((That's awful, SweetE.... Oh, I wish I could make you some special hot chocolate and cookies, something to keep you warm... I can't imagine how terrible that must be.))<br/><br/>Celia's eyes narrowed pleasurably. Ah, this little creature!- eyes shut tight and purring like a newborn kitten! His visible pleasure whet her own appetite to a point where she, in her weakened state, could do nothing to stop herself- her tact could endure no longer.<br/><br/>"No need to bother, my dear," she hissed, tongue flickering. "I'm afraid I've had quite enough of that already. It's time for a bit of, say, textural variety, hm?"<br/><br/>And suddenly, gently, not wanting to bruise him up too badly, she shifted her coils and began to yank his feet from under the table, sliding him awkwardly out of his seat and dragging him across the floor as she jerked him up onto the table, her white body throbbing with a reverberating hiss. Her movements were slow, clumsy and crude- the plates and glasses crashed to the floor- an uneaten olive rolled from the dregs of a forgotten vodka glass. As Terry became the next course spread across the table, his arm or shoulder- something- caught the honey pot from his own meal and overturned it-the amber sweetness oozing out across the table and matting itself on Terry's back and hair as he was dragged through it.<br/><br/>Celia secured him with another coil, pinning him. Then her musing, deceptively friendly-looking face swayed over him, inspecting him, tongue flicking hungrily.<br/><br/>Her mouth gaped open and shut, her eyes narrowing in pleasurable suffering, starving, wanting, oh- so- badly- breathing in, tasting just whiffs of him on the air. Her throat stretched, dragging at the air.<br/><br/>Her coils moved up his legs, exposing his now-merely-socked feet, and she delicately set about pulling off his socks- moaning, nearly tearing up at the strange facade of his flavor they had- so agonizing to her starving body...