In the few months that we’d been an official couple, I’d yet to meet any of Cordelia’s friends or visit her apartment. The Dark Elf was particularly prickly and once served as a shrewd rumor broker amidst the political minefield of Underdark society. In the modern world, her antics had been anything but endearing to anyone with half a mind to ignore her, relegated to work as a customer support specialist at a middling paper company. She was a wily, neurotic creature I narrowly kept in line by exploiting her rather sensitive sweet tooth. After weeks of pestering and various sexual favors, Cordelia bent the knee. We'd be having dinner at her place and with a long time friend, no less.
During the train ride to her apartment, Cordelia was uncharacteristically nervous. Her mask of bravado was slipping, replaced suddenly by what looked like genuine concern, “Your human courtship rituals mystify me to no small end. As my conquest, I find it difficult to believe you would be the one to meet another in a place of residence. Should not the woman acclimate herself to her newly claimed territory? Your home is mine, not vice versa.” Her ears twitched, peeking out from a nest of platinum.
I smiled and shook my head, “She’s your friend and I haven’t visited your place yet; I think it’s time. Plus, haven’t you heard of the Men’s Right Movement? We do things a little differently here.”
The joke flew far above Cordelia’s silver-maned head, “Yes, yes, Naz'Kallanth had its fair share of ‘Men’s Rights Movements’. We simply called them rebellions.”
***
The ride was uneventful, save for the fact that Cordelia was insistent on holding hands, her slender fingers entwining with mine, occasionally plating along the ridge of my the knuckles. A simple yet rare gesture.
“This is your place?” As we worked the same middling corporate job, the banality of Cordelia’s apartment building should’ve been no small surprise, yet I was caught off guard. We were in a fairly modern building, with a few plants dotting the hallway and a clean if somewhat aged lobby. I'd expected a bit more.
“Forgive my squalor, human, but your realm offers little in the way of a living wage.” The ironic humor of a former slaver complaining about fair pay was not lost upon me. We walked on until we reached her door, Cordelia turning on her heel before shooting me a red-eyed glare that demanded my attention and pleaded for leniency. “You will represent me well. Should I be humiliated by your barbarism, I will have you castrated and fed to the local fauna. Am I clear, human? No jokes. No gaffs. And most importantly, you are not to mock her for her race. Kumo was my chief apothecary and a darling friend. Now, we will prepare for her arrival with haste and,” Cordelia lowered her gaze and bit her lip, “forgive my meager accommodations, I only took as much as I could carry from my homeland. The furnishings are…modest at best.”
“Delia, open the door.”
With a sigh, she relented, opening the door to a world much unlike my own. Im stark contrast to her unassuming apartment building, Cordelia’s home was a portal to a subterranean dreamscape of bioluminescent fungi and stone. A thick, dark carpet was plastered against the walls, a variety of glowing flora clinging to its surface. Various stalactites, stalagmites, and other natural features jutted out from the ceiling, floor, and even the walls. Cordelia had managed to carve out a modest living space within the recesses of the room. Her kitchen was well stocked with a wide variety of herbs and vegetables. Her living room was filled with a wide assortment of books and various tomes. I could only imagine her bedroom, which would undoubtedly be filled with her more sordid trinkets.
Cordelia cleared her throat, snapping me out of my wonderment.
I was awash in a sea of colors, with green and purple being the dominant hues, “Um, Delia?”
“It’s nothing, collect yourself.”
Then came the scattering, a soft pitter patter against stone that emanated from the heart of the kitchen. “Oh, you’re here early! I meant to surprise you!”
“Your friend is here?”
Cordelia’s flat affect shifted to one of embarrassment, “Oh, she has a key!”
A young Drider emerged from the kitchen, her black, segmented legs clicking against the floor. She wore a tight, pink and white apron and beneath that a droopy knitted sweater that hung limply from a slender frame. Her face was angular, her eyes a soft shade of orange. She was human from the waist up and very cute, possessing an innocent beauty that lulled all apprehension regarding her arachnid extremities; long brown hair, small breasts, a narrow waist. She smiled to reveal her fangs and pointed teeth, the sharp tips protruding from plush lips.
“Sorry, Delia-dear!”
“Delia-dear?” I whispered amusedly, much to Cordelia’s disdain.
“Is this your male mate-friend?” Her smile widened, a thin line of drool forming at the corner of her mouth.
Cordelia coughed, cheeks flushed with embarrassment, the tips of her ears burning scarlet, “Kumo, this is the human. I will allow him the honor of making the introductions himself. You know how I loathe them. This is Kumo, my chief apothecary back home and one of my closest confidants and compatriots. I trust that you will make an excellent first impression.”
Kumo was anything but rude, much unlike my Delia, her smile unwavering.
She held out a manicured hand, her fingers very much human and quite dainty. She spoke with a light accent, the words rolling smoothly off her tongue, her voice airy, feminine, and friendly.
I reached for her hand, but Cordelia quickly stepped between us, placing her hand atop of mine, her fingers wrapping around mine.
She looked over her shoulder, the scowl upon her face quite obvious, though it was softened by the faint smile gracing her features, her red eyes bright. “So, you’ve been busy.”
“Ah yes, the culinary things!”
Yes, food.
***
Kumo had been readily at work, using all eight limbs to prepare a rather grandiose meal. She seemed to be very much at ease, working in perfect harmony with her extra limbs. She was a very fast, very efficient worker. I had a sneaking suspicion that it was a learned trait, no doubt an effort to survive in the cutthroat world of Underdark economics.
