Natalie leaves for work, and Osmond decides to masturbate. He turns his laptop on, searches "how to make pasta from scratch" and starts playing with his genitals. After doing that for some time, he washes his hands, shaves, gets dressed, and goes to the convenience store.
"Eggs, salt, oil, fabric softener..." –Osmond thinks as he heads to the store.
He enters the convenience store, takes a basket and wanders around a bit. He puts the stuff he needs in the shopping basket, and after confirming he doesn't need anything else, he starts looking for pasta. He finds a few shelves with pasta, stops and looks in awe with an erection.
"I shouldn't buy more than one… Of each. No, I have to restrain myself! Just one kind."
He browses for quite some time, then puts a packet of lasagna sheets in his shopping basket and goes to checkout. On the way home he decides to make tagliatelle with cream, lemon and spinach. He gets home, unpacks the groceries and washes his hands.
"It's still a bit too early to start cooking… I guess I'll wait a bit more."
He reads for a while, plays some videogames for a while, then washes his hands and goes to the kitchen. He cleans the counter, washes the rolling pin and takes out 00 flour, eggs and a kitchen scale. He measures out 200 grams of flour and pours it straight on the counter, beats two eggs and puts them in the middle of the flour hill, combines and starts kneading.
Kneading the dough, he feels as if his hands are massaging a naked woman, squeezing her thighs, breasts and other parts with love and lust. After some massaging, the dough turns smooth and silky, like the skin of a woman in her early twenties. He wraps it with cling film, puts it in the fridge and looks at the oven clock.
"I have until 42… I guess I can make it."
Osmond goes to his room and masturbates again, this time using his imagination.
He washes his hands and goes back to the kitchen.
"11 more minutes…"
He washes a large handful of spinach thoroughly and roughly chops it up, then puts it in a saucepan along with some cream and a pinch of salt. He grabs a lemon and scrapes off some zest in the saucepan, then stirs until the spinach softens, and sets it all aside. After that, he fills a pot with water and puts it on the stove. He rolls the dough out thinly, then rolls it up and cuts it horizontally into tagliatelle. The water starts boiling, and he puts the tagliatelle in. After around five minutes of not doing anything in particular, he drains the pasta and stirs it into the saucepan. Natalie returns from work.
"I'm home!"
"Hey, Nat! Go wash your hands, lunch is almost ready."
"What are you making?"
"Tagliatelle with spinach, cream and lemon."
"Freaking pasta..." -She mutters as she walks to the bathroom.
Osmond serves the pasta, juices the lemon he undressed earlier, then puts the juicer in the middle of the table. Natalie sits down.
"I offer this food to God, Om Tat Sat."
"Thank you, God, for this food." -They say in unison.
"Put some lemon juice over your pasta, otherwise it might taste bland."
"Whatever, pervert."
"What now?"
"Nothing, pervert."
Natalie pours some lemon juice into her pasta, Osmond does the same, and they both start eating.
"Are you mad because I made pasta?"
"Jerk."
"It's just pasta."
"Maybe to normal people, but to you it's like renting a hooker"
"Don't tell me you're jealous."
Natalie looks to the side with a mild scowl and fills her mouth with pasta.
"You really are jealous."
Her scowl deepens as she chews and swallows.
"Shut up!"
"If it makes you feel better, I like you more than I like pasta."
Natalie's expression softens, but after Osmond lustfully slurps up his pasta, she gets even angrier.
"You… Ugh! I'm gonna eat in my room!"
She takes her plate, goes to her room and slams the door. Osmond sighs.
"I guess I shouldn't eat pasta with her around..."
.
.
.
A few hours pass. Osmond takes his earphones off and goes to the kitchen to make dinner, however, Natalie is already in the middle of cooking.
"Go away, jerk."
"Are you still angry about lunch?"
"I said go away."
"I… Fine, whatever, I don't care anymore."
Osmond goes back to his room and shuts the door. Natalie grits her teeth and hits the counter. She stomps all the way to Osmond's room, and as she reaches for the doorknob, Osmond opens the door. She pulls her fist back as if preparing for a punch. Osmond stays completely still, as if he's fully prepared to take it. Suddenly tears start rolling down her cheeks, and what was supposed to be a hard blow turns into a light tap. Osmond embraces her. She wails.
"I don't want you *hic* I don't want you to ma-make *hic* that fa-ace *hic* for anything else ot-ther *hic* other than meee..."
Osmond starts stroking her back. Natalie's wailing gets louder. Osmond's eyes tear up and a single tear rolls down his cheek.
"I won't make pasta ever again."
"I *hic* don-n't wan-t to *hic* see-e you like *sniff* like that a-ny-mo-o-ore..."
"You won't. Not with pasta."
Natalie's crying gradually quiets down. Osmond lets go of her.
"Let's go finish dinner." –Osmond says with a warm smile.
Natalie wipes her tears, forces a mild smile and kisses him on the cheek, then starts walking to the kitchen. Osmond touches the spot she kissed.