by Dani Lovell
We begin, silently, as we appreciate the mix of different refreshing flavours and textures. “Wow, the pear is perfect with the cheese.” I enthuse, thoroughly enjoying Sebastian’s choices.
“I agree, it tastes good!” he says, excitedly.
“You haven’t made this before?”
“No, I had heard that pears and blue cheese made a good couple but haven’t tried it before.”
“And the rest of the ingredients?”
“Just things I like that I thought would complement the salad.”
“That’s fantastic, Seb – you have a true talent in the kitchen.”
“If I want to succeed at something, I tend to try hard enough to do so. I like to cook.”
“That’s a very similar mantra to my own.”
“She believed she could, so she did?”
I smile and nod. “Yes, you remembered.”
“Of course, your tattoo had me intrigued from the moment I saw it. I’m fascinated that someone so outwardly prim and proper would have a tattoo.”
I giggle, taking another mouthful of coated leaves. “When did you have it done?”
I finish my food and take a sip of the delicious wine. “Um… must be about four years ago, or so.”
“Does anybody know about it?”
“Not many people, only those that see me semi or totally naked. It’s not something I tend to talk openly about. It’s for me, not others.”
“Interesting.”
“My mom knows, of course.”
“Your mom?” he yells, seemingly amazed.
I frown and smile. “Yeah, my mom, why?”
He laughs as he speaks. “I just didn’t think your mom would be pro-tattoos – not on you anyway. Does she like it?”
“Sure she does. She came with me, she helped with the design.”
“She what?” he cries, making me laugh.
“Yeah, she was very interested in the whole thing. She was on board from the moment she knew I wanted one. I was quite young then but I wanted to wait for a few years before I actually went for it.”
“Wow! That’s fantastic! I would never have Rose Berkeley down as the type.”
“You’re seeing sides to the Berkeley’s that you never knew existed!” I say, laughing.
“I definitely am! So did she watch?”
“Oh yes, she was asking questions the entire time, she’s fascinated by things like that.”
“I love it.”
“Do your parents know about your tattoos?”
He pauses for a moment and takes a mouthful of food before nodding. “So…” he continues, chewing and then swallowing his mouthful, “did you only want the one tattoo?”
I get the impression he’s not keen on talking about his parents; or himself, for that matter. “Yup, that was the only one because it was something I related to me, privately, and it was more for my own encouragement than art for others to see. So that’s the only one that ever really interested me. Your tattoos, however, captivate me. Did you always want to cover yourself like that?”
“Um… I don’t really know – I got the first one when I was about twenty and then continued to embellish.”
“Do you still get more now?”
“Uh huh, every now and again I add colour or modify an existing tattoo, and occasionally I’ll have an idea to add to fresh skin. I’m slowing down now though.”
“So you don’t have plans to be entirely covered?”
“No, no,” he shakes his head, “I like the torso and a few on the legs, but there’s only so much surface area you can cover. I’m pretty happy with the coverage I have now.”
“It looks good,” I add, genuinely, as I finish the last of my salad.
Sebastian watches, resting his elbows on the table, his hands fisted together over his cleared plate. “Good?”
“Incredible, thank you. I’m very impressed.” I smile.
“Would you like to join me in the kitchen while I prepare the next course?”
“Definitely!”
He stands and takes both plates, and I follow him to the kitchen with the near empty glasses.
“Lex,” he says, rinsing the dishes and putting them straight into the dishwasher like a good boy. “Feel free to take your shoes off, please feel comfortable.”
“Yes, good idea, saves me clicking my heels on the wood all night.”
I step out of my heels and wiggle my toes inside the nylon of my stockings. I don’t think guys will ever fully appreciate how amazing it is to slip tired toes out of cramped, daylong heels; the silky hosiery suddenly appreciably soft against hot and achy skin. Then, that touchdown on a cool, hard floor… ah, it’s heavenly.
