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When Hannibal Met Clarice

copyright 2001, by China Mail

Disclaimer:    These characters were created by Thomas Harris.  They are used herein without permission, but in the spirit of admiration and respect.  No infringement of copyright is intended, and no profit, of any kind, is made by the creator, maintainer or contributors to this site.

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It was a beautiful summer’s day in Terra Haute, Indiana. At about 2:30 the maroon van exits the Interstate and slides up to the pumps outside of Sally’s Dine & Fill. A woman wearing shorts, auburn hair pulled back in a clip alights from the passenger side door of the van and make her way across the hot asphalt. An elderly gentleman holds open the glass door of the restaurant, tipping his hat and smiling. She smiles back widely as she swings by him and heads for the restroom sign towards the back of the diner.

A man wearing a cap steps down from behind the wheel of the van and says something to the station attendant. The attendant nods, wiping his greasy hands on a rag then reaches out and takes the keys being offered.

Clarice emerges from the Ladies Room, looking around to see if Hannibal was already seated. She doesn’t spot him so she gives a nod to the hostess who leads her through the empty restaurant to a high-backed booth at the end of the aisle. She lays two menus down on the table top and Clarice orders two large lemonades to start, one with extra ice.

“Oh, and when my friend comes in, can you tell him I’m back here? He’s wearing a Yankees baseball cap.”

“Sure thing, miss.” The waitress leaves to get their drinks.

Clarice leans back and closes her eyes. She knows that after this brief lunch she’ll be driving for the next three hours. This endless driving and his ceaseless chatter is starting to grate on my nerves just a little bit. She couldn’t believe she was driving half way across the country with him. What had they been thinking? They should have flown.

A few moments later Hannibal slides into the booth.

“Well, they said it should take less than an hour to replace the hose. We can eat and be on our way again. What looks good?”, he says as he surveys the oversized menu.

“Hmm, I think I’ll just have a piece of pie.”

The waitress delivers their lemonades and Clarice places her order.

“I’ll have the apple pie ala mode, heated please. Ice cream on the side. And I’d like strawberry, not vanilla. Unless you don’t have strawberry, in which case I’ll take whipped cream instead of ice cream.The real kind. If not, then don’t heat the pie. Please.” She punctuates this with her sweetest smile.

The waitress sighs and fights the urge to roll her eyes, but Hannibal does not. Then, giving his most winning smile, he orders, “I’ll just have a chef salad, and feel free to pour the dressing right on top.”

“Certainly sir”. She gives him a sympathetic look before she walks away.

“It’s a little cold in here.” Clarice looks around to see where the air conditioner is.

“Yes, I thought you might be cold. Either that or you’re ready”, he murmurs suggestively.

“Ready for what?” She looks up to find his gaze on her breasts. She looks down again and sees that her nipples are prominently poking against the fabric of her blouse.

“I’m cold, that’s all. Leave it to a man to construe something entirely different.”

“I can tell when a woman enoys my attention.”

“Oh, can you now? I guess your years of captivity left you somewhat naïve about women.” All of this verbal fencing is getting her annoyed.

“You think I can’t tell the difference between a chill and arousal, Clarice?”

She notices the intensity of his gaze. “What, are you going to do, sweep the dishes off the table and take me right here? You’re unbelievable.”

“Oh, please believe me, I’m quite serious. Though I was thinking of something a little more subtle than that.”


The waitress returns with their food. “Your pie, Miss.” The plate hits the table with a slight bang. “And a chef salad for you sir.” She smiles at him and rolls her eyes this time before walking away.

“So where were we?” Hannibal slips off his sandle and reaching his leg under the table, runs his foot up the length of Clarice's smooth leg. Pausing just a moment to gauge her reaction - and registering her surprise - he burrows his toes into one leg of her shorts.

She gulps down a bite of pie in her mouth and says somewhat nervously, “Stop this silly game. Someone will see."

“Nonsense, there’s no one here. The lunch crowd has departed and I told you I’m quite serious.”

She looks around and realizes he’s right, there’s no one here. His big toe feels its way to her panties and very adeptly hooks the silky material, already moist, and pulls it to the side. She involuntarily finds herself opening her thighs wider to ease his access. Their gazes lock until he begins to expertly massage her with his toes and her head falls forward as she lets out a soft moan. She slides her body forward in the seat now seeking his penetration and getting it.

She is suddenly consumed with desire at the feel of his big toe having its way with her. “Oh, yes, please don’t stop Hannibal”, she pleads.

His voice caresses hers, his eyes narrowing with the same excitement that she’s experiencing. “Like that do you? Take a bite of your pie now Clarice.”

With a shaky hand she cuts another piece of pie with her fork and slowly brings it to her mouth. “Oh, yes, yes, yes…” she feels her body racing towards release. The fork disappears between her lips and she finds herself biting the tines to keep from crying out, eyes shut, head thrown back as she unsuccessfully muffles her moans of delight.

“Welcome to Sally’s. What can I get you ma’am?” the waitress asks a matronly woman in the third booth down across the aisle.

“I’ll have what she’s having!”


copyright 2001, by China Mail

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