I offered her my help, but Kumo was a very particular cook. She shooed us out of the kitchen, telling us to relax in the dining room while she finished preparations.
Cordelia and I took a seat, the elf pouring us both a glass of wine before lighting a nearby candelabra.
She smiled faintly, her ruby eyes aglow, her skin luminous. Cordelia‘s features were softer here, far more relaxed than I was used to; barring our suger-fueled romps. Her home was a safe haven to the crushing mediocrity of the modern world, a reminder of a once distinguished life amongst the upper echelon of Underdark politics.
With her time in the kitchen complete, Kumo whisked into the living room with platters of steaming delicacies. She was a blur of legs, arms, and deft hands. Before we could react, the table was set, and we were treated to a fine spread.
“Splendid. Many thanks, dear.” Cordelia leaned back, undoing the first few buttons of her blouse and settling into crystalline throne that headed her dining table.
Kumo bowed low, her smile never faltering, her fangs flashing. She sat down, the chair groaning beneath her weight, and joined us, the three of us forming a triad.
“So, when did you two meet?” I asked, rather curious about both Cordelia and Kumo’s time together before the Conjunction.
Kumo hummed, the tip of her index finger pressed against her bottom lip, “I was very young, a few years past my second molt. It was after I had finished my apprenticeship. I had always admired Cordelia, but I knew it was a silly dream to work alongside her.”
“She’s being coy, human, Kumo produced a wide range of potions, salves, tonics, and poisons, a veritable cornucopia of chemical remedies. She was an invaluable asset. Even her fellow apothecaries were envious of her talents.” Cordelia’s smile widened between a sip of wine, “Tell me, what was the first toxin you ever synthesized for me?”
The Drider giggled, covering her face with both hands as she spoke, her cheeks bright red.
Cordelia leaned over the table, whispering conspiratorially, a wide grin upon her face, a mischievous glint in her eyes, and a roguish tone to her voice, something that I hadn't seen or heard before. It was good to see her so cordial, though I was beginning to worry if the more devious side of the Dark Elf was begging to resurface.
As the evening wore on, we shared stories and laughed together, Kumo regaling me with tales of Cordelia from a time long since past. They were both so pleasant that I forget we were discussing grand conspiracy, blackmail and the murders of dozens of political rivals.
As dinner wore on, the Drider decided to make her announcement, “Feast-time is not feast-time without your favorite of confection-things, Delia-dear! I shall get it from the oven.”
Cordelia’s ears flicked at the air, pupils dilating in anticipatory delight and barely subdued anxiety, “Kumo, darling, I don’t think that will be necessary. I have not partaken in a long while and the sweets of this world are far too satiating as is.”
Cordelia turning down a treat? Unheard of.
“What’s this special dish,” I asked, consumed with intrigue about a dish that even Cordelia had pleaded to resist, “I had no idea that you liked anything more than the sweet stuff, Delia.”
Her expression darkened, the elf grumbling with discontent. The change was a subtle one, her face hardening, her jaw tensing. “You have humbled me in the past, human, brought me low with mere ‘honeybuns’…but…you are not prepared…” Cordelia swallowed thickly, her tongue darting out to wet her lips.
I couldn’t help myself, chuckling at the sight of the proud and haughty Dark Elf reduced to a nervous wreck.
Kumo reappeared in the doorway, a plate of fresh baked cookies and an expectant smile upon her face. She sat the plate in front of us and clasped her hands together, awaiting our reactions. They were nothing special at first glance. Chocolate chips, nothing more.
Cordelia closed her eyes and let out a long, ragged sigh, her shoulders sagging with defeat.
“You’re kidding, Delia.”
Kumo nodded for me to partake, much to Cordelia’s dismay. “Slave, do not—“
“What’s the harm?” I gingery pinched up a cookie and took a sizable bite, the chocolate chips still warm and the dough perfectly moist.
It was not a regular cookie.
Not by a long shot.
There were no words to describe the sensation, the flavor, the texture, the very essence of the cookie. A single bite felt like a hundred, the flavor so overwhelming. I could taste everything and nothing. My nerves were set aflame, vision blurring as my head swam. A fire ignited in the pit of my stomach. The cookie melted in my mouth, and I was left gasping for breath, my entire body tingling. It was synaptic electricity running wild inside every cell within its reach, sending waves through each nerve fiber until they reached their zenith then crashing violently onto distant shores where there seemed only darkness beyond those stars twinkles
“Oh, Kumo. Why, my darling…” Cordelia was shaking, her breathing coming in short, rapid sighs. A victim to even my pathetic attempts at baiting her — knockoff snickers, star-pops and the cheapest of glazed donuts — Cordelia’s will was a flickering ember amidst a raging storm.
The Drider was all smiles, clapping her hands and rubbing her legs together excitedly. “In this world, I am a chemical-engineer-woman. Very exciting! Back home, I had many titles: Chief-Apothecary, the Mistress-of-Poison, Delia-dear's friend-woman, and her most favorite, confection-maker. Delia-dear and I shared everything,” Kumo approached from behind, her soft, human hands gliding across the top of my scalp, “Everything.”
“Mmm, Kumo, my human is fragile. I do not know if he is ready.” Cordelia’s protest was a testament to her will, though it was half-hearted at best. I knew all too well of the sexual appetite that proceeded the Dark Elf’s sweet tooth but now I understood it in the most intimate of ways; trapped in a spider’s web.