He gave me a little smile and my heart spasmed. But I was thinking, ‘wait for it…’ knowing that the crazy or kinky or evil or a combo of any or all of the above would reveal itself sooner or later. It usually didn’t take long. The longer it took the more chances of it being brutal when it came.
“I like everything. What do you like?”
“I…” I swallowed and then stupidly I said, “Pasta.”
Damn, why did I give him a personal answer? I knew better than to give anyone ammo that could be used against me. I hadn’t had pasta in 2 years and the answer just slipped.
How could I let it slip?
“They don’t serve pasta?” He opened the menu and looked, “There’s a s**t load of pasta.”
I shook my head a little, “I’m not permitted pasta.” I stopped myself from ending with the ‘Sir’.
“Why not?” He c****d
