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She finished the last piece of lettuce and carried the bowl to the kitchen.

"You have some salad juice on you," she said.

She picked him up.

"The critical moment for you in my mouth will be in a day's time, as I said. This is just to clean you up now."

She put him into her mouth and slid him around on her tongue. Then she took him out, drank a glass of water, and put him back in her mouth. When she removed him a second time, he was perfectly clean.

"All this time you wanted to eat a Leprechaun. Now it looks like you'll be having a garden gnome instead."

She smiled.

"You're a very special boy," she said, and took him back to the couch, where she placed him in her lap and began reading a book. He watched her fingers turning pages, the times she looked up from the book, the times she licked her lips, and the softness of her neck.

"What have you been thinking about?" she asked at last.

"You. I thought of myself only as a lunch for you to enjoy eating. I kept all my attention on you, and watched everything about the lady who has become the ultimate destiny for me. I even thought of a poem:
            Her beauty, in full size, has greater appeal,

            Especially her tongue, since I'll be her next meal.

I know it's not quite right, because you'll have dinner and breakfast before you eat me. I'm too young to write a full proper poem like your boyfriend did."

 

She picked him up and held him to her cheek.

"Darling little boy, it's the most poetic verse I have ever heard in years of reading and teaching English," she said.

Then she sat down on the bed with a pen and paper and wrote. In a few minutes, she said, "I've been studying poetry more closely since my boyfriend left me the poem he’d written. So I’ve written you a poem too:


            Of you I need to make the most:

            Perhaps a salad, or a roast.

            With cream, you'd make a nice dessert,

            And gulping you down whole won't hurt.

 

            But when I lick you clean, I think

            I won't need any food or drink,

            Or other treats, like caviar.

            You'll taste delicious as you are.

 

            As surely as the sun will shine,

            Tomorrow, I shall come to dine,

            Without the need for spice or sauce;

            And you shall make a nice main course.

 

He heard the poem and said, "It's very good."

"I’m going to leave your dolls house bed on the dining table, when I go to bed tonight. When you wake up in the morning, you'll be able to imagine the final scenes in advance," she said.

She carried the tiny bed to the dining table.

“Sleep well, my dear little boy. It's been a privilege to meet you."

She left the room.

The enormity of what he’d exposed himself to began to register significantly on his mind. His beautiful teacher was going to swallow him like a piece of food, for that matter AS a piece of food. When school resumed, she would be continuing to teach all the other students, who would be none the wiser about what she had done. She may well stay there until she retired from teaching altogether, with him as part of her stomach from the next morning onwards.

He thought about it for a while, and then fell asleep.

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