Date: Mon, 4 Dec 2023 00:15:03 +0000 (UTC) From: boy cute Subject: Benny the Matchmaker 11 "Benny the Matchmaker " Chapter 11 By Dylan Email: boy18cute@yahoo.com Patreon: https://www.patreon.com/Dylan_Boy18cute The following story is a work of erotic fiction. If you are under the age of 18 or if this type of fiction is prohibited in the location where you are reading this, do not read any further. All characters and names are creations of the author. Any resemblance to persons living or dead is purely coincidental. Please show your support for Nifty, a great organization that gives opportunities to all types of authors to express themselves. To find out how you can contribute, go to donate.nifty.org/donate.html Please send comments to boy18cute@yahoo.com and I will reply as soon as I can. Writing fiction is what I love and I welcome any and all comments. Writing is also work and takes quite a long time and some effort. If you like what you read and want me to go on, please consider to support my work by subscribing to Patreon: https://www.patreon.com/Dylan_Boy18cute All rights reserved. Copyright 2023 by Dylan "Benny the Matchmaker" was inspired by my good old friend Castleton during a chat we had. He told me to write a short and simple story and suggested to use my last encounter with a nice stranger as I was walking my dog in the park. For some time now I work together with my friend Andy, who tirelessly reads and edits my stories to make them as good as possible. This chapter I dedicate to you, Andy, as a huge 'Thank You my Friend!' Greets, Dylan Benny the Matchmaker -11- The maitre d' was already watching their table intently as Dylan opened the menu. Anyone who coincidentally caught sight of his face could see the very well hidden, covert smug look of the man. Ian, used to reading menus in fancy restaurants, did not realize that a problem had occurred, until Dylan gave him a frantic whisper: " I have no idea what this all means!" As Ian looked up, he saw a flushed boy, blushing frantically, his brow clearly showing pearls of sweat. " Oh my God, I'm sorry baby! Lemme help you!" Dylan's blush only deepened as he looked up and saw the waiter, standing next to Ian, with a tray with two tall glasses with a light red sparkling .... cocktail? Dylan just couldn't think, and just listened passively as the waiter addressed Ian, clearly recognizing him as the man who knew what he wanted. Dylan felt like a burden. He knew he stood out like a sore thumb, and he had to fight the impulse to jump up and run. He heard the waiter say: " With the compliments of the Chef" as he placed little plates in front of Ian and Dylan, together with the two glasses with the sparkling beverage. The waiter announced, his voice showing more than a little hint of superiority over the ' rich dummy' boy: "Avec les compliments du chef messieurs, deux Amusse Bouche avec un verre du Kir Royal." the condescending waiter announced to Ian and Dylan - and in a language Dylan had no idea about. "Bon Appetit messieurs". Ian gave the man a withering look with just the hint of polite recognition as he replied: "Thank you", clearly showing in his voice that he was not amused by the snotty behavior of the staff and their false french accents. Nevertheless, in a futile effort to try to show the waiter how truly important Dylan was to him he raised his glass: " A Toast, my Love! To the guest of honor of the King of Ras-al-Haroun" He paused , clearly for effect and for the benefit of the waiter who overheard the toast, before he sipped from his drink and made a little show of appreciation : " Very nice, try it. Kir Royal is a drink of champagne with just a little dash of blackcurrant" Ian checked out the 'Amusse Bouches', reading the menu and pointing at the respective little piece of culinary art. The first little 'Praline de Foie Gras avec un glacage de chocolate noir e reglisse' looked like a little piece of a light brown nougat with a mirror glaze of dark, rich chocolate. Dylan was wondering why someone would serve a piece of chocolate as a starter, but followed Ian's example and popped it in his mouth. Ian watched Dylan's face as he tasted the creamy sensation of a perfectly prepared goose liver, covered, following the latest fashion, with a mirror glaze of bitter chocolate with a hint of licorice. The face of the boy he loved turned green and Dylan looked like had been forced to eat dog turd covered in candy. He swallowed forcefully, and hastily took a huge slug of the Kir Royal to get rid of the foul and bitter taste. It was evident that Dylan hated the little 'gift'of the Chef. Still a little green , he looked at Ian, who had not showed any sign of disgust, but seemed to appreciate the little vile offering. " Did you really like that thing?" Dylan asked, his voice showing a level of distrust he had not even shown when Ian was preparing him for his brain surgery. " Well.... uhm ... actually..... " Ian tried to find the right words " actually .... it was.... interesting" He did not want to give Dylan the wrong impression. The boy was new to