Madness At Noon {COMPLETED}

Kiss and Make Up 1/3

Tick. Tick.

Tick. Tick.

10:01.

Such a wonderful time, is it not? Forward or backward it remains the same number, the same time. A palindrome.

Perfection.

The guest of honor would be arriving soon. Thousands of string lights sparkled like stars across the ceiling and along the walls, giving the illusion of twilight, while six space heaters kept the winter chill away. The floor had been scrubbed spotless and covered in rose petals; their sweet scent haunted the air. Garland had been hung from the rafters and the formal table had been set according to the most civilized standards: oyster fork, fish knife, dinner knife, napkin on top of the charger, salad fork, dinner fork, and fish fork along with the champagne flute, white wine glass, red wine glass, and water goblet all arranged in their proper place. Only the freshest cuts of white and red roses had been used to accent the gold tablecloth.

Who would ever believe just a few months ago this model of sophistication had been a ransacked, abandoned warehouse?

The guests had already taken their seats. I, their humble hostess, oversaw their comfort personally. We made small talk; I blushed as all my hard work was praised. "Your enjoyment is reward itself," I repeated, taking my bows.

The clock ticked in my mind. Any moment now... He would be here any moment...

We few humble do call, the invitation had read. Mistress Noon offers to provide the comfort, meal, and musical accompaniment and requests of you to bring the entertainment. Suit and tie required. The letters of gold on cream-colored parchment had been as pure as fresh ore pulled from the ground. In my own hand I wrote my personal greeting: Are we not drawn onward, we few, drawn onward to new era?

The time and date noted this day at precisely 11:11 post meridiem, a fine time for dinner and evening wine.

The clock ticked. Had an hour gone by already? Oh dear. I must check the menu once more. Today was such a big day. Surely he would not be late. Not this time.

I hated when he was late.

11:10 and the food was served. Eight waiters dressed in tightly pressed white and black uniforms, matching string ties, and black masks moved with rehearsed precision, bringing steaming plates to the waiting guests. I watched from my place under the balcony. From this spot alone I could see into the kitchen through the back door as well as the entire dining room area. A decorative mirror behind the magnificent mahogany chair placed for the guest of honor allowed me to see if anyone happened to be sneaking about up on the balcony.

One minute to go. Surely he would not be late.

That man, that special, special man, had touched me. So deep and private... Ah, the thought sends shivers down my spine and makes me all tingly inside. Really, a gentleman should know better. He touched me deep down inside... Down and down... Ah, ah, it had hurt. I cried out for the pain to stop but still he pushed in deeper and deeper...

The knife had missed my heart by seven point seven centimeters.

So he was a little flawed. I could easily fix that.

The guests were having a grand time. They stared at the colorfully portioned plates with hungry eyes. Only the finest foods flown in from all over the world would do for my dinner: lobsters plucked straight from the ocean only moments ago; the finest cuts of lamb, beef, and pork oozing with juices; a kaleidoscope of vegetables grilled, steamed, soaked in butter, and heaped into steaming piles alongside bowls of cool salads; loaves and rolls of bread fresh baked from Italy, still warm; and, of course, fruit pies bleeding with sticky sweetness, and chocolate cakes dipped in chocolate, with a chocolate glaze, and more chocolate drizzled on top.