Mussels, clams, oysters, and cockles littered the surface of one of the kitchen counters. To the right, even more seafood lay in waiting. A few live lobsters and dead fish all stacked together hazardously in crates.
Wynnie's hands were balled up in fists, resting on her hips. She hadn't spoken in almost a minute. I was starting to get nervous.
Oh, and the smell. Yikes.
"You know this is insane, right? There's way too much seafood here."
"We'll have a full house," I offered. "Both in rooms and probably in the restaurant."
"Yeah, but look at all these shellfish! There's no way we can get people to eat this many clams and oysters!"
"Well, then you're going to love this…"
I held up one finger to let her know I'd be right back, then excused myself.
A few moments later, I returned to the kitchen, having grabbed the last two buckets of shellfish that were waiting right outside. There were scallops, abalone, and a whole lot more oysters and clams. I set both buckets down on either side of me in front of the table.
Wynnie buried her head in her hands and groaned. "Goodness gracious. I can't believe you got this many blazing useless crustaceans!"
Shivai sat on a clean surface nearby. Her tail was wrapped loosely around her leg as she listened in on our conversation, almost laughing. This time, I was on her side, not Wynnie's. I actually thought the whole situation was pretty funny.
“Oh, this is rich,” the demonkin chuckled.
“Rich? You think this is rich!?”
"I think she meant that we’re rich, Wynnie! Rich in mussels!" I looked down at one of the buckets, where so many mussels were packed in that it looked like they were trying to jump out. "Think of all the sea otter friends you could make with a bounty like this!"
"Ugh! I don’t even know any sea otters!”
“Maybe that’ll change now,” I murmured.
“A girl should be so lucky!” Her pitch rose, ragged at the edges. A rare bit of exasperation bled through. Then, she shook her head to clear it, apparently having heard her last protest. "Besides, this is the wrong weather for oyster stew! You think people want a steaming bowl of clams in this heat?”
This was where all of my Earth knowledge gave me an advantage. Here in this strange kingdom, raw food was exceptionally uncommon unless it was a fruit. Or maybe a carrot. Yet I'd made the Breakwater Inn a growing success, in part because of the raw fish dishes I'd introduced to the world.
If she was thinking about oyster stew instead of oyster shooters, or oysters served on the half shell, then she was in for a whole new world of raw food.
And potentially food-borne illnesses, I guess. Couldn’t forget those.
"Actually, I have just the thing. We'll serve them cold. Ice cold."
"Cold? Ew." Her nose wrinkled up cutely in disgust. "You want to boil them up, then let them sit out and get cold and rubbery? I hate to break it to you, but that sounds disgusting. Nobody will go for it."
"Actually, we won't boil them at all. We'll serve them raw."
Her eyebrows shot up nearly to her hairline. I couldn't quite decide if that was surprise mixed with disgust, or just surprise and then disgust. Either one was fair. The first time I'd seen a raw oyster, I remembered thinking that it wasn't something you were supposed to eat, either.
Yet after years of paying far too much for them at fancy restaurants, I'd come to think of them as something of a delicacy. Perhaps the locals would come around, too.
And if we had to charge a little extra to make them seem premium? Well, that was just good marketing sense.
"Come on. Let's have a few here now. Once you try them, you'll see how good they can be."
I snagged a couple of oysters from the bucket and inspected them closely for… something. They were all knobbly and gross on the outside, as far as I could tell. My experience preparing food was limited mostly to citruses and syrups. I’d never prepared an oyster in my life.
I offered it to the local. "Wynnie? I'm guessing you know how to shuck these things?"
"Of course."
Wynnie's affirmation came with no movement to actually do anything. She stood completely still, arms crossed.
"Well, can you?"
"Of course." Once again, she made no move. Finally, after I raised an expectant eyebrow, she grumbled and rummaged around in a drawer for a thin knife. "Fine. Oh, phooey. I can't believe I'm letting you talk me into eating these dad-gum things raw."
"Don't worry. We'll dress them up real nice."
I’d officially talked a big game. All I could hope was that I could walk a bigger one.
