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Bon fèt Thanksgiving

Okay looking back on all the Thanksgivings, I have spent around the globe, in someone’s kitchen, our in a hotel suite awaiting room service, or just me in a robe relaxing, well this will be my most memorable one, and I am not on call, this is the most blessed Thanksgiving to me.      
     
It started out with a beautiful conversation last night from Upper Eastside New York a sultry conversation in the wee hours to New Jersey.      
     
Intimate chats and phone conversations that would curl your toes outside of DUP.      
     
Therefore, we agreed to spend some time together on our first official Thanksgiving.      
     
I should have known better, when he asked to cook, and I am of my grann’s trait.      
     
My home, my kitchen      
     
My dishes consist of garden grown compounded herbs, spices, no GMOs, and no bioengineered food.      
     
Speaking off I will be writing a Straight Talk Live Journal on that very topic. As you noticed I slid that in to keep from writing about the inevitable, okay, here we go.      
     
My brownstone door chimes. I had just finished posting my poem Spiritual Justice (Part I), and I was already nervous, who believes in meeting anyone from online to reality.      
     
I grabbed my pepper spray, just in case, what, I ain’t lying. So, I walked down the steps, I was talking to my Bestie’s spouse, since she was still preparing her family meal and he is an attorney and the code word was’ not today’ meaning if something happened to me, he did it.      
     
I looked through my Ring Cam, and this person was looking around my street.      
     
I seen the back of his jacket, nice so far, then he turned around and rung my doorbell again.      
     
Oh my, I looked in the mirror behind my door, fluffed my curls and slowly opened the door.      
My eyes were mesmerized on his hair chin... he must have heard me say.. mm.      
     
He handed me a bottle of Chardonnay, he does not drink, I do. And I was not paying attention and the bottle slipped, landing on my threshold shattering.      
     
I told him not to worry about it. He stepped into my brownstones, first order of business, you have to remove your shoes, my eyes instantly enlarged because he has some big feet, very big feet. I do not know how true that is... but let’s say... when, or even if that time reveals itself, I would know pleasure beyond compare.      
     
He told me I could play some music while he finishes preparing all the ingredients he needed. He brought over this nice CD of a violinist music, it was so smooth to my ears, from my surrounding sound speakers.      
     
He was just smiling, we were both nervous, I know I was, until he pulled out the bag some Kraft shredded cheese, which I do not eat, milk, which I do not drink, and something that looks like a package dead bird, he said it was a Cornish hen.      
     
I did not want to hurt my King’s feelings, but I swore I told him I am a vegan, therefore, I told him since he was my guest, I will cook something from my kitchen, but he said he really had a taste for some home fries like his late mother used to make on the stove and drizzled cheese and onion underneath.      
     
A Scorpion man, my goodness, once their mind is set on something to their liking, I swear you have to chisel around their aura until you find that soft spot of compromise.      
     
It just felt good for a handsome man in reality to be in my kitchen, he was half tripping all over poor Rebel, who stayed with him foot-to-foot.      
       
And if you see his mouth moving, with salt and pepper chin hairs... I am sighing while writing.      
     
I made some cabbage, some battered shrimp, and he made the homemade fries and onions and drizzled it in cheese, it looked and smelled delicious, I sampled it coming out the cast iron skillet, it seems he can cook.      
     
We toasted to our new beginning with a glass of distilled water, He left my brownstone smiling and headed back to New Jersey to sit at his sister’s table.      
     
What a blessing and a new beginning... oh yes, my Scorpio King.
Written by SweetKittyCat5
Published | Edited 26th Nov 2023
Author's Note
I not really celebrate Thanksgiving, but the food and the company was worth the cooking.

SKC

I had to reedit this, sorry, my love..
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