Congrats to Pamela Miller once again!
When the lover of her dreams came into her life, Rosemary could not believe her good fortune.
Within a short while Anders had wooed her and brought her to his divine home tucked in the hills.
He was attentive and pampering; preparing baths of scented water and sweet smelling oils, massaging her all over until she purred with love and contentment.
Anders was a fine entertainer; a superb cook with a flare for the exotic.
Rosemary met his friends at their progressive dinner parties where they expressed their admiration for her, telling her how beautiful she was and complimenting Anders on his good fortune, until Rosemary would blush with a stir of discomfort.
She smiled as she watched them boyishly compete for the culinary prize of the month, comparing the food and flavours each produced.
Anders had been so much in charge of the pantry that Rosemary had left him to do what he did best.
‘Tonight, with your help, I’ll make a gourmet meal to die for,’ he whispered as his own cooking night neared, encouraging her to finish the last drops from the bottle of the finest French cognac, before leading her for the first time to the basement where he began to wind tendrils of nasturtiums into her hair.
Rosemary swayed, staring overawed at a large vat of aromatic chicken fat, sage and bouquet-garni simmering on a low hot plate.
Anders gently lifted her in his arms, and as the broth lapped around her head and body he quietly said, ‘All this meal needs for perfection is Rosemary.’