As always, Noah had prepared a marvelous dinner starting with an appetizer of artichoke soup with truffles and chives, and even though she was no longer trying to poke any bears, Joanna couldn’t contain her murmurs of pleasure as she consumed the scrumptious appetizer. After cleansing her palate with a sip of Pinot Gris, her bowl and glass were removed and replaced with new. The main course placed before her was roasted chicken with Cornish potatoes and the beverage to complement was a Sauvignon Blanc with a slightly fruity, yet dry finish. Again, everything was delicious, and Joanna couldn’t help but announce it. “God, this is good.”

Stopping mid-chew, Addison grew rigid even though she knew Joanna was speaking the truth. There had never been a meal prepared by Noah that hadn’t been excellent, but staring at the food remaining on her plate, Addison was surprised to see it almost gone. Visions far less than pure, brought on by the memory of a half-naked Joanna, had whirled about Addison’s mind throughout the entire meal, and the flavors of her food had been lost to the possibility of another flavor...a flavor far more pleasurable.

That thought, in and of itself, wasn’t a problem. Addison was a lesbian, after all, but the fact her fantasies for the past half hour had revolved solely around Joanna, irked the hell out of Addison. Picking up her wine, she emptied the glass in one swallow, and curbing her desire to smash the crystal against the wall, she safely returned her goblet to the table before getting to her feet. She felt the urge to run, to dash from the room and distance herself from Joanna, but fighting the impulse, Addison walked casually to the door. Escape was within her grasp.

“Aren’t you going to say anything about my new clothes?” Joanna said, standing up.

Addison stopped just short of the doors, and hanging her head, she closed her eyes as she struggled to gather her composure. Her mind and body were in a sparring match, pummeling her with indecision, and as each second passed, Addison’s indignation grew. Turning around, she gave Joanna a quick once over. “What would you like me to say?”

“I just wanted to make sure they were proper enough for you, or if you prefer, I could go shopping for some evening gowns?”

Slowly, Addison studied Joanna’s outfit again. “They call that a peasant skirt. Don’t they?”

“Yes, I think they do,” Joanna said, looking down at her clothes. “Why?”

“It suits you,” Addison said with a snort before she walked from the room.

***

September and October crept along, and due to Addison’s numerous business trips, Joanna ate with her father upstairs as much as she did with Addison in the dining room.