Scarlet Date Night 1, Part 1: Blasphemous Pizza

Scarlet

Well, none of that helped.

Scarlet spent most of the day in a brainstorming session with Dinah and Josie with nothing to show for it. Every idea was either something that felt inauthentic or, worse, something she already did while dating (and, therefore, made her too horny to make a plan around it). It certainly didn’t help that Josie was too down on herself to be much help.

She finds herself standing in the entryway, the door already locked behind her, unable to bring herself to move.

And then he comes to her. Slightly wavy red hair that goes almost to the base of the neck. Sky blue eyes that look sad, but determined. Button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled up half-way to his elbow, showing off some forearm muscle definition. Dark slacks. The only fashion faux pas is that he’s wearing cowboy boots, but at least the belt matches. All in all, a decent match for my older sister if she wasn’t already married to another guy.

“Hey, Scarlet, right?” he starts, “Before we begin this in earnest, do you mind if I ask you a few questions about the game? I don’t want to ruin whatever you have planned by talking about the nightmare interdimensional **** thing, but there are a couple of things that have eluded me in my isolation.”

“Isolation? Didn’t the old hag talk to you in private?”

“Nope. Just met a staff member this morning. Other than that and these dates, I’ve been completely alone.”

“Okay. That sucks. Ask away.”

“Thanks. Let’s go find a more comfortable place to talk. Come on in,” he leads her to the dining area, some glasses of water already laid out (again, avoiding the throne), “So, can you tell me what happened with Josie? She left without saying goodbye; I’m sure she had a good reason, but I need to know. Did she get the note I sent via the staff? The staff member that I met mentioned that the rules I was given are incomplete. Can you tell me what that grating voice did to me? I presume the hair is at least part of something, but I need to know what to expect. I was told there is some grand theory the show is built around, but there is no note of it in the rule book. I mean, some rules are very obviously different than in other seasons, but...”

“Wait, other seasons? Did you know about this game? Did you fucking volunteer for this?”

He looks genuinely taken aback, “No, not at all. They gave me access to their streaming service as a ‘source of entertainment’. I’ve been watching tape to try and make sense of the nonsensical. I can’t tell how badly the show is messing with my head, but I’m gleaning some ideas on how to navigate all of this.”

“Such as...”

“There is some multiversal nonsense going on here. Versions of me has been in dozens of seasons, some as a Master, some as a contestant. I hoping to avoid the mistakes the other Master ‘me’s made.”

“Tina and Skye said something like that after buying some books from another dimension. One of them was even in some stupid fantasy nerd language.”

He chuckles a little at that, “Oh, those fantasy nerd things actually exist. Just not where we are from.”

Remembering what Tina said when she described the librarian, Scarlet is **** to agree, “Fine. I guess I trust you. So, I can’t tell you all of the details with Josie. She didn’t feel like sharing. If I hazard a guess... Tina and I totally had third bridesmaid role-play sex last night.” Scarlet covers her mouth in shame.

“One, good for you two. Glad you found some comfort in all of this. Two, I guess a compulsion to keep some things secret means you can’t tell me. Just let her know that I’m sure I’ll understand why she did that when she can tell me.”

Wow. This guy actually does care about her. And isn’t making fun of me. Is he a cuck or a halfway decent person?

“I hope I can answer the rest of your questions,” and Scarlet begins to describe everything she can. Beckie’s grand theory (he gives that news a disturbed look that shifts to something like a resigned determination?). How the host changed the rules to let him protect the contestants (a look of relief). How the contestants have access to things to change him (curiosity?). How he has already been changed, partially by protecting Indigo (mildly disturbed, then more relief). How she has been changed (sadness). How she doesn’t have a plan for this date because she grew up too late and all of her adulting skills are locked away behind a several hundred thousand dollar debt now (more sadness). She starts to cry. He walks over and gives her a hug; she winces, expecting pain, but receives none.

“We’ll figure this out, together. Now, let’s put all of this ugliness behind us for now and try to have a good time.”

Josie

It’s been a long day. Josie tried to help Scarlet, but was just too filled with shame to do much good. Her stupid body keeps betraying her. She strips down to a pair of panties and flops, ventral side up, onto the too-small bed.

Dinah walks in a few minutes later with some more meat on sticks, “You should try to eat something before bed, Josie.”

“I’m fine, Mom,” Josie rolls her eyes, then thinks a bit, “No. Sorry. It’s just been a long, awful day. I’ll try.”

She sits back up and grabs a skewer. The meat is overcooked but Josie doesn’t care. She throws the now meatless stick into a bowl.

Dinah, ever the **** team Mom, notes, “There is a trash can right out there. Wait... Someone wrote something in the sand in this bowl.”

