Delicious

Delicious - Part I

Misophonia, the "hatred of sounds", is a form of diminished noise tolerance against certain sounds. One form of Misophonia is the sound intolerance to people who eat, intolerance against chewing, swallowing, smacking, belching, slurping and so on.

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People who eat their food noisily make me sick. I can't stand the sight and the sounds they make while eating. Loud chewing, smacking, slurping of liquids, licking lips smeared with food - it disgusts me. I can neither stand to see people eating, nor to endure the sounds of eating without becoming aggressive or having a desire to surrender. People who eat their food noisily make me sick.

There was a time when I did not give a damn about the sounds that eating people make. I did not mind. I had no problems eating with other people. Could watch others eating without having to clench my hands into fists.
Until two years ago ... Two years ago, I changed my job. I switched from a medium-sized company to a concern with open-plan offices. The next step on the career ladder, so to speak. And with this change came the misophonia. Triggered by a colleague who ate all, and I mean all, his meals at his desk.

(A/N: In my culture, it's common for people to eat in the canteen together. Eating at your workstation is not welcomed in many companies because it can lead to distraction or pollution.)

In the first few months, I had no problem with the eating colleague who was sitting across from me. But gradually, the long-term greasiness, the loud swallowing, the constant chewing, the milling noise of the teeth became a burden for me. I've focused more and more on the eating sounds than on my work. was distracted, disgusted, angry because it kept me from my work.
Over time, the hatred of these noises became bigger, less controllable. And then I reached my breaking point and all the pent-up hatred was discharged - verbally and unfortunately also in physical form. My fingerprints on my colleague's neck were still visible two weeks later. Of course, my behavior was unacceptable. I was advised to leave the company as soon as possible. Due to my otherwise excellent work, further measures were not taken.

Since then I avoid people who eat. At my new work, I have my own office. As chief engineer of the development team, I am entitled to this convenience. In the canteen, I always sit alone at a table with my face turned to the wall, so I do not have to see anyone eating, my ears covered with headphones that blaring loud music, to block the sounds of the food. My colleagues think my behavior is strange, I know that, but this is the only way I can survive lunchtime. Sometimes, depends on my schedule, I have my lunch in a nearby park. Again, with my ears covered by headphones and my gaze turned down. Food is just a necessity for me, not a pleasure.

As the chief engineer, I often have contact with customers. Normally, I can set my appointments in such a way that no lunch or dinner is involved. But this is not always successful, like today.

Together with my clients and two members of my team, I am sitting in a fancy restaurant to discuss our new project. For the others, the chance to enjoy a delicious dinner, for me a nightmare come true.

You can do it. You can block the sounds. White noise, white noise. Focus only on you. Just block it.
I try to fight the rising panic and aggression. Try to concentrate on my breathing. Breath in, breath out. Try to concentrate on the food in front of me. Try to suppress the others. Try to put me in a trance-like state. To survive this dinner unscathed.

"Would you be so kind as to give me the salt?" Suddenly one of my customers asks me. It would be rude if I ignore him, so I take my eyes off my plate and hand him the salt. I want to turn back to my food, withdraw into my bubble of patience, as my gaze lingers on him.

A young man, about my age, white shirt, dark red jacket, black silky hair, alabaster skin.
However, it is not the attractive exterior of the man that holds my gaze, no, it is the expression on his face.
In front of him is a plate with the specialty of the restaurant: Mussels with creamy white wine sauce served on a bed of tagliatelle.

His mouth is drawn to a small smile, his eyes, full of joyful expectation, covetously eyeball the plate before him. Almost tenderly he strokes the edge of his plate with his right index finger, then reaches for the cloth napkin and spreads it over his lap. He bends slightly over his plate, inhaling the smell of the mussel pasta, his eyes close, his mouth slightly open. A satisfied expression lies on his face.
In peace, he takes his cutlery. Wraps the first noodle with the creamy white sauce and some mussel meat around the fork and brings it to his mouth. His rose-colored plum lips enclose this first bite. Delightfully he closes his eyes, starts slowly to chew, enjoys the flavors on his tongue, swallows. "Mmmmh." A soft moan escapes his mouth.

I can't take my eyes off him. I watch his tongue lick over his lips to remove the remaining sauce. As if mesmerized, I stare at his mouth as he opens it for the next bite. He savors every single bite, enjoys it till the end. From time to time, I can catch a glimpse of his tongue licking over his lips. These lips - so soft, so full, so inviting, so perfect. And his little satisfied moans – like a promise for more.

Every now and then he reaches for his wineglass. He wets his lips with the liquid. At each sip, I gaze to his Adam's apple, following how it moves up and down.
I watch every movement of his hands - how they enclose the cutlery, how they lead the fork to his mouth, how his fingers roll the stem of the wine glass back and forth.

And again, I hear his enjoyable moans. Moans, I would like to hear in a different context ...

I completely forgot my surroundings, I do not perceive anything else. The food in front of me, my colleagues and customers I forgot them completely.

The act of eating has never felt so erotic before. The longer I watch him, the more he captivates me. Each licking sends small surges to my lower region. Every soft groan causes comforting shivers that run over my back. My breathing is hard, every cell of my body is aroused.

As he takes the last bite of pasta to his mouth, his gaze hits mine. Our eyes are intertwined, can't be unlocked. His lips enclose the offered delicacy. He enjoys the different flavors, swallows. A little bit of the creamy white sauce remains on his upper lip. Unconsciously, I lick my lip. He knots his thick, black eyebrows for a moment before letting his tongue appear and licking his upper lip. My breathing is halting, my pants suddenly seem too tight. Reflexively, I grab my tie to loosen it. The warmth in this restaurant seems unbearable to me. And our eyes are still intertwined. I blink, swallow hard.

The waiter who suddenly comes to his table to clear up the dishes interrupts our eye contact.
"Was everything to your satisfaction?" "Yes, thank you. It was delicious. My compliment to the kitchen."
His slightly raspy, but melodious voice surprises me at first. And yet I want more of it. More of him.

The loud hawking of my colleague brings me back to reality. Unnoticed by me, our dinner approached the end. Of course, it is up to me to pay the bill. When I want to turn my gaze again to the young man, he has disappeared. Damn it.

Before we leave the restaurant, I look around again. No trace of the young man. Disappointment is spreading in me.

- - - - - - TBC- - - - - -

Do you even want a second part? Or is it just me who wants to know if these moans were a promise for more?