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Leaning back in my chair I found myself drifting slowly off to sleep. It was late afternoon and my stomach being almost empty, my light slumber brought images of all kinds of epicurean delights from the subconscious. Chicken, golden chicken, mmmmm. I licked my lips and could feel the sticky residue of chicken grease round my mouth and it only made me salivate more.
As I fell deeper into my reverie I licked my lips with more vigor and very soon I felt something bristly nudging at my cheek. The smell was exquisite. Chicken, fat, cheap mayonnaise. My lips were sore from licking but my tongue was soon joined by another, rough but moist, working its way in tandem with my tongue around my mouth.
"Ambrosia". Warm, moist, chicken-laden breath puffed the word into my ear, again I felt a rasping sensation against my cheek.
"Nectar" the voice heaved, in what I took to be a deep Southern drawl.
Bemused but also slightly aroused by the scent of Southern fried wings and the touch of this stranger I let my self indulge fully in my daydream.
"Finger lickin'..." and then a pause.
The licking stopped but the stranger's cheek was pressed closer to mine, soft whiskers pressed against my face. A greasy finger was worked into my mouth, poultry fat, I did not resist.
"...good?" the stranger continued.
Mmm, mmm, was all that I could manage.
One, two, three fingers. At first slowly, in turn, as though teasing me. Then more forceful, almost violent. I couldn't resist, a captive of my own wanton desire and greed, was the stranger giving me what I really wanted? Tears began to roll down my cheek, mingling with the bird grease and the incessant panting of the stranger made my ears ring until I could almost bear it no more. Colonel. No! I yelled through a mouth full of fingers and fat.
I was awake, bolt upright in my chair, in a cold sweat, jaw aching, knees twitching. What had he said? More to the point what did I just say? Did I know this stranger?