A lovely author who drops in every now and then reminded me I hadn’t blogged all February, so before the month is out, I shall do so!
This one is for you, John Malone. A micro-fiction … a little dabble in going French. 🙂
Sally Parker hummed as she added an exact measure of yellow wine to the pan, and refilled her glass. Now all the dish needed was a handful of finely ground parsley and a dash of ground pepper.
She adjusted the corset restricting her breast, took a much needed deep breath and fluffed out the tiny, French maid skirt she wore. She’d still have time to slip into her stilettos – the shiny red ones this time. And slide on her Luscious Pomegranate lipstick, before her husband got home.
Would it work tonight? The Nursie-Nursie Night hadn’t and the Naughty Schoolgirl Night was a total flop. Going French was her last option … she was running out of costumes.
The dish hadn’t been difficult … she’d even found the ingredients in the bottom of the fridge. The recipe she’d found on the internet. Les Cuisses de Grenouilles au Vin. Even its name as she rolled it around her mouth with a French accent sounded delicious, and exciting. Peter was in for a treat in more ways than one. It might even take his mind off work.
Sally sighed. Not likely, but then again, not everyone was lucky enough to be married to an award-winning scientist on the verge of discovering … something or other. If only he was more aware of life going on around him.
She sprinkled the parsley over the creamy white sauce in the pan and breathed its subtle aroma. Maybe she should taste it. Just one little piece of the delicate white meat. She lifted a portion, put it in her mouth and swallowed. Mmmm, so tender she didn’t even need to chew.
The back door opened and her husband strode into the kitchen, his coat reeking of formaldehyde.
Sally wrinkled her pert nose as she kissed his lips. ‘You are hungry, mon cheri?’ Who could resist a bit of French?
Peter turned to the fridge and opened it. ‘Sorry, I have to get back to work. I’d left something at home … a packet wrapped in red tape.’
‘Qui, such pretty coloured frogs.’
‘How did you know that?’
She pointed to the pan on the stove. ‘Les Cuisses de Grenouilles au Vin. Frog Legs with wine. I sautéed their thighs in yellow wine like the recipe said.’
‘Holy crap! They were Poison Arrow Frogs.’ He sighed in relief. ‘Thank God, we didn’t eat any.’
© Sheryl C Gwyther 2010