These thoughts are all hidden behind a sophisticated façade, of course – these are power shoes, and power shoes do not hurt. And my feet? Well, they’re hard-core, boss feet, naturally! They don’t hurt – oh no, no, no, and they will never look anything but immaculately pretty and perfectly pedicured. That part is true. I have said it before and I’ll say it again; my nail technician is a gift from God, without her – power shoes would be an absolute no-go.
I pick them up and walk around the corner and down the hallway to position them neatly by the front door. Habit, I suppose.
“Hey, was the salad that bad?” Sebastian shouts; amusement weaved through his symphonious tone.
I laugh as I walk back into the kitchen area. “Your salad, Sebastian, was seriously awesome.”
“Seriously awesome?” he smiles, “Wow, I think that’s the first ‘seriously awesome’ salad I have ever made. That settles it, then – the blue cheese/pear salad will henceforth be named ‘ Seb’s Seriously Awesome Salad’.”
I giggle as I step up to sit on one of the four white breakfast bar stools to watch as he cooks. “I think that’s an extremely appropriate name. Be sure to write down everything you put in there so I can keep the recipe.”
“Why would I do that? You want Seb’s Seriously Awesome Salad? You just gotta call me up and place your order.”
“Aha, well played, Mr Love.”
“Naturally,” he says, an overly dramatised cocksure smirk on his beautifully perfect face. Oh my – did I just use ‘perfect’ when making reference to Sebastian Love? Call the cops – he’s slipped something in the wine.
“How about a top up?”
“Sure!” I slip off the chair.
“It’s right over there…” he nods his head towards the bottle on the far counter, and I move to retrieve it immediately.
“It’s great wine, Seb.”
“Yeah, I have a few bottles of that one, in particular. Can’t remember where I got it, but I clearly knew I liked it!”
I half fill the glasses and return the bottle, taking a long sip from mine as I go.
“You called me ‘Seb’ again,” he says, quietly, as he stirs the coconut sauce on the stove. “You’re working on it.”
“Did I? I told you, occasionally I do!”
“Yeah, I know, I know. Very occasionally. It wasn’t too early for you to eat, was it?”
“Oh no, I was hungry, I was definitely ready.”
“Great. This shouldn’t take too long now, either.”
He pours the rice into a strainer over the sink, and takes some fresh shrimp from the fridge as it drains. He pats them dry with kitchen towel and tosses them into the tomato and coconut sauce. The kitchen smells divine and even with the salad in there – my stomach continues to rumble.
“Mmm, this smells delicious.”
“I love this dish, and it so simple, too. Spiced coconut shrimp – what’s not to like about coconut and shrimp?”
“Nothing whatsoever,” I agree, looking on, attentively, as he stirs the large pan.
He leaves the shrimp to cook and takes two large white dishes from the cupboard. He spoons the perfect amount of rice on each plate and tears up a few cilantro leaves, leaving them to the side, obviously to garnish.
I could definitely get used to having a man who i
s serious about cooking – men that cook are my most recently discovered attraction, and I think this will become a new addition to my list of ‘man-must-haves’. It’s just an added bonus that this particular man-that-cooks is covered in delicious body art – another new attraction – and has strength that could put Arnold Schwarzenegger to shame.
Can you totally change your ‘type’, having met just one man who is so completely different to what you thought your type was? Well, I think so, because I believe I have.
He pours a brimming ladle of the shrimp sauce onto the rice and tosses the cilantro on top. It all looks so simple, and his presentation is superb, considering it didn’t look like much difficulty went into it at all. He must be very experienced in the kitchen, as well as the bedroom. I look forward to finding out what he’s good at in all of the other rooms, too.
“Okay, all set? Shall we?” he asks, nodding towards the dining area.
I smile and do my part - collecting the glasses – and I walk with him to the table, slightly shorter this time.