Fuck. “Like the one Indi showed us?”

Dinah reads the note out loud, “Tell the Master why you left early, you doofus. He’s worried about you.”

Josie sinks back into bed, “A project for tomorrow, then. I can trust Skye to deliver a note. Hopefully that’s enough to appease whatever did that to Indi.” She says that last bit a smidgen too loudly.

Dinah slips beside Josie, trying not to rub the gym girls abs. Dinah stares into Josie’s eyes and gives a weak smile, “Hopefully.”

In the middle of the night, however, Josie is startled awake by a sudden orgasm. Damn it, she curses as she sees the sleeping Dinah has wrapped an arm around Josie’s midsection, still rubbing her stomach gently, Can’t I go one night without this happening?

Josie: +2 VP (Contestant Brought her to Orgasm [Tummy Rubs])

Francis

“So, if I understand your transformation correctly, we just need to do something new. Let’s start with dinner. Tell me what you want and we’ll make it a version of it you’ve never tried to cook before together.”

The beautiful stranger has stopped crying, but still looks like she could at any moment. If they did that to me, I wouldn’t know what to do, either, he considers.

She finally speaks, “Pizza. Pizza makes anything better.”

“Have you ever made pizza from scratch before?”

She starts sobbing, “Yes.”

“Have you ever made keto pizza before?”

The tears dry up, replaced by a look of disgust, “Blasphemy. How dare someone take the carbs away from pizza.”

“You want me to eat ‘real’ pizza, you gotta have me do it during lunch. My gym diet requires me to eat keto for dinner. Carbs at night usually means I have a bad night’s sleep. Come on, it’ll be an experience.”

The girl grumbles, but follows. Francis pulls out ingredients: ground chicken, blocks of cheese, seasonings, an egg. He starts by plopping the ground chicken in a bowl. Then, he starts asking the girl questions. Every step she hasn’t done before, like grating the cheeses, he has her do; every step she has done, he does himself. He catches her turn red or gasp for a second occasionally when she watches, but nothing has triggered her transformation too much. Shredded cheeses, Italian seasoning, garlic powder, a cracked egg, and a little salt are soon added to the bowl and mixed. He turns the dough bowl out onto a parchment paper lined sheet, covers the ball with another piece of parchment paper, and rolls the dough out as thinly as he can. Into the oven it goes to par-bake.

“That does not look like pizza.”

“Familiar with par-baking?”

She moans a bit, “Yup. At some point.”

“Don’t worry about it. We’re just following the recipe.”

The two talk pizza while they wait. The girl was born and raised in New York City, so she has some opinions on pizza. Francis always leaned towards deep dish; he probably gained 10 pounds just from take-home frozen pizza when the brands got on that Detroit style pizza trend before he started working out. She gives him so much grief for eating “pizza flavored bread”. Soon enough, it’s time to work on the next steps.

“Ever make pesto?”

“That green goop from a jar? Nope. Why?” The girl gives him some side-eye.

“I have a mild food intolerance for tomatoes. I can eat a little bit of it, but it hurts my stomach enough that I avoid them when I can. Plus, it’s a chance to learn something new, right?”

Fresh basil, some garlic cloves, pine nuts, more cheese, and olive oil are soon in a food processor. Scarlet pulses it. Francis is kind of surprised she’s never used a food processor before. He pulls the crust out of the oven to let it rest before adding the toppings.

“At least it smells a bit like pizza.”

They talk “business” for a bit. That was a mistake. He suggests recording her advisor trying to **** her, she counters by noting that her advisor is the department rep for the Ethics committee. He talks about what to do once they are back to the real world, since school politics has crushed whatever love he had of teaching out of him and he simply can’t step back into a classroom.

“Sorry for ruining the mood,” he apologizes, spreading the pesto around on the crust.

“Don’t worry about it. You aren’t going to ruin it with pepperoni, are you?”

“Cheese pizza or die, I presume.” She just stares at him like that was the most absurd statement ever uttered on the face of the earth.

“Cheese pizza it is then.” He takes the remaining shredded cheese and covers the pesto with it. Back into the oven to broil. Soon enough, the pizza is done, rested a little more, sliced, and plated.

“It looks like pizza, at a distance,” the girl comments.

“Such high praise. Try it?” Francis responds, gingerly picking up a slice.

“It almost has an okay flop, but it’s too stiff to fold properly. Weird chicken crust is cooked all the way through,” she’s really evaluating this like it’s a bottle of wine or something. She takes a bite, “It’s surprisingly good, but it’s not pizza.”

“Pizza adjacent?” he suggests.

“Pizza adjacent,” she agrees.