Still not knowing how to be a proper chef, I searched around for a few ingredients that I thought might bring the oysters to life a bit. Their natural briny taste would probably be nice enough on its own, but thinking back, I knew they could be made more appealing with a mignonette. It wasn’t something I’d ever made before, but I knew enough about the basics to give it a decent go.
Usually, there was some mixture of shallots, vinegar, and pepper, give or take a few things. One of my favorite restaurants added honey and yuzu. A bright pop of acid and a touch of sweetness would balance out the hint of brine, I figured.
That knowledge was enough to get us started, at least.
First, I put the girls to work. Shivai got shallot-mincing duty thanks to her professed knife skills. Wynnie shucked oysters and set them half-shell down on a block of ice. Meanwhile, I grabbed a few of the strange citruses I’d procured and zested them into a bowl. Then, I squeezed in the juices, letting it all macerate.
As I added a touch of salt and pepper, Shivai deposited the minced shallots. Her cuts were so fine that it looked like a paste. She watched with growing interest while I stirred everything together. The spaded tip of her tail flicked with curiosity, and a sly smile bent the corners of her mouth.
"You know succubi love shellfish. Clams and oysters, especially."
Somehow, that tracked. I didn't want to hazard such an explicit guess. Unfortunately, what I wanted to do and what I actually did turned out to be two separate things. Before I could think about it, my mouth was moving.
"Is it because of the sex stuff?"
Wynnie froze.
Shivai grinned.
"Yup."
Slowly, the elven innkeeper resumed shucking. Her flat blade slipped halfway into the shell of an oyster. "What sex stuff?"
"Well, you know what they say an oyster resembles, right?"
“A… a mollusk?”
"Back where I'm from, people say that oysters are aphrodisiacs," I explained. Then, not knowing if they knew what an aphrodisiac was, I added, "They make people want to get down and dirty."
Wynnie’s eyes darted between the two of us, then dropped almost in shame. A tinge of red bloomed behind the cute freckles dotting her cheeks. She cleared her throat quietly, then slid the knife further into the oyster.
"I don't think I need an oyster's help to get in the mood for that," she said, almost in a whisper.
"Me neither," agreed Shivai. "But it couldn't hurt to test the theory, now could it? Let's eat a bunch and see if we get horny."
Wynnie reached out to touch one of Shivai's horns. "You're already horny!"
"I'm always horny," Shivai corrected her. "The difference is subtle, but meaningful."
As the two went back and forth playfully, I felt a sudden urgency in what I was doing. My chest felt light and anxious. I had to get these girls some oysters immediately.
Had to.
With a wooden spoon, I tasted the mignonette and adjusted. An extra shake of salt highlighted the subtle sweetness of the shallot. A smidgen of honey gave the sauce body. The citrus, light and vaguely lemony, mixed well with the vinegar, making sure neither acid overpowered the other.
All we needed was a little spoonful to top the oysters. They would be fine enough plain, I was sure. Yet the initial briny punch always faded, and having a second base of flavor to carry the earthy, mineral body always helped.
Another quick taste confirmed that I’d found the right combo. Or, if not the right one, then one that had to be close enough. I licked a bit off my finger and thumb, smacking my lips with satisfaction.
To my side, Shivai was pointing out various anatomical features of the oysters Wynnie had shucked. From what I could tell, it wasn’t a lesson in marine biology.
The next step was to chill the oysters even more. The ice block Wynnie conjured was a start, but it didn’t form to the shells. There simply wasn’t enough surface area in contact. It also just didn’t look right. After so many years of eating at Earth restaurants, I had certain expectations for oyster presentation.
"Wynnie, can you make a bed of ice for us? Not a solid block, either. More like hail. Or, um, snow. You've seen snow, right?"
"I didn't always live on the coast, Drew. Of course I've seen snow."
"Great. Can you make it?"
"Wynnie, shuck the oysters. Wynnie, make it snow. Wynnie, slurp a live, gooey, shellfish raw to see if it makes you amorous,” she teased. She sighed dramatically. "Oh, the things I do for love.”
She excused herself to fetch another bowl of water. When she returned, she set it on the counter next to the serving tray. She closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and cocked her chin as if to say, here goes.