It really is delicious. I’m so completely impressed by his capabilities, I love that he’s a pilot, I love that he has the demands and pressures of a huge, extremely successful business, I love his wicked personality and spine tingling sexual proficiency. And if all of that and the remainder of his resume of impossible talents wasn’t enough – he could give Gordon Ramsey a run for his money.
I really need to deal with my penchant for this man. It’s unhealthy.
As we sit around the table, drinking wine, empty plates pushed away from us, we talk comfortably about everything and anything. Given I was previously so uptight whenever I had contact with Sebastian, I am finding him so easy and fascinating to talk to. Fair enough, tonight he has been talking mostly about me, but just chit-chat about the food he makes and his apartment is definitely enough for me to find my insides yearning.
“So… outwardly prim and proper, huh?” I ask, a smirk on my face.
“Prim and proper?”
“Yes, earlier when we were talking about my tattoo, you said you found it hard to believe someone so ‘outwardly prim and proper’ – and I quote that, would have a tattoo. You think I’m prim?”
He chuckles. “I do. I think - to the outside world, you’re extremely fastidious and ‘appropriate’.”
“You don’t think I’m naturally like that?”
“Oh don’t get me wrong, I do think you’re very natural – however, there is a side to you that most people don’t know about, as you well know.”
“Well I think it would be wrong for any business woman - or lady for that matter, to act anything but appropriately.”
“That’s just it. That exact mentality. You’re almost a sexy little geek.”
“A geek?” I cry, disgruntled, and he laughs so naturally – straight from his belly.
“No, no, no. Don’t go getting me wrong. I mean, yes – a geek because you’re so finely in tune to everything that’s going on around you, you are a highly intelligent woman and quite adamant about how a lady or businesswoman should act.
“You know everything about pretty much everything – kinda like a geek! But you’re so freaking hot, Lexie, so beautiful and sexy. And behind the scenes, there is so much more to you. You wear leopard print underwear and stockings under those plain navy suits, you can do things in the gym most guys can’t even contemplate, you give an explosive blow-job, and what’s more brilliant about that, is that you actually love it. You’re prim and proper but you secretly love to be naughty. I think that’s the point I’m getting at.”
I raise my eyebrows and take all of that in. I don’t know whether to be insulted at some of those things or not! I take a long pause, considering everything he has said, as he watches on, nervously semi-smiling. The room is silent for a moment.
“You think my suits are plain?” I ask, quietly, looking down at my attire and fingering my collar.
Sebastian bursts out laughing. “Oh my God, seriously, Alexia? Of everything I just said, you’re concerned about your suit? Yes, it is plain, but not in a bad way – you always look good. My point is, that in that very attractive and stylish… plain suit, nobody would expect you to be wearing hard-on inducing, crazy-sexy lingerie. I’ll be man enough to admit that just thinking about what might possibly lay underneath that… very lovely suit, is creating movement in my increasingly tight pants.”
“Those pants couldn’t possibly be tight, even if you tumble dried them on top heat for four hours straight.” I do absolutely everything I can, not to look down at his crotch through the glass table. I deserve a medal for managing.
He laughs. “Okay, as much as I’d love to believe that my pecker alone could tighten these pants, I agree, I might be exaggerating a little there. But there’s movement.”
I pause for a while, still contemplating his description of me. “Well, I am different to how most people see me, yes. I like that – it means I have something private, for me, but I’m not completely naughty, Sebastian. I do like…” I look at him, slightly nervous, but I’m going to say it because I’ve done this stuff with him – it’s silly to feel uncomfortable talking about it, “oral sex, yes, but that doesn’t mean I’m a total sex addict, it’s not like I have a penchant for bondage or porn or anything, I’ve never even watched it so I’m really not...”
“Wait, whoa, whoa, whoa…” he interrupts, “you’ve never watched porn?” he asks, incredulously, his hands flat on the glass table.
I smile, frowning as if he’s crazy. “Um… no? Do you find that odd? Most people aren’t into porn.”
“What?” he cries again. “Everybody has at least watched, if not regularly watches porn.”
