Chapter 6: Restraint

                                    

                                          
If I'm going to successfully resist my carnivorous cravings, I need to get some actual meat in my belly. I start frying up one of the steaks I bought earlier, glancing furtively over my shoulder towards the couch in the other room. She hasn't budged an inch. I sigh, hunching my back, and direct my attention back to cooking. She'll never trust me again; she'll probably never face me by choice. 
Over the serenade of sizzling, I hear a high-pitched yelp. I spin around to behold Jackie sprinting for her life across the floor, followed by a harmless little fuzzy spider. I imagine the insect must be a lot more threatening to a person so small—and maybe even aggressive enough to bite her—so I hurry over and stomp on it. The vibration of my steps through the floorboards knocks the woman off her feet. She lands between my boots and doesn't get back up. I grow worried, so I crouch down to check on her. 
"Are you alright?" I ask. "Did that spider hurt you?" 
"I'm—I'm okay," she stammers faintly. "I d-don't want to stay under the c-couch anymore." She sits up, hugging her knees to her chest. To my surprise, rather than running away from me, she gazes up at me with relief. What she says next genuinely floors me. "I'll be okay with joining you for dinner now." 
This statement was the last possible outcome I expected, and I'm elated. "Wonderful," I declare. Before she can change her mind, I carefully corral her into my welcoming palm, stand up slowly, and chauffeur her to the dining room table. I take my steak out of the pan and slap it on a plate with a baked potato. I pour myself a glass of red wine, to maximize the sensuality and opulence of the meal, and set the table.  
I give the sweet girl a bit of my potato, and I'm heartened to see her bite into it this time. I pour sauce on my meat, wishing I could garnish it with an extra topping of live prey. My dinner guest pales when I pick up my serrated knife, but I pretend not to notice. I slice into the steak, revealing the rare red center as sanguine juices gush out onto the plate. 
"Listen..." Jackie brings up, breaking the tense silence between us. "I've been thinking..." 
"Hm?" As much as I'm focusing on absorbing the essence of my meal, I give her my full attention. 
She seems like she's having difficulty speaking with how her mouth flaps open and closed. I chew on my potato patiently, waiting for her to overcome her mental stumbling block. Finally, she forms words. "I've been trying to come up with a solution to our little predicament. And I think I have an idea." 
I'm intrigued, but she doesn't elaborate. I raise a brow, taking another bite of my potato, all while training a curious eye on her shivering form. She steels herself with a labored breath. "I was thinking... I was thinking maybe..."  
She's so adorable, struggling to be brave while so helpless and tiny. I love all the quirks of her diminutive features: the quivering of her pink lips, the twitching of her eyebrows, how her soft brown eyes search my face and hands and body, how her dainty hands compulsively smooth down the wrinkles of her clothes even while twisting the fabric to make new folds, how she shuffles from one foot to another in a nervous dance. She thaws the cold, rational beast within me and turns me into a puddle at her feet, despite lacking the strength to even wrestle my pinky finger into submission.  
What she says next completely derails my train of dulcet thoughts. "I'll let you eat me for dinner!" 
The bolus in my throat gets caught mid-swallow as my eyes bug out of my head. I choke and wheeze while pounding my chest to dislodge the obstruction, until I can finally wash it down with a big draught of wine. I cough roughly, processing what she said through my shock. "Are you serious?" 
Her face turns waxen with dread, and I can plainly tell she's not the most enthusiastic regarding her brilliant idea. "Well...I'm not willing right now to be swallowed again. So please—please don't do that. But I figure your cravings will only get worse the longer you try to hold them back. So maybe..." A violent tremor courses over her. "M-maybe if you just hold me in your mouth while you eat dinner, you can t-taste me, right? And you can pretend like you're swallowing me, when you consume the rest of your food?" She lets the question float for a moment before resuming, "this is the best compromise I could come up with. Nobody gets hurt, and you get... me. Just not inside your belly."