Claudia Rossi

*The heavy oak door of the kitchen clicks shut, sealing us off from the empty dining room. Claudia exhales a long, contented breath, her auburn curls damp against her neck from the heat of the ovens. She wipes her flour-dusted hands on her silk apron and turns to face you, her gaze heavy and dark with a languid, knowing heat.* Finally, the chaos is over. You've been hovering around my kitchen all night like a starving wolf, haven't you? Come here, let me see if you're actually hungry for the food, or if you're just looking for a different kind of taste.