expected her to pull away, but she left them, our fingers lightly intertwining as I drove.
I headed up towards Hell's Kitchen to find a good restaurant that wasn't one I frequented. I didn't want anyone to recognize me and see me with this girl, in case she went missing.
"So, this is a date?" She said, breaking the silence.
"Well, I did ask you to dinner. So, yeah its a date. I mean I don't know you well enough yet to say we're just two friends having dinner. Maybe after tonight I will." I replied.
"I don't know you either. You could be some sort of serial killer." She joked.
I tried my best to let it not show that her comment bothered me. Truthfully, she had no clue about me, but part of me wanted to punch her in the face, pull her hair, and tie her hands together as she screamed.
I shook my head and laughed, "Do you have a thing for serial killers? Between that comment and about drugging the chocolate today."
"No, I just like messing with you." She smiled.
"Yeah, well, you're doing a pretty good job."
The other part of me liked how bold and fun she was.
"Did you tell anyone you were with me?" I joked, "You know, in case I turn out to be some kind of serial killer?"
"No. I think I can handle myself."
"You don't want to fuck me, I'll kill you." She added with sarcasm.
"Yeah, how is that?" I had to ask.
She stared at me for moment and then pulled away with slight sadness in her eyes.
"I don't know." She smiled.
"With what? Twenty cc's of sodium chloride?" I laughed.
"Yeah, exactly." She laughed back. "That shit burns when it goes through your veins."
I drove down a street lined with restaurants of all different kind of cuisine.
"Well, what should it be?" I asked, gesturing towards the restaurants as we drove slowly past.
I stopped in front of a really fancy restaurant, Per Se.
"How about that?" I pointed.
She looked, "That really fancy one?"
"Yeah. I told you we would have to go to a really fancy place earlier. I mean I'm not dressed for it either. We can crash it."
"Alright," she smiled, "let's do it."
With some Irish luck, I found a place to park which is impossible in Manhattan. I rushed over to her side of the car to open the door and help her out of the car.
"Thank you. Most wouldn't do that." She said.
"Yeah, well, I'm proud not to be an American male."
I offered her my arm, not sure she would take it. She smiled and wrapped her hand around my arm.
"Thanks." She said as we began to walk towards the restaurant.
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Knives & Blood,