The lights flicked on. Apollo groaned at the sudden brightness after hours trapped in the dark kitchen. His neck ached. His hands and feet were stabbing expanses of pins and needles from the hours spent tied. He squinted blearily at the tall figure in the doorway.
"You should have known I'd have some precautions in place, intruder. I was once a top detective, after all! What's a little lawyer like you doing in my kitchen?" Angel Starr called out, amused. She surveyed the room: the toppled ingredient racks, her pots and pans in disarray. Apollo Justice, trussed up and writhing on the floor.
"Nothing! Nothing!" Apollo lied. "I took a wrong turn!"
"A wrong turn, through a maze of halls, into the back kitchens where I prepare my Lunchland boxes," Angel mused. "No, you must have really wanted something. Was it... my new and un-debuted Salmonella Surprise lunch box?" With a dramatic flourish, she produced a box filled with rice a radioactive neon-green, dotted with sickly red speckles.
"Why would you make such a thing?" Apollo sputtered. "I hope you meant Salmon Surprise!"
"Oh. My mistake." Angel crossed out Salmonella and wrote Sal Manella. "Doritos and Monster Energy sauce, the director's favorite."
Apollo shuddered. "That's even worse!"
Angel frowned down at Apollo. "He pays well for it, it's worth the time to make it custom. Regardless, now that my secret is out, I can't let you leave."
"No! Let me leave! I don't care about your lunch special, and I'm not going to tell anyone! Promise!" Apollo begged.
"Tsk. If you're not here for my secret recipe, what are you here for?"
"There's something else I want from you," Apollo said unwisely.
"Oh?" Angel looked delighted. Her eyes traveled over his bound form, gleaming with a mischievous sparkle.
Before Apollo's brain could work out the implications of his words, she was pulling up her skirt on one side, revealing a long, smooth thigh. "Gaack!" Apollo yelled. "Evidence! I meant evidence!"
"No need to be shy," Angel cooed. "You're not usually my type, but you're pretty cute." The dress went up over her head, revealing a tiny slip of underwear under sleek tights and a fitted push-up bra. Angel turned, showing off her hourglass figure. Apollo stared despite himself: this was more bared skin than he'd ever seen on a woman. His eyes roved over her chest, her stomach, and her thighs.
She came closer.
When Angel traced a delicate finger along his jaw and down his throat, all words flew out of Apollo's head. "Gaack?" He stammered.
Angel smirked. The fingers drifted lower, deftly unbuttoning his vest, and then his shirt. Her cool hands stroked his chest. A single finger drew down her neckline, revealing her skin coated in—
"Monster Energy sauce?" Apollo yelped in dismay.
"Didn't you come here for information? I'm giving you an insider taste," Angel purred. A finger poked at his open mouth, and the tangy flavor coated his tongue: a cloying mixture of salt, herbs, and tartness. Apollo gagged.
"Oh my, that's not to your taste, is it? Perhaps something a bit more spicy."
She was pulling down her leggings. The black satin underwear followed. "Miss Starr, that's really not necessary," Apollo babbled, mesmerized by her powerful thighs.
"Oh, you don't like what you see?" Angel flung her skirts aside.
"That's not it, you're very beautiful! I just want—"
"Yes, yes, you'll have what you want." Angel pushed her finger into Apollo's mouth, and he groaned, his tongue unwillingly lapping at the spiced liquid. "Why is it spicy?" he gasped.
"New flavor," she answered with a wink. "Still in development, and you're my first taste-tester!"
"Th—that's against industry regulations!"
"Big words from a little trespasser." Angel shrugged, unconcerned. Her hands wandered down to his belt and unfastened the buckle. She pulled down his pants, rumpled from hours of writhing. His boxers were damp and sweaty beneath; she tugged those down too, leaving them bunched around his knees.
Apollo's breath hitched in his chest.
"Does you like that?" Angel cooed. "You've never been touched by someone as beautiful as me before."
"Please, Miss Starr, I've been here for hours," Apollo protested feebly, using too many words and all the wrong ones.
"Shhh, have patience."
Shuddering, Apollo stopped himself, made himself lie still. He couldn't let it happen. "Unngh, Miss Starr, I'm going to..."
When warmth erupted from him, it wasn't come, but urine, streaking through the air and spattering onto his trousers, where they were bunched around his knees. Angel leaped aside with a surprised shriek, the stream just barely missing her. The pungent smell filled the air. Still tied and bound, Apollo turned his head away in shame, trying and failing to hide the hot tears leaking from his eyes.
"That's disappointing," Angel sighed. "I guess you're not up for what I have to serve. You could have just said so! Here, have this as an apology. This will be more your speed." She pushed a single bite of plain rice into Apollo's mouth. He chewed gratefully, too mortified to feel patronized. She was right: the rice was soothing and familiar. He swallowed.
At last, Angel cut the ropes free. "Oh, you may go," she added, waving a hand dismissively. "I'm not threatened by you in the least."
Apollo stood slowly on unsteady legs. He nodded, too ashamed to meet her eyes. "I—I'm sorry," he stammered. Angel was fetching a towel and a bottle of disinfectant; she didn't spare him another glance. His trousers clung to his legs, wet and horrifyingly warm, with a smell that made his nose sting. He gathered his things and fled, his investigation forgotten.
