What about news, current affairs or even a fucking cooking show? Where are they? For a few seconds I think about a cooking show. Would it have potential? Should I get someone to look into it for me? I could ask for numbers.
Always ask for numbers on any business venture you’re thinking of going into, Dad used to say. Another advice I’ve taken to heart.
A gorgeous-looking woman appears on my massive TV screen. She’s bending over a kitchen bench. I stop mid-flick. And then I just stare at the screen.
Hello…
Each movement is graceful, deliberate, and artistic. Whatever she’s doing, she’s very fucking good at it.
I try to follow what she’s making. Did someone say something about scones? Maybe, but I can’t be sure because all I can do is watch her. Her hands are covered in flour and she even has a light dusting of it on her cheeks and chin.
Fucking cute.
The camera zooms in real close and I’m taken in by the sparkle in her eyes. She shoots a sideways glance at the camera. I can’t quite hear what she’s saying. I don’t have any volume and I am not good at lip reading, but I don’t care. My eyes just drink in the exquisite features of this divine creature.
I feel something run down my chin. Am I drooling? What the fuck? Probably. Someone’s apparently pressed the pause button of my brain and delegated any thinking to my cock. It’s at attention, ready for action.
“I want her,” I mutter. Now, I’m practically panting. I want to lick that dusting of flour off her face. I want to sprinkle her with sugary icing and then lick it off her.
I groan softly. There’s so much I want to do to this goddess.
Maddie’s voice seems to be getting louder and it pierces through my foggy state of mind.
I hear something about Beans & More and someone giving them a business proposal. Briefly, I wonder who the fuck Beans & More is. Who gives themselves such a weird-ass name? If I make any deal with them, the first thing I’d suggest is to change the name.
Everyone knows business is about a good name–a name that sells. A business with such a wacky name can never be a success.
“Leila,” my assistant says.
I stay focused on watching each and every move of this delightful woman. Her fingers work the dough like an artist. Now my mind is really getting it on as I imagine those skilled fingers grabbing my balls.
“Done.”
The woman of my dreams is gone. Maddie is standing in front of the screen smiling like a Cheshire cat. I look at her blankly.
What’s done?
I haven’t asked her to do anything in the last hour or so, not since I came back from my mid-morning meeting with the owner of the little corner café.
A total fucking waste of time, but I tried. All I got out of it was a tomato-stained shirt.
“Pardon?”
Maddie smiles and walks toward the table. Unfortunately there’s now an ad for steak knives on the TV.
“I made an appointment for you to meet Leila.”
Why is she talking in riddles all of a sudden?
Maddie points to the TV.
“You can meet Leila soon.”
“Um, okay…” I try to make sense out of the nonsense Maddie’s spouting. “You called the girl? Why?”
“You said you wanted her.” Maddie holds an iPad in front her, stylus hovering above the screen. “I assume you want to meet with her for the scones she makes. The woman and her heavenly product have gone viral. You no doubt want to discuss a business proposal with her.”
The light bulb goes on, and finally, I understand what happened. I smile.
“Yes, perfect. Thanks,” I say to Maddie and get off the couch. “I better get another shirt before my next meeting.”
Maddie’s already back on the phone. I don’t know whom she’s talking to now, but it doesn’t matter. I know she has things under control. She even made this appointment while I was still floating in erotic bliss. It’s like she knows me better than I know myself.
I whistle as I get ready. This day is turning out to be pretty fucking perfect, after all. I can’t wait to meet my angel Leila in person.
Chapter 4
Seth
I twirl the scotch in my glass, loving the way it rides right up the edge before coming down again without spilling a drop. It is all in the wrists. I stare out of the large double door glass windows.
Below me, I can see the common people going about their business; people riding their bikes, going for a jog, or just strolling through the park.
Up on the twenty-forth floor, I have a great view of the city and the nearby park. The midday sun is now streaming directly into my office, but I don’t mind. If I can’t be outside, I may as well enjoy it inside.
There’s a knock on the door.
“Come in.”
I don’t need to turn around to know it is Russell. His distinct aftershave gives him away every time. It travels ahead of him. Occasionally, I have suggested he change it, but he ignores me.
“Bad news,” says Russell, and now I turn around to look at him.
As I take a sip of my scotch, I raise an eyebrow in question. Generally, I’m not a believer in bad news. As far as I’m concerned, it is just news.
“Beans & More is fully booked for the rest of the week.”
I frown. Russell’s right; this is bad news.
“I need to have a face-to-face with her. Are you sure you’ve pulled all the strings?”
Russell is not one to be put off lightly. And he knows if all else fails, money is the best form of persuasion. Surely, he must be able to work his magic.
“I just got off the phone with them and they assure me there’s nothing that can be done. Fully booked.”
For some reason, he emphasizes the last part. I roll my eyes.
“Russ, I don’t need to remind you how important it is I get to see her this week. We need to speak to her before someone else does. Use whatever it takes to get me a table.”
My scotch continues to swirl in the glass, only this time it comes dangerously close to spilling. Russell should get my drift now.
He nods and shuts the door.
With my assistant gone, I glance at the oversized white board with a list of things to be done written on it. In the middle, I have written in large black letters: Make time to see Leila from Beans & More .
