vigorli

Title: The Sandwich
Author:

rifleman_s
Characters: Orlando and Viggo
Warnings: None, but I hope it gives you a smile
Disclaimer: Still fiction, make-believe and all that jazz, and certainly no offence intended to anyone.

Written for:

adult_viggo Fall Drabble Challenge No 6

(It’s a little longer than true Drabble length so it’s behind the cut).

Based on this picture:

The Sandwich

The one thing Orlando missed on location was good food. What he meant by ‘good’ was the type of food he could savour and really enjoy without worrying about his finicky digestive system. He made a point of always befriending one of the chefs at any resort or hotel he was staying at, and yesterday he’d come across a treasure. The sous-chef in this hotel was also a vegetarian, dairy-intolerant, fussy eater – remarkable considering his chosen profession! – and had readily agreed to help Orlando in his endeavours.

There was another hectic photo-shoot to happen today so, bright and early, Orlando was on the ‘phone to the kitchen, requesting something special . . . and the chef agreed that he would have the sandwich of a lifetime waiting once the shoot was over. Orlando’s mouth was already watering on hearing the filling for this sandwich, but had to contain himself for now . . .

So, another photo-shoot. Another anonymous hotel room. People fussing with his hair. People attending to his make-up. An anxious director fussing with the lighting, the setting, the background. Seemingly a hundred changes of clothes. Horrible coffee, warm bottled water, no decent food, but still expected to pose here, pose there, smile here, smile there, wear this outfit, wear that outfit. Nonetheless, he stayed as bright as he could, for he did believe he owed it to his fans and admirers who would buy the magazines, watch the Internet, visit the cinema. And although wearisome, it was hardly taxing . . .

Oh! the relief, though, once it was over . . . dressed again in his own comfortable clothes, his trinkets secured around his neck, and his stomach rumbling happily at the thought of the good food (to say nothing of the good company) to come.

But there was still one photographer, who’d silently slipped into the room as the others were leaving, and who was waiting patiently for the one exclusive, candid shot of the day. The one photographer who wouldn’t take ‘no’ for an answer and who would take the photographs never to be seen in any magazine or on any Internet site. “Just one more, my love”, requested Viggo. “And I want to capture a certain look on your face . . . think of something you desire more than anything else. Think of something really special. Think of someone really amazing giving you that something special”.

As the shutter clicked, Viggo was sure he was seeing the perfect mischievous longing he wanted to capture on Orlando’s face, and he was awfully eager to satisfy that longing. As he packed away his camera, he winked knowingly at Orlando, who licked his lips in anticipation. Viggo was certain, from experience, that he knew that look . . . little did he know Orlando was picturing the divine sandwich awaiting him in the kitchen.

~End~