Charles, a Spanish/French mix

Dan looked up at the dark haired man and said, "Hi Charles."

"Hi, Dan," said Charles. He walked in and set some grocery bags on the table, then walked over to Anna and said, "Hello, lovely lady."

He leaned down and kissed Anna. It was just a quick peck on the lips to say hello, and Anna kissed him back before she realized what she was doing. This all felt so familiar, she couldn't help smiling. Plus, Dan's continued rubbing of her foot was putting her in a very relaxed mood.

Charles leaned over and petted the cat in Anna's lap. "Hello, Sputnik. I picked up some very fine cat food for you. I also got some pasta for us humans to have for dinner tonight! I think you're all going to love the sauce I'm going to make!"

Anna started to remember Charles. He was French and... something. Food was his thing, but not just food... somehow she remembered jokes about him be a master of... eating? But he wasn't fat or anything. He was actually in extremely good shape. So why did she associate him with eating?

Charles walked around in front of Anna on the couch. He dropped to his knees as Dan scooted over, taking Anna's foot with him and pulling her legs apart. Before Anna could think, Charles was between her legs, rubbing her thighs, his hands slowly creeping under her skirt.

"However, I don't have to start dinner yet. If you like, I could...?" He let the unfinished question hang in the air and looked up at Anna with a sly grin.

Anna realized/remembered that Charles' mother was Spanish. He wasn't a master of eating, he was a master of eating women out.