Thanksgiving Seduction (Part 2 of 4) - "Hunger Season"

Adrian's seven-course seduction dinner delivers exactly what he promised - emotions crafted like cuisine, each dish making Nora fall deeper under his spell. From oysters laced with anticipation to chocolate infused with surrender, she experiences manufactured desire so intense it overrides her judgment. After a night that leaves her hollowed out and addicted, she returns to find James's simple breakfast and genuine concern. But the damage is done - she's craving Adrian's false emotions like a drug, and with a mysterious Thanksgiving feast approaching, she realizes she's being prepared for something darker than just seduction.

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Episode Transcript

Speaker 1 (00:03):
Calarogu Shark Media, Hello and welcome to Romance Weekly and
Thanksgiving Seduction. This is episode two Hunger Season.

Speaker 2 (00:43):
I changed my outfit four times before dinner with Adrian,
four times, like I was twenty two again instead of
thirty one, with a successful career and the ability to
taste lies in soup. But every time I close my eyes,
I could still taste his butternut squash soup on my tongue. Desire, need, hunger,
and my hands shook as I applied lipstick I'd never

(01:06):
worn before. Coming home. You look nice, Mum said from
my doorway, her voice carefully neutral, but I could taste
the worry in the air around her, bitter as burnt coffee.
It's just dinner. Professional curiosity, right, She watched me spray

(01:26):
perfume on my wrists. James asked about you at breakfast. James,
I'd been avoiding him all day, unable to face the
hurt I knew i'd taste in his presence This morning,
I'd snuck out early for a run, grabbed coffee from
the gas station instead of the inn's kitchen. Cowardly but necessary,

(01:49):
he made cinnamon rolls. Mum continued from scratch said, he
remembered you mentioning you loved them in some article. He'd
read my articles of corse. He had sweet Ernest James,
who cooked emotions I could trust, who looked at me
like I was something precious instead of something to be consumed.

(02:11):
I should go, I said, don't wait up. The walk
to Harvest took five minutes that felt like fifty. Main
Street was quiet, most shops closed for the evening, but
Adrian's restaurant glowed like a jewel box. Through the windows.
I could see empty tables with pristine white tablecloths, candles flickering.

(02:34):
He really had closed the entire restaurant just for me.
Adrian opened the door before I could knock. He wore
all black tonight, black chef's jacket, black pants, making his
blue eyes look impossibly bright. The smile he gave me
made my knees weak, which should have been my first warning.

(02:57):
I'm not the kind of woman whose knees go weak. Norah,
you look absolutely edible. The way he said edible made
heat pool in my belly. Or maybe that was just
residual effect from yesterday's soup. I couldn't tell anymore. Thank
you for closing the restaurant, I said, trying to sound professional.

(03:20):
That wasn't necessary, of course, it was. What I'm going
to feed you tonight requires complete attention, no distractions. He
led me through the empty dining room to a table
by the kitchen, passed through. I want you to watch
me cook. I want you to see everything that goes

(03:40):
into what you're about to experience. Experience, not eat. Eating
is just the physical act. What we're doing tonight is
far more intimate. He poured wine, something burgundy and complex
that tasted like autumn nights and secrets. I shouldn't have

(04:01):
been able to taste emotions in wine, but Adrian's touch
contaminated everything. Apparently before we begin, he said, settling across
from me with his own glass. Tell me, what did
you think of James's warning about me? I nearly choked
on my wine? How did you This is a small

(04:22):
town Norah. Plus, James isn't subtle about his dislike. He
leaned forward, candlelight playing across his features. Did he tell
you his theory that I'm adding something unnatural to my food?
Something like that? And what do you think? I think

(04:42):
you're doing something I've never encountered before whether it's wrong.
I took another sip of wine. I haven't decided yet,
honest I like that. He stood, fingers brushing my shoulder
as he passed. First course from the kitchen. He produced

(05:05):
two perfect oysters on a bed of ice. Tell me
what you taste. The first oyster was normal, briny, sweet, clean,
but the second anticipation flooded my system, not mine his.
I could taste Adrian's anticipation for tonight, for me, for

(05:27):
what was about to happen. It was like standing at
the edge of a cliff, that moment before jumping. You're
looking forward to this, I said, more than you know.
He was already back in the kitchen, visible through the
pass through. Second course seared foi gras with cherry reduction.

(05:48):
The fat melted on my tongue, coating it with richness
and something else, power, confidence, the feeling you get when
you know you're the best at something and you know
you can't fail. I straightened in my chair, chin lifting.
I can taste your arrogance, I said, He laughed, delighted.

