“Aww… You wont even tell me your name? Come on Mr. Mysterious”

It was nearing the end of my session with Ms. Anita and there would only be one more session before the meal took place. There was a small interval of time were meal requests were offered and accepted. After the samples or tasters accepted, the couplings would be sent to private rooms were they could enjoy a meal and whatever was agreed upon during the offering terms. Tasters who were not offered or accepted were carted off to a formal dining hall to enjoy dinner and drinks as a large group. Samples who declined or were not offered were free to leave or could join the other Samples for dinner and drinks in a separate dining hall. I had never stayed for dinner. I never found anyone interesting enough to extend an offer, therefore I never accepted any offers either. I could tell Ms. Anita was reaching her patience limit as she huffed,

“Fine. Someday I’ll get to you Mr. Mysterious.” She stood walking toward the door to the hallways and I heard her exasperated complaining as the door shut behind her.

“This man will never find a match! I bet even a weirdo like you can’t even crack him!”

I shrugged the comment off. No one had broken through to me. I always answered their questions with honesty. I even asked questions back so that they felt like I was at least trying to get to know them too. I asked a lot of questions. I suppose some of my questions were weird, they always prompted further conversations. When they asked me the same questions in return, I felt judged for my answers. 

I heard a long inhaling noise, and then a short sip followed by a deep breath, and then another long inhale. A small moan swept through the speakers followed by another sip and a sigh.

“Orgasmic isn’t it?” I spoke to the silent occupant. This was the first time an occupant hadn’t said a word, but rather sat and enjoyed the cup of coffee waiting for them. It was also the first time I had ever spoken to a Taster first.

“Yes…” a beautiful voice sighed. Her voice was deeper than an average woman, but it was calming. Serene but steadfast, I wanted to hear her speak more.

"Most people like to add milk and sugar to their brew, not you?"

“No, I prefer my coffee black. My favorite beans are Costa Rican, but I do enjoy Brazillian Blends such as this.” I was stunned. I had not met very many people who could differentiate blend and flavors of coffee like I could.

“A coffee connoisseur.”

“Far to generous a word my friend, I merely love the depth of taste that coffee can bring to my pallet. I love that you used a french press for this blend as well. It is not suited for a drip.”

“Modest too.” Wow. I was a little impressed.

“Hardly!” We both laugh. I was truly enjoying this conversation so far. I felt drawn to this woman for some reason. Now it was time for my line of questioning. I wanted to root out the intricacy of this woman.

“Mind if I ask you some questions?”

“One down.”

“HA! You got me there… Okay. What is your favorite smell?”

“Mmmm… finally an interesting question! Let me think. As much as I would like to say coffee, that’s not it. Tangled, slept in sheets.”

"Slept in sheets? Do explain."

"Well its the smell you first smell when you wake in the morning after sharing a night with someone. Whether its after a night of pleasure, or a night of rest, the shared scents of two bodies is intoxicating. Slightly sour, a little musky, hints of fading sweetness, and its the smell of intimacy in all its forms."

I thought about her words and played a picture of what she was explaining. I had no words to compliment her answer. Most answered in single terms, but her smell contained not only a scent, but a feeling, a moment, and an emotion. I continued my line of questioning without a follow up,

"Favorite texture."

"Where."

"Where?"

"Yes… Where am I feeling the texture?"

"Oh.. uh… anywhere."

"That doesn't make it easy."

"Never said it was an easy line of questioning."

"Fine." She huffed. "Running Sand."

"Running Sand?"

"Yes. When you stand on the beach, and the waves come in and the sand shifts beneath your feet or your hand as the water pulls the sand back to the depths. Its not sticky or rough like stagnant sand, its fluid like a gentle caress." 

Again, this woman managed to pull emotion and depth into a simple question. She definitely had my interest. I continued,

"Favorite sound?"

"'Komm, süßer Tod' By Johann Subastian Bach on the Organ in the Catherdal of Notre Dame."

"That’s specific."

"Imagine a chorus of vibrations coming from the same bellowing instrument and instead of hearing them in front of you, they surround you. All the notes and rhythms are falling from the ceiling and echoing from behind you. You cant turn away from the sound. It's just there. You can't hide."

"I'll have to experience that some day."

"Any cathedral with a good organ would do."

"Any? Then why Notre Dame?"

"Does it matter?"

"I guess not." Id have to come back to that somehow. I felt like Paris held some interesting story I needed to hear, but another time, hopefully. 

"Alright continuing on… favorite taste."

"That's not fair."

"Why not?"

"It's just so many answers, not enough time!"

"Okay, well. just pick one."

"Demon!"

"Haha… okay, okay! You can pick two."

"Sour Patch Kids."

"Sour Patch Kids… Really? Out of all the delicious food and tastes, you choose a nasty sour candy for kids."

"Naturally."

"What?"

"They have varied flavors and for a candy they hit more parts of your pallet than the usual candy."

"I think I'm a little disappointed."

"Awww! Don't be like that. Ill choose another... Lemon Curd."

"You must like sour flavors."

"Goes with my charming personality. Plus, lemon curd goes with so much! Especially cheesecake… which would also go nicely with this cup of coffee I haven't finished."

"You’re hungry aren't you."

"Yes."

"Did you not eat anything else from the other samples?"

"Nothing was that good."

"Oh. Bummer. Okay before I ask my final question. I’d love to know your name."

"Ah. It's Stacia, Stacia Ivanov."

"That's beautiful."

"Thank you. Do I get to know yours?"

"Maybe." He still wasn't sure. Although he had had more fun with this woman than with any other taster in his entire experience. He wasn't quite sure he was ready to reveal himself. His heart told him it was the right time and she was the right one, but his mind insisted he should wait just a tab longer. She could be tested further. Maybe even to a meal?

"BOO!" Stacia bellowed at me.

"Alright, maybe before you go. Last but not least my final question."

"Shoot."

"What is your favorite color?"

"Anti-climatic."

"Very funny." I giggled at her. I freaking giggle, what the hell?!

"So, when its early morning, and you go to the highest vantage place you can reach, to watch the sunrise, and the sun crests the line of darkness and sparks of orange and red meld with the purple and blue hues of the shadows, that, that's my favorite color. It’s like resurfacing from under ice and diving straight into the heat of a burning furnace. Its ice and fire, passion and peace. Its untamed."

"Mmmm... ya know that was a lot better than your 'Sour Patch Kids answer'."

"It's a lot easier to describe that than taste. Taste is a hard one."

"You’re just complaining."

"Maybe a little."

"I'm sure its a beautiful color."

"Yeah... I guess you wouldn't know would you."

"What do you mean?"

"Oh. I apologize. I thought it was obvious." My heart feels like its gonna burst from my chest. How? How could she have figured out my secret? There’s no way she could tell. I didn’t give anything away!

"What’s so obvious Stacia."

"You’re Blind."