“What?” My turn, this time. “No they do not! Maybe guys…”
“No way! Women too! Do you read dirty books instead or something?”
I laugh out loud, bouncing in my chair. “No! We don’t all need to get our kicks from watching or reading erotic stuff, you know.”
Okay, so I might be telling a little fib – some of my secret romance books are a little erotic… and so maybe I do enjoy that – but I definitely don’t read them for that part!
“I just don’t believe it. Lex, you’re thirty… how old?”
“Never you mind; I’m thirty something.”
“Okay, so you’re early or mid-thirties – and by the way, I’d still be shocked if you’d said twenty three – and you haven’t seen even a little part of a porno? What about the funny porn-related video clips that get sent around online? Surely when you were young your friends showed you something they found, or…”
“No! No, Sebastian – I haven’t seen any! My friends just aren’t like… that. It’s not something I’m interested in – it’s horrible.”
“Well how would you know if you haven’t seen any?”
“It’s just cheap and nasty. I’m not into it.”
“You really don’t think it might turn you on at all?”
“Absolutely not. Never.”
“Interesting. You continue to surprise me – once I think I’ve got you pegged, you do something else to change that.”
I smile and shrug – there’s not a lot I can say to that. I am whom I am, and I’m not going to pretend to be someone else or change to fit into the mould that is other people’s expectations. Anyway, he does exactly the same thing to me – I think I’ve formed a different opinion of him and then he does something unexpected and knocks it all out of the water again.
I smile as I stand and collect the plates, preparing to take them through to the kitchen. “I’m just me.”
He nods and stands next to me, close enough for me to feel his body warmth, but far enough for me to crave a little brush of an arm or leg. “Yes you are, and every which way – I like you.”
I turn and walk towards the kitchen, smiling – I don’t want him to see that particular reaction. He follows, and I can almost feel his eyes boring into my butt as if they were red-hot lasers. This ‘plain’ suit
does showcase it quite nicely, if I do say so myself. I’m glad I decided to go ‘plain’ this morning.
“I have prepared dessert, would you like some? I need to finish it off.”
“Really? You have outdone yourself tonight, Sebastian, I am so impressed. I am definitely full, but if it’s tiny, I’d love to have a little of something sweet.”
“Well, they’re not tiny but I’d be happy to share one with you, do you like crème brûlée?”
I gasp. “Oh I adore crème brûlée! Did you know that already?”
He chuckles, clearly pleased with himself. “No, I really didn’t. So… you’d like some?”
“Oh, yes please. But yes, lets share.”
“Sure.”
He loads the rinsed plates into the dishwasher before lifting a cloche from the side counter. Hidden beneath it all evening have been 2 ramekins filled with my favourite vanilla custard.
He sprinkles just one with Demerara sugar and moves it over to a metal sheet on the hob. He takes a pretty mean looking blowtorch from the cupboard and gets it ready.
“Wow, hard-core dessert making, huh?” I smile, moving to his side, and he smiles right back at me.
“It’s fun! When else can you mix the toolbox with food? Total man-cave cookery.”
“Well, we are in your man-cave, so I’d say it’s wholly appropriate – wouldn’t you?”
“Definitely.”
He turns it on and begins to glaze the sugar until it turns a deep, inviting golden brown.
“How d’ya like that?” he asks, leaving the ramekin on the metal sheet and moving the blowtorch to another counter to cool.
“I like that a lot! It looks delicious, Seb.”
“I’m glad you think so.”
We finish the extremely decadent dessert, not before I take mental note to do an extra set of squats at the gym tomorrow, and retire to the comfortable couch in the living area. The balcony doors remain open to each of the three rooms it connects with, sending a cool evening breeze through the apartment.
When I sit, I carefully situate myself right in the centre of the corner group, giving Sebastian the option to sit close to me, or at one of the ends. I secretly hope that he sits right next to me, so that our bodies touch, but I would never invite him to do so, nor would I let my desire be known.