(06:10):
Is it arrogance? If it's justified always, then I'm guilty.
Third course, lobster with brown butter and microgreens. Try this.
The lobster was perfect, sweet and tender, but the emotion
it carried made my breath catch. Fascination, deep scholarly interest,

(06:33):
like a scientist studying something rare, but underneath that possession,
the kind of fascination that wants to own, to keep,
to consume. You're studying me, I said, I've been studying
you since you walked into James's restaurant yesterday. He didn't
deny the possessiveness, your extraordinary Norah, do you know how

(06:58):
rare it is? What we can do? James can do
it too. Adrian's expression flickered with something I couldn't read.
James tastes that's all. He's a receptor passive. You and
I we're more. What does that mean? Fourth course duck breast,

(07:20):
sliced thin with pomegranate glaze. The first bite made me moan.
I couldn't help it. It tasted like being wanted, like
being the only person in someone's universe, like mattering more
than air or water or food itself. That's how you
make me feel, Adrian said, quietly, watching me from the kitchen,

(07:43):
like I've been starving my whole life and didn't know
it until yesterday. Fifth course risotto with black truffle, comfort
and luxury combined. But the emotion, God, the emotion, it
was desire, concentrated down to its sense. Not just sexual,
though that was there, making my thighs clench under the table.

(08:07):
This was desire for connection, for understanding, for someone who
could finally comprehend what it was like to taste the
world's feelings. We're the same, he said, coming around the counter,
now standing close enough that I could feel his heat.

(08:28):
You've been alone with this gift your whole life. Haven't
you lying about it, hiding it, pretending food just speaks
to you metaphorically? Yes, my voice came out, breathy. I
can teach you to do more than taste. His fingers
traced the back of my chair, not touching me, but

(08:50):
close enough that my skin prickled. I can show you
how to inject emotion, how to craft it, how to
make people feel what you want them to feel. That's wrong,
I wanted to say, manipulation, violation, but the words wouldn't
come because I was drowning in the emotions. He'd fed me.

(09:13):
Sixth course chocolate souffle with cardamom ice, cream. I knew
what would happen before I tasted it, knew he'd saved
the strongest for near the end. But I opened my
mouth anyway, let him feed me a spoonful like I
was helpless. Love not real love. I knew that even

(09:34):
as it flooded my system. This was love like a drug,
like a chemical reaction, like addiction masquerading as affection. But
my body didn't care about the distinction. Every cell lit
up with it oriented toward him, like he was gravity itself. Please,
I whispered, not sure if I was begging him to

(09:55):
stop or continue. Last course, he said, and his voice
was rough now but not here. He held out his hand.
I stared at it, knowing this was my last chance
to leave, to go back to the Inn, to James's
honest food and genuine concern to safety. I took Adrian's hand.

(10:20):
He led me upstairs to an apartment above the restaurant.
Everything was perfect, exposed brick, industrial fixtures, a kitchen that
belonged in a magazine. But I barely saw any of
it because he was kissing me, and his mouth tasted
like everything he'd fed me tonight concentrated into a single

(10:41):
point of contact. Can you taste it? He murmured against
my lips, how much I want you. I could, but
it was wrong, like looking at a photograph of an
emotion instead of the emotion itself. His desire exists, but
it was crafted, intentional, created for effect, rather than born

(11:07):
from genuine feeling. Something's not right, I managed to say,
even as my hands were pulling at his chef's jacket.
Sh He walked me backward toward the bedroom. The last
course will make everything clear. On his nightstand was a
single piece of chocolate on a silver plate, dark, glossy, perfect,

(11:31):
Eat it, he said, his hands framing my face. Trust me,
I did, God help me. I put that chocolate on
my tongue and let it melt. Surrender. That's what it
tasted like, complete and total surrender, the death of questions,

(11:51):
of doubt, of resistance. It tasted like letting go, like falling,
like grateful submission to something greater than myself. My knees buckled.
Adrian caught me, lowered me to his bed, and I
let him because the chocolate told me to. I let
him undress me because resistance had been melted out of

(12:13):
my system. I let him touch me. Taste me, take me,
because that's what surrender means. The sex was technically perfect.
Adrian knew exactly where to touch, how to move, what
would make me gasp, an arch and beg. But it
was like he was following a recipe. Add pressure here,

(12:36):
increased speed there, season with whispered endearments to taste. I
came because my body had no choice, because he'd fed
me the emotion of climax, along with everything else. But afterward,
lying in his bed with his arm draped possessively over
my waist, I felt empty, hollowed out, like I'd been

(12:58):
squeezed for juice and pulp and everything useful, leaving only
the rind. You're thinking too loud, Adrian said, against my shoulder,
What did you put in that food? Nothing but emotion,
pure concentrated emotion. Whose emotion? He was quiet for a moment.

(13:20):
Does it matter, Yes, mine, others emotions I've collected over
the years. He traced patterns on my bare skin. Think
of it as a library of feelings. I can check
out whichever ones I need. You're stealing people's emotions, borrowing, refining, improving.

