Taste Buddies by Jennifer Anthony

Taste Buddies

by Jennifer Anthony

Kyoko and Nerissa walked home from dinner in Williamsburg’s Le Barricou, the site of their fourth date. Nerissa had tied her long hair up in a twist and she wore her tattered Converse sneakers instead of the rainbow-striped Chuck Taylors in which she’d bewitched Kyoko away from a table full of other beautiful women.

      Between Kyoko’s long hours at the firm, and Nerissa’s job waitressing and erratic gigs as a performance artist, it was hard to find time together. But both seemed equally committed to carving out time.

      Kyoko had heeded her friend’s warnings about dating bartenders and was determined to play it slow and safe. She was sure Nerissa had at least one, if not ten or more, others interested parties.  But now, on their fourth date, she wanted to invite Nerissa inside for just a quick cocktail. And then, since they lived in the same flat, Nerissa could go upstairs to her own apartment afterwards, which would alleviate any more pressure.

      Nerissa always knew exactly what to say, and how to say it. Kyoko wondered if this came from being a bartender, or just an innate quality that made her good at her work.

      Now, as Kyoko turned the key in her front door, Nerissa put one hand, palm up, to the door to secure it closed. “Those vegetable tartlets were delicious. But you know what’s even more savory? You – in that blue dress. So… Amelie. Like the restaurant. I’d like to pour some of that wine we had all over your body and just lick it off.”

      Nerissa flicked her ponytail away from where it lay across her chest, put her spare hand around Kyoko’s neck and pulled her in close for a kiss. It wasn’t their first kiss, but it felt like it. Today, Nerissa tasted like the crème brulee that the bartender’s lean body could afford to absorb.

      Kyoko tore herself away from Nerissa’s lips long enough to unlock the front door. She stole a glance at Mr. Flippers empty cage, relieved that it was Felicity’s turn to care for him and she didn’t have to worry about giving him his evening meal.

      Nerissa ripped Kyoko’s button-up shirt off Kyoko. She started to kiss her neck and make her way down, then stopped abruptly. “Do you have any whipped cream?” she asked. “I’d like to spread it all over you.”

      Kyoko laughed, assuming she was kidding. “Oh god, no. I have hardly any food here. I never cook.”

      “Nothing at all?” Nerissa said. She left Kyoko standing bare-chested and strode over to the small kitchen. She wrenched open the refrigerator door and stared into its stunningly shiny – and empty- interior. She began to open cabinet doors, one by one, and stopped finally when she came upon a jar of creamy peanut butter.

      “Ah-ha!” she said, wielding the discovery above her head.

      “Oh,” Kyoko said, with an awkward shrug. “That’s my ex’s. She loved peanut butter. But I’m allergic.”

      “Oh no,” Nerissa said. Pouting, she reached to put the jar away and continued rooting through the cupboards.

      “There’s really nothing there,” Kyoko said. “Trust me.”

      “You’re not kidding. Flour. Salt. Basil. How do you survive?”

      “Like I said, I never cook,” Kyoko said, smiling. But she realized Nerissa was no longer just pouting. She had both hands on her hips, half of her hair had fallen out of its makeshift bun, and she looked pissed.

      “Well, I can’t cook unless we’ve got some extra flavor,” Nerissa said.

      Kyoko strode over to where Nerissa stood and kissed her full on the mouth. “I’m not flavor enough?”

      Nerissa pushed her away. “I’m serious. Let’s go upstairs to my place.”

      “We went there last time,” Kyoko said. And then suddenly, things started to fall into place. On their last date they had returned from the waterfall exhibit to Nerissa’s apartment, where she had poured honey all over Kyoko’s body, with no regard for the sheets. On their second date at a fondue restaurant, Nerissa had dribbled the chocolate over Kyoko’s bare arms and licked it off each time the waiter left their table. And their first date, was, of course at Peep, where they had eaten continuously for two hours straight.

      “I get it,” Kyoko said. “You’re one of those people who likes to make their partner chubby.”

      Nerissa backed away. “Oh hell, no. I like my women super skinny. I just prefer when they have food all over them.”

      “I’ve heard of foot fetishes,” Kyoko said, chuckling. “But food fetishes?”

      Nerissa stared at her. “You see me laughing?”

      Kyoko frowned. This had turned very weird, very quickly. She was incredibly attracted to Nerissa, but she wasn’t sure she could afford their high-calorie dating. Especially since Nerissa seemed to also have a fetish for thin people.

      “Listen, I’m kind of tired,” Kyoko said. “You are more than welcome to stay here, but I’ve got wake up early so I should probably sleep in my own bed.”

      “You know what? I have to wake up early, too, so I should probably just go,” Nerissa said. On her way out the door, she gave Kyoko a light kiss on the forehead. “You’ve got some flavor. But you could be just a little – tastier.”

      Kyoko nodded obligingly, just to hasten the departure. She knew was the tastiest thing in town. Rarely bitter. Sometimes sour. But always salty. And always sweet.

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