Late Night at the Writers Workshop

Late Night at the Writers Workshop

By

Claude Truveau

Steamed Milk:

Isabella took the frothing cup that she had half filled with 2% milk and held it just below the steam wand. Her eyes locked with Sam and the two of them held the moment for just a few seconds. Sam reached for the knob and placed his hand firmly around the dial, and waited. Isabella slowly raised up the cup until it was just below the wand, and then the wand was immersed into the placid liquid. Sam turned the knob and the powerful steam erupted through the metal opening, quickly energizing and disrupting, as the milk began to roll and froth. Isabella rose and lowered the cup, never letting the wand escape, as Sam was frozen in place, staring into the eyes of Isabella.

1 hour earlier:

Sam found Isabella in the kitchen rummaging around and said hello. They knew each other, a little. They had just attended the Inferiority Complex of Poetry workshop, which focused on several varieties of Haiku. Most of the other attendees went back to their rooms as it was late. Sam had the idea of a snack and as it turned out, so did Isabella. There was an impressive Italian Espresso machine sitting on the countertop. Sam said, "would you like a decaf Americano?"

He made two and handed one over. They made small chit chat for a few minutes. Both aspiring writers, and both excited to be a part of the 3-day workshop. Sam, a widower and Isabella said she was "non-committal." Sam didn't know what that meant but let it go. They each had a few sips of their brews. It was late and Sam was pondering how to gracefully exit and get to bed. Isabella had other ideas. Isabella suggested a little game. Sam was intrigued and asked for the particulars. "You'll have to follow my lead." Sam nodded in agreement, thinking it would be less confrontational than saying goodnight.

"Look at my lips," Isabella commanded. "Don't take your eyes off of them." Sam complied and focused. Picking up her mug of coffee, Isabella put her lips to the edge, and began an engaged yet gentle assault of the rim, moving her lips over and into the mug, moving her lips together, sipping in some of the coffee, and repeating everything several times. Sam was mesmerized. "Your turn," she said. Isabella stared at Sam's lips. He began a slow and concentrated display of tongue and lips on the rim of his cup, licking at the side of the mug, and noisily slurping down a sip or two. "Excellent," Isabella stated. "That was very revealing." "Next batter, Isabella," she announced.

Isabella looked through the pantry and came back with a 3-pound mesh bag of fingerling potatoes. "Eyes on my chest," she directed. Sam complied. Isabella lowered the mesh bag to chest level, grabbed the center of the bag with both hands, and slowly ripped a gaping hole. Not one fingerling fell. Her movements and care were exceptional and impressive. Sam stood in awe.

Sam was up to the plate and he found a small but perfectly ripe navel orange. "Eyes on my mouth," he stated. To his experience so far, Isabella had a knack for paying great attention. Sam brought the stem side to his mouth. He swirled his tongue around the stem and using his teeth, bore a small break into the rind. The break, still attached, was paramount to his next move. Using an adept thumb and forefinger combination, Sam peeled off the rind in one long strand, one inch in diameter, until he reached the blossom end and the entirety of the fruit was free. He recreated the empty rind and put it back onto the counter. Then he placed the entire orange in his mouth, chewed and swallowed it, juice flowing out onto his chin and shirt. "You're up," he said.

Isabella paused. Purposefully or not, Sam would never know. Isabella took two fingerlings out of the opening in the mesh bag. "Watch my hand," she said. She toyed with the two potatoes, shifting them around her palm, pulling them together, grabbing one at a time with her index finger and thumb. For a bit of time, she held them with her hand closed around them and just stood there staring into the eyes of Sam. He continued to stare at her hand. Then, she brought the fingerlings to her lips and she softly kissed both of them, and then one at a time. Holding them to her mouth she smiled and almost put them inside her mouth, but something held her back. Perhaps it was that they hadn't been washed? She finished her turn by putting the two items back into the mesh bag, and putting the bag back into the pantry.

Sam was ready. He approached the fruit basket again and took out an ataulfo mango. Scouring for the knife block he pulled out a carving option and began to remove the yellow skin from the mango. As though fully trained and capable, Sam was determined and precise. He composted the skin into a bucket he found under the sink, and held the full of the yellow fruit in his hand. "Stare at my lips," he said. Sam brought the mango to his lips, and ravenously devoured the main pieces of mango surrounding the pit. He then held the mango pit above his head which was still full of flavorful mango flesh. "Concentrate," he asked of Isabella. Sam then slowly moved the pit to his mouth again and engulfed each side, one at a time, pulling the remaining flesh off the pit with his lips and tongue.

Isabella took her queue. "Watch my hands." She took the carving knife to the sink, rinsed it off and dried it with a wash towel which was hanging off of the oven door. Holding the knife in her left hand she took her right fingers and slowly ran them down and up the edge of the handle. The blade reflected the light above the island. She changed hands and did the same movement, her fingers soft and nurturing. In the end, she firmly gripped the entire handle with both hands six inches to her front side for two minutes.

Sam boldly asked for the knife back and Isabella handed it over to him. Sam found the block, reinserted the knife, and came back directly across from Isabella. They stood there and their eyes met once again. Sam had lost all track of time and forgot about heading back to his room for the night. Isabella, she had a roommate she didn't like. Sam went over to the refrigerator and brought out the 2%. Isabella grabbed the frothing cup. Sam pulled a shot and did a thorough tamping. The machine was hooked to a water line so his efforts were just about complete. Sam found a clean coffee mug, brought it to the machine, and pushed the button for a single shot of espresso. Living dangerously, he motioned to Isabella. She poured 4 ounces of milk into the stainless cup and brought it over to the steaming wand. Sam looked over at Isabella and said, "This party is just getting started, isn't it?"

Isabella smiled and laughed and replied, "If you turn that knob Sam, all bets are off."

The End