(13:45):
His hand stilled. Are you angry? I should have been.
I knew I should have been, but the surrender chocolate
was still in my system, making everything feel distant and unimportant.
I don't know what I am anymore. You're mine, he said, simply.

(14:06):
That's all that matters. I dozed fitfully, dreams full of
kitchens and emotions that weren't my own. When I woke
at dawn, Adrian was already up, dressed perfect. I have
to prep for tonight's service, he said, barely looking at me.
You can see yourself out. The dismissal stung even through

(14:29):
the lingering surrender. I dressed in last night's clothes, shame
and confusion, fighting the artificial emotions still in my system. Adrian,
what am I to you? He finally looked at me,
and his expression was almost pitying. You're an experiment, norah

(14:50):
a successful one. I needed to know if someone with
your gift could be influenced as easily as normal people,
and more easily. Actually, you're so hungry for connection for
someone who understands it makes you vulnerable. He adjusted his cuffs,
casual as discussing the weather. We'll do this again soon.

(15:15):
Your body is already craving what I can give you,
he wasn't wrong. Even hurt and humiliated, I wanted him
to feed me more emotions, any emotions. The emptiness where
his manufactured feelings had been was unbearable. I left without
another word, walking through early morning Westbrook with sex hair

(15:38):
and the taste of false love still on my tongue.
The inn was just waking up when I arrived, and
the smell of fresh bread led me to the kitchen.

(15:59):
James was there alone, kneading dough with controlled violence. He
looked up when I entered, and his face went carefully blank. Coffee,
he offered, please. He poured me a cup, and I
could taste everything in it. His hurt deep and genuine,

(16:19):
his anger not at me, but at Adrian, his disappointment,
weary and unsurprised, and underneath it all concerned for me
that he was trying to suppress. I'm sorry, I said,
for what You're an adult. You can sleep with whoever
you want. James, he fed you emotion, didn't he James

(16:44):
wouldn't look at me. Made you feel things that weren't real.
How did you know? Because three months ago I ate
at Harvest one meal, and I was obsessed with him
for a week, thought I was in love and I'm
not even attracted to men. His hands stilled on the dough.

(17:05):
It wore off eventually, but the violation knowing someone made
me feel something that wasn't mine. I've been trying to
warn people, but no one listens. I'm listening now, are
you or are you already planning when you can go back?
I didn't answer, because we both knew the truth. I

(17:28):
was already craving another fix. James finally looked at me,
and the sadness in his eyes was devastating. He's preparing
you for something, Norah. I don't know what, but the
way he's feeding you specific emotions in a specific order,
it's like he's marinating you. That's ridiculous, is it? Think

(17:54):
about what you ate last night? Anticipation, confidence, fascination, want, desire, love, surrender.
He's building something in you, layer by layer, building what.
I don't know. But Thanksgiving is in two weeks and
everyone who's been eating regularly at Harvest has been invited

(18:16):
to a special dinner that night, a gratitude feast. He's
calling it. My blood chilled. How many people, forty maybe fifty,
All people who eat there obsessively now, all people whose
emotional signatures have been altered by his food. James's jaw tightened,

(18:37):
and now you I won't go I won't eat there again.
But even as I said it, I knew I was lying.
The craving was already building, the emptiness demanding to be filled.
Adrian had made me an addict in one night, and
we both knew it. I'll help you, James said, quietly,

(18:59):
you want, I'll cook for you, real food, with real emotions,
try to counteract whatever he's done. Why would you do
that after I because I know what it's like to
have your feelings hijacked, and because he turned back to

(19:19):
his dough kneeding steadier now because I care about you,
the real you, not the version he's creating. I wanted
to cry at his kindness, but I couldn't tell if
the urge was mine or left over from Adrian's emotional
cocktail Breakfast James offered nothing fancy, just eggs and toast,

(19:42):
real food, yes please. He cooked in silence while I
sat at the counter, shaking like an addict in withdrawal.
When he set the plate in front of me, I
nearly sobbed at the simplicity of it. Eggs that tasted
like comfort, toasts that tasted like stability. Nothing forced, nothing crafted,

(20:06):
just James's genuine desire to nourish me. Thank you, I whispered.
We'll get you through this, he said, But Norah, you
have to want to get better. You have to choose
what's real over what feels good. I nodded, mouthful of

(20:27):
honest food, but part of me was already counting the
hours until I could return to harvest, until Adrian would
feed me emotions that weren't mine but felt better than
anything real ever. Had two weeks until Thanksgiving, two weeks
to either break free or be fully seasoned for whatever

(20:47):
Adrian was really preparing. I didn't know if I was
strong enough to resist, but looking at James steadily cooking
real food with real feelings, I knew I had to
try it.