Deadly Dinner

Appearing in my driveway during a chilling winter’s night was my Italian boy-toy Feliciano in his crimson Mustang convertible. His car was smothered in pasty white snow from the blizzard that occurred a few hours before his arrival. As he approached me, I could just smell the radiant scent of Axe body spray and spaghetti because he worked at the local Olive Garden. He was about 5’11” with the muscles of Arnold Schwarzenegger when he was still a body builder. He also had mahogany eyes and shortly buzzed brunette hair. Our lips met with warm passion as he embraced me with all of his might. We went into the house where we had an exquisite dinner of ham with cherry wine in the finest glasses we had around. After we were finished, we journeyed over to my bedroom where we integrated in some explosively passionate coitus. During this event of erotic sensations, my hunky man candy departed to use the restroom where I heard a sudden scream of agony. I rushed into the restroom to discover Feliciano dead on the floor with a knife impaled into his skull from a shattered window. On his dead corpse, there was a small handwritten note that read the words, “You’re next.”