"What?"
"I'll be discharging you tomorrow. After dinner."
She stared blankly at him. Dr. Lecter made a note to check her medication.
"Home? Medical school? You do remember your life before here, don't you?"
She blushed and looked down. "Well, yes. I do. But…"
But you have to think about it, with all the drugs in your system, he thought.
"But nothing. You're free to go. But there is one thing I would ask…"
"Ask what?"
"I should like you to dine with me."
"Isn't that what we're doing now?" she asked, not without reason.
"Not quite. You see, I am fond of finer dining than a simple meal prepared over a kitchen table."
She grinned at him. "You want a dinner date."
"I suppose so. Will you dine with me?"
She actually blushed. "Sure, OK."
Dr. Lecter raised an eyebrow in annoyance. "Do not say, 'Sure'."
She raised her palms in mock surrender. "Very well. I'd be honored, Dr. Lawson. Thank you so much."
"Better."
The next day passed much as its predecessors, until it was time for the afternoon hypnosis session. Dr. Lecter had decided to forgo it, since the post-hypnotic suggestions were as good as they were going to get. Instead, he gave her a few injections, which was normal. The contents were not. She would be able to speak and converse, but would be drugged enough that she would not realize what had happened or try to flee.
Once he had given her the new series of drugs, he offered her a large white dress box and a smaller box.
"They both should fit," he said, and then left the room to allow her to change in privacy. Erin pried open the larger box to discover a fine gown, made of cream-colored silk. It was strapless, simple, and quite elegant. Wrapped in tissue paper below it were appropriate undergarments. Under the influence of the drugs, it took her a while, but she managed to change into the dress. The smaller box contained simple white pumps, which she slipped on and immediately tottered in, as she rarely wore heels. The dress fell to her ankles, so she felt comfortable in it. She attempted to braid her hair, but found that her fingers would not work as dexterously as they had in the past. She settled for pinning it up.
A knock came at the door.
"Come in," she said.
Dr. Lecter entered, dressed in a simple tuxedo. He nodded elegantly at her.
"You look lovely," he said.
"Thank you. So do you," she said.
"Thank you," he echoed. He offered her his hand and helped her to her feet. He offered her his arm as he navigated her into the dining room. It was easily the most elegant room of the house. The table was built of oak. Silver candlesticks glittered in the center of the table. The head and foot of the table were set with the china Dr. Lecter had purchased. A Monet print hung on one wall.
They walked into the dining room together. Dr. Lecter took a moment to realize that the old habit of offering a woman his arm was necessary in this case: she was noticeably wobbly. Perhaps the shoes, more likely the drugs. A shame, he thought, perhaps he had misestimated the proper amounts. Still, she was reasonably coherent and would be able to provide dinner conversation.
He pulled out her chair for her and gestured for her to sit. She was elegant in the gown, he thought, even if she was drugged. Carefully he brought out the first course. It was a French onion soup, with gourmet cheese baked carefully atop the bowl. Erin tried it, complimented it, and ate enough of it to satisfy Dr. Lecter. He wanted her to save her appetite for the main course, anyway.
"You shouldn't have gone to all this effort," Erin said suddenly.
Dr. Lecter tilted his head curiously. "Whyever not? I wanted to."
"Well…I mean…," she made a balancing gesture with her hands as she groped for words.
"You've done everything. I feel like I should have done something to contribute too."
"Don't worry about that," Dr. Lecter said as he took her soup bowl. "Just enjoy the meal. I enjoy hospitality myself, you needn't feel selfish."
He went back into the kitchen, where he had the main course in a bowl on a serving cart he had found in the house. He rolled it into the dining room. The fragrant smell of cooked meat came from the silver bowl on his cart.
"That smells nice," Erin said pleasantly. "What is it?"
"Sautés reins," Dr. Lecter answered, smiling. "My own recipe."
"I'll be discharging you tomorrow. After dinner."
She stared blankly at him. Dr. Lecter made a note to check her medication.
"Home? Medical school? You do remember your life before here, don't you?"
She blushed and looked down. "Well, yes. I do. But…"
But you have to think about it, with all the drugs in your system, he thought.
"But nothing. You're free to go. But there is one thing I would ask…"
"Ask what?"
"I should like you to dine with me."
"Isn't that what we're doing now?" she asked, not without reason.
"Not quite. You see, I am fond of finer dining than a simple meal prepared over a kitchen table."
She grinned at him. "You want a dinner date."
"I suppose so. Will you dine with me?"
She actually blushed. "Sure, OK."
Dr. Lecter raised an eyebrow in annoyance. "Do not say, 'Sure'."
She raised her palms in mock surrender. "Very well. I'd be honored, Dr. Lawson. Thank you so much."
"Better."
The next day passed much as its predecessors, until it was time for the afternoon hypnosis session. Dr. Lecter had decided to forgo it, since the post-hypnotic suggestions were as good as they were going to get. Instead, he gave her a few injections, which was normal. The contents were not. She would be able to speak and converse, but would be drugged enough that she would not realize what had happened or try to flee.
Once he had given her the new series of drugs, he offered her a large white dress box and a smaller box.
"They both should fit," he said, and then left the room to allow her to change in privacy. Erin pried open the larger box to discover a fine gown, made of cream-colored silk. It was strapless, simple, and quite elegant. Wrapped in tissue paper below it were appropriate undergarments. Under the influence of the drugs, it took her a while, but she managed to change into the dress. The smaller box contained simple white pumps, which she slipped on and immediately tottered in, as she rarely wore heels. The dress fell to her ankles, so she felt comfortable in it. She attempted to braid her hair, but found that her fingers would not work as dexterously as they had in the past. She settled for pinning it up.
A knock came at the door.
"Come in," she said.
Dr. Lecter entered, dressed in a simple tuxedo. He nodded elegantly at her.
"You look lovely," he said.
"Thank you. So do you," she said.
"Thank you," he echoed. He offered her his hand and helped her to her feet. He offered her his arm as he navigated her into the dining room. It was easily the most elegant room of the house. The table was built of oak. Silver candlesticks glittered in the center of the table. The head and foot of the table were set with the china Dr. Lecter had purchased. A Monet print hung on one wall.
They walked into the dining room together. Dr. Lecter took a moment to realize that the old habit of offering a woman his arm was necessary in this case: she was noticeably wobbly. Perhaps the shoes, more likely the drugs. A shame, he thought, perhaps he had misestimated the proper amounts. Still, she was reasonably coherent and would be able to provide dinner conversation.
He pulled out her chair for her and gestured for her to sit. She was elegant in the gown, he thought, even if she was drugged. Carefully he brought out the first course. It was a French onion soup, with gourmet cheese baked carefully atop the bowl. Erin tried it, complimented it, and ate enough of it to satisfy Dr. Lecter. He wanted her to save her appetite for the main course, anyway.
"You shouldn't have gone to all this effort," Erin said suddenly.
Dr. Lecter tilted his head curiously. "Whyever not? I wanted to."
"Well…I mean…," she made a balancing gesture with her hands as she groped for words.
"You've done everything. I feel like I should have done something to contribute too."
"Don't worry about that," Dr. Lecter said as he took her soup bowl. "Just enjoy the meal. I enjoy hospitality myself, you needn't feel selfish."
He went back into the kitchen, where he had the main course in a bowl on a serving cart he had found in the house. He rolled it into the dining room. The fragrant smell of cooked meat came from the silver bowl on his cart.
"That smells nice," Erin said pleasantly. "What is it?"
"Sautés reins," Dr. Lecter answered, smiling. "My own recipe."