most of the flavors and ways of preparation he would see tonight, and Ian realized that he had to tread lightly and take care not to scare the boy. He pointed at another 'Amusse Bouche' on the table, and read: 'Verrine de Saumon' . Dylan saw a small glass, and Ian explained: " It's smoked salmon with creamed goat's cheese , scallions and herbs" This time Dylan was more hesitant. The first problem seemed to be which fork or spoon the dish needed, but he remembered 'Pretty Woman' and waited until Ian picked up a little silver spoon, just like the rest of the 'silverware' for real was made of solid and heavy silver, platted with gold. The 'Saumon', a word, as he remembered, meant the smoked Salmon, was covered in a creamy paste of cheese. Dylan tasted carefully, and this time the strong taste and the pungent smell of the goat cheese made him set the glass back. Ian commented: " They evidently used 'Selle sur Cher', 'la fromage du fermier', hand milked from only the oldest goats that have grazed on the banks of the Loire River, in the sahdows of Chateau Chenonceau, then matured for 14 days until finally rolled in the ash of specially burnt oak logs from Solonge" Ian watched the waiter's face as he gave Dylan the explanation, and he knew his subtle message had been heard. While he for real seemed to like the strong taste, Dylan was glad he did not swallow a full fork of this stuff. He did not look forward to the next piece on his plate. Ian read: ' Gougeres farcie' , those are the small balls you see here" , he pointed, " filled with creamed Roquefort and walnuts " Dylan immediately leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms in front of his chest. " No way, I'm sorry.... not that mildewed cheese, please no! Grandma likes it too. She cooks a sauce with it. The whole kitchen stinks when she does it, it's disgusting!" By now Dylan's reaction had drawn the attention of the Maitre . He approached, giving Ian a fake smile, ignoring Dylan like he would have ignored a spoiled little child. " Is everything all right, messieurs?" Ian could read Dylan's face clearly, and he just asked the Maitre to take the 'Amusse Bouche' away and serve the starters. The Maitre just looked at the waiter who took the nearly untouched plates with him, and while a second waiter served a new bottle of wine to go with the starter, Dylan seemed to shrink in his seat to hide from the stares other patrons gave him. The next course, Ian told the nervous boy, was going to be a cold dish of vegetables. " Voila, le 'Presse de Legumes d' Automne' et son chutney de coing" the waiter announced as he placed a tasty looking dish on front of first Ian, than Dylan. Another waiter, actually the Sommelier of the restaurant in person, presented the wine: "Cassagne-Montrachet -- "Morgeot" Domaine Louis Lequin 2014 : A great wine perfect to complement the delicious starter the gentleman chose for tonight' s dinner " He made a show of holding the cork out for Ian to take a look at and sniff, and then poured just a little sip to test the wine, again presenting it to Ian, completely ignoring Dylan. Dylan waited, looking patiently, but for real with a slowly increasing annoyance, before the little charade was finally played out and the Sommelier poured the wine. Ian raised his glass, looked Dylan in the eyes, and toasted silently. Both took a careful sip, and the heavy but dry wine was evidently perfect for Ian, but a little to much for Dylan, who set the glass down after the first taste. He took his time to watch Ian while his boyfriend took the silverware, again starting from the outside, working his way to the inside of the several knifes and forks. Without anybody interfering, Dylan tasted his vegetables. Yes, they were cold, and yes, they were soo 'al dente' as an Italian would have called it that he had to cut his carrots, but the taste was good, fresh and spicy. Dylan quietly ate his dish, asking himself why they could not have simply served a salad, but he didn't say anything. Ian picked up his somber mood, and tried his best to lighten it by doing much of the talking. The waiter took the empty plates away with him, and Ian told Dylan what was on the menu for the next course, after the waiter had announced he would be serving 'Le Plateau de Fruits de mer' next. The man had picked up on the surprised expression of Dylan as he took several pieces of silverware with him, replacing them with tools Dylan did not recognize. Dylan looked up questioningly, and even Ian seemed to silently debate the choice he had made, since he had recognized a lobster cracker and a lobster fork and realized that Dylan maybe had never seen something like that. He indicated silently, and the Maitre almost flew over to obey his guest's every whim, again completely ignoring Dylan. Zoned out by now, Dylan did not fully listen to the short conversation. He just heard several short " Non..Non, Monsieur, non pardon!" who seemed to politely refuse to fulfill the desires of his guest. Dylan caught a strict " Non, pardon, langoustine entière à éplucher " and saw Ian sigh. " Uhm ..what's up?" " I'm afraid they serve lobster the traditional way, one lobster for you, and one for me, and those tools are used to crack the shell open and eat the meat out of it." Ian answered, looking away. " Oh.... But ..... I never done this before!" Dylan's heart sank. His friend tried to reassure him: " It will be fun, you can eat with your hands!" But the words sounded wrong, and Dylan felt as if he was seen as a savage among civilized people. Ian could again clearly read the boy he loved, and his own heart sank . The Sommelier approached, again serving a fresh bottle of wine with the same little procedure, again ignoring Dylan, who now even more felt like the animal in the room. The man pompously announced " Un vin formidable, un Chablis Grand Cru -- Grenouilles, 2014, un véritable grand millésime bourguignon" Ian nodded at Dylan: " A wine from Burgundy!" The Sommelier suddenly spoke english as he started to say the wine would taste like honey and almonds and dried fruit, but also fresh and would complement the lobster perfectly. The deep yellowish color looked inviting, even for Dylan, and after the man was gone, Ian and he again took a little first sip to try it. This time even Dylan liked it, but a little red coloring to his cheeks showed Ian that the boy maybe should have stayed with the water and not with the wine. Dylan had told him sometime earlier that he usually never drank 'beer or such' and Ian assumed his choice of beverages was maybe a little overwhelming for his boyfriend. The lobster was served by two waiters, and the Maitre watched the procedure like a hawk ready to swoop down on its prey, standing where Dylan could clearly see him. Feeling just like at school , standing at the blackboard, while his teacher had given him a math problem he could not solve, Dylan started to sweat. The two waiters placed two huge silver trays in front of them, for now still covered by cloches, and as they opened them simultaneously, Dylan smelled a delicious scent of tomato, garlic, several herbs his Grandma used to cook her recipe of 'Sauce Bolognese', one of Dylan's favorite meals. The wonderful smell however was soon suppressed by notes of the sea, and even though Dylan liked fish, he was shocked to see the display of a lobster, arranged as if the animal would be ready to jump off the plate, surrounded by several different types of clams, small black ones and bigger yellowish white ones, all just slightly open as if they were laying in wait till a boys little fingers came near enough to snap them off. Dylan went pale, unnoticed by Ian who had just grabbed the Lobster cracker and told Dylan that he certainly would be handling this tool just as professionally as he usually handled his tools on a job. " Look, you grab it like a pipe!" Was the vain attempt to encourage the young plumber to overcome his fears. Ian grabbed and cracked the shell of the lobster like he was tackling an alien enemy, and Dylan nervously decided to follow his example. However, the lobster cracker was not as handy as his alligator wrench, and maybe Dylan's hands were wet with sweat, as the tool slipped and the boy was sprayed by the taste sauce and the juicy meat of the lobster. His shirt was stained, and Dylan jumped up, now loosing control over his feelings, not able to stand the stares of the Maitre'd and the merciful eyes of Ian anymore. He had made a fool of himself, in front of the man he loved most in the world, and his eyes filled with tears as he pushed the chair back so abruptly that it fell back and crashed to the floor. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Ian jump up, but he ran out blindly, not able to catch his breath. The Rolls-Royce was gone, but he actually was glad nobody waited for him. He did not turn around as he ran off, took a right to the waterfront and onto the beach, ripping his stained shirt off his body to hide the disaster. He lost his Gucci flip-Flops but did not stop, leaving them behind like Cinderella left her Glass Shoe. Soon the bright lights were behind him, and he slowed down, sobbing, his eyes wet from the tears he cried. He felt lost, humiliated, he knew he had shamed the man he loved and knew Ian would never want to see him again. He felt his knees buckle, and he blindly lay down in the sand, still sobbing inconsolable. Ian had shot a glance to the waiters and the Maitre that shut them down on the spot. He ran and tried to catch his beloved, but in vain. The younger man was much too quick, and he did not simply run for the parking lot, it seemed Dylan had planned to run and hide. Ian looked behind several cars, ran up to the highway, checked several darker areas to find Dylan who was maybe hiding from him. Suddenly a dark feeling hit him, and he turned around to check the beachfront. Dylan's shoes and his shirt were all that remained from the boy he loved. Clutching them tightly, Ian sank down to his knees, sobbing, trying to catch his breath while his world collapsed in ruins around him. Dylan was gone.... maybe forever, the dark waters washing away any traces.