This time, instead of freezing it solid with a sparkling touch, she moved her hands around like a raver with lights attached to her fingertips. The glowing blue sparkle of arcane power ringed around her digits in a swirling, turbulent manner. A chill settled throughout the already cool kitchen.
Motes of frozen water swirled up from the surface of the bowl. Crystalline flakes formed, all thick and misformed like shaved ice. It was a little like watching corn kernels pop into popcorn. With a flourish, Wynnie guided them through the air onto a serving platter. It all stacked up in a heap.
Shivai clapped.
I placed the oysters, half shell down, on top of the bed of magic snow. Then I laid a small spoonful of my mignonette over each one.
It actually looked pretty professional. If someone served me a platter like it at a super expensive restaurant back on Earth, I wouldn't have blinked twice. I would've just expected everything to taste awesome, thanks to the expert presentation.
None of us moved for several seconds. We all stared, waiting for something to happen. Finally, I took charge, reaching for one.
"Welp."
I tipped the half shell back, letting the oyster slide into my mouth. The bright, citrusy flavor spread over my tongue, semisweet, before the briny tang of the ocean left its impression. I chewed a couple of times, feeling the curious, alien texture of the oyster between my teeth. Just as its flavor began to mix with the dressing, I swallowed and blinked several times, still assessing.
"Well?" asked Wynnie.
"My turn!" said Shivai. She reached out and grabbed her own half shell, copying exactly what I did. "Oh, fuck me, that's good!"
Wynnie giggled. "Did you just ask one of us to, um, pleasure you?"
"Did I? I mean, I certainly wouldn't say no." She reached for another oyster. "Come to think of it, I did say fuck me, didn't I? My mind really is in the gutter, huh?”
I chuckled. "I mean, you were comparing these to yonis earlier.”
“At first, I thought you two were just being crass, but…” Wynnie inspected a clam closer, picking it up from the chilled bucket and turning it about in her fingers. She ran her index finger along the clamped-up slit. "Hmm."
"Can you eat clams raw, too?" asked Shivai.
"You can. It's a lot less common, but it's totally doable. Do you want to try one?"
"Hell yeah. I wanna see what it's like to finally lick a clam."
What did she mean by finally?
I studied Wynnie’s movements intently, trying not to overthink anything.
Wynnie shucked a clam. I got a small spoonful of the citrus ready, but Shivai was impatient. She snatched the mollusk from the elf’s grasp before it was all the way open. The demonkin clutched it protectively in front of herself, gazing into the slimy contents within.
With a quick wink and a smile thrown my direction, she brought it to her lips. Her tongue flicked out, tasting the meat hidden within.
I blinked, just barely registering what I'd seen. How had I not noticed that before?
It wasn't that it so closely resembled licking pussy. No, it was that Shivai had an almost black, forked tongue. It reminded me a bit of those alt girls who’d undergone medical procedures for bifurcation.
Yet somehow, Shivai’s looked less unnatural.
The clam went into her mouth, and she chewed once, briefly, before swallowing it. The whole time, she made eye contact. When she finished, she blinked, then licked her lips again with that forked black tongue before blowing me a kiss.
"Holy cannoli," I said.
"That was delectable!" Shivai commented.
"That was actually…" Wynnie paused, seeming to search for the right word. When she found it, it came out almost breathlessly. "That was actually very compelling."
"Want to watch me eat another?"
"Yes, please."
Wynnie seemed all in. And I had to admit, I kind of wanted to watch again, too. Something about watching the succubus slide her tongue between a clamshell to slurp and suck at the insides did something for me.
Feverishly, and with a slight tremble in her hands, Wynnie shucked another clam. She handed it reverently to Shivai, who grabbed it with dainty purple fingers and drew out the moment, building the tension with slow sensuality.
Right as she brought the clam to her mouth again, the kitchen door echoed with a sturdy knock. A second later, a somewhat scaly turquoise face peeked her head in, hair windswept and sea-blown. It was Freya, the muscular sailor woman from the boat before.
Her expression went from slightly curious to exceptionally curious as she realized what was going on. Her lips spread into a slow smile.
"Well, well, well. Now, what have I walked in on? And is there room for one more?"