Next to it, I’ve added ‘Fortes fortuna adiuvat’—fortune favors the brave. May fortune favor me with Leila, ahead of any competitors.
Briefly, my thoughts turn to Blake. Had he made a move already? Fingers crossed, he’s too busy fucking some chick and has not even heard about the latest sensation going viral.
Carpe diem, my friend. I need to seize the moment before Blake beats me to it. It was one thing being college competitors and tying for Latin honors. It is another having him cut in on my territory. I wouldn’t put it past him to make a move on Leila and her scones.
Frustrated, I put my glass on my mahogany office desk and grab my tablet. As I move behind my desk to get out of the blinding light, I open up Buzzer. Here’s where I first saw the exquisitely delicious Leila baking her even more luscious scones.
Her image fills the screen and I soak in every bit of her. The photo is taken from the side as she is leaning over a tray of scones. It looks like she’s spooning the last of her heavenly mixture into a baking tray. My mouth waters just looking at her.
A tiny strand of her dark curls has escaped the net and bun holding her hair in place. You need to really magnify the shot to see it.
My fingers play with the screen, enlarging different bits of her. To my delight, she’s wearing a tight white t-shirt with a low v-neck, and I can just make out some white lace of her bra. She’s a tease.
As I stare at this goddess in the kitchen, I feel my cock harden. It wants her. It wants her now. I need to stay focused and not have my brain shut down because of my penis.
I flick down to the next picture. In this one, Leila is smiling and about to put a
scone into her mouth. Her lips are parted just a little and I can see the tip of her tongue. This woman has been sent by the devil to test me.
The numbers on the top right hand corner of the screen confirm it is another thirty minutes before I’m due to get my hair cut at Antonio’s. That leaves me another fifteen minutes to drool over this vixen.
The last shot in the article has Leila display a tray of her scones for the entire world to see. I can taste them just by looking at them. Russell had brought some in the other day, and they melted on my tongue. It was a mixture of sweet and spicy, with a hint of vanilla and something that my taste buds have never experienced before. Heavenly is how I would describe them.
I bet there’s something else really delicious Leila can offer, something my tongue wants to get a taste of.
Focus. If this deal is to come off, I need to stay focused–business before pleasure.
The knock on the door snaps me out of my fantasies.
Russell pops his head through the small gap.
“Done, boss. Her assistant helped me schedule a time for you to see Leila this week.”
I grin. Good man. I knew he could do it. With a sigh and a last longing look at the Leila’s photo, I click out of the site.
As I head out the door, I imagine all the wonderful things Leila and I could be doing. My imagination is working over time. Scones in every café in the city, not to mention the taste and flavor sensation we can create together.
And of course, last but not least, the explosion of pleasure we can create on an entirely different front.
Chapter 5
Leila
What a day. What an amazing day.
I know Chase agrees. We sit on the large sectional couch in our apartment and share the bottle of champagne that he saw fit to open. Great day.
My head’s still swimming with all that’s happening. It’s hard to believe, and yet, it’s all true.
“Did you see Shelly sneak in from the shop on 2nd Street?”
“I did.”
“She had her hair in her face, and even was whispering, like she was trying to disguise herself,” Chase says, laughing. “Like we wouldn’t recognize her!”
“Oh my god.”
“I know, right?”
“I thought I saw that one girl, the tall redhead from across town. She works in the drive-thru of that franchise.”
“Oh, you did,” Chase says, tilting his glass. “She’s a looker, that one. No disguising her.”
“No.”
“You know, maybe we could hire her to model some scones. You could decorate her body with them for a photo shoot.”
“Oh yeah?” I reply with a smirk.
“We could tell the businessmen in town she’s the triple stuffed kind.”
“Chase!”
“I have to commend you on your awesome work. Girl, you slayed it today. We never have people coming in from out of state. But today we did.”
“I thought I heard some funny accents from the backroom.”
He refills his and my glass, then lifts his high.
“To scones and thirty-six pre-orders.”
Wow. I had no idea.
“Thirty-six?”
“Yes,” he says with a big smile. “I wanted to surprise you.”
“You told me it was liked like twenty.” I give him a playful nudge.
“Like I said, Leila, I wanted to surprise you. Those additional sixteen are for orders to be picked up next week. It’s all recorded at the shop. And I bet we get more pre-orders before the end of the week.”
“Wow.”
“Yeah.”
“I did slay it.”
“You did!”
Chase drinks down his glass and fills it up again.
“I’ve got something to tell you. A bit of a mistake I made.”
When Chase makes mistakes, his whole demeanor changes from happy-go-lucky to beat down dog. I don’t like to see him that way, but I don’t like mistakes even more.
“Chase,” I groan. “What did you do?”
“I might have…okay, I did…schedule two meetings by accident on the same day…same time…”
I groan before he’s done.
“Sorry.”
I sit up straight on the couch and place my glass down.
“What meetings?”
“Well, I forgot about your meeting with Blake Jacobs, so I scheduled one with Seth McDaniel at the same time.”
I sigh and come up with a quick resolution. I’m really not in the mood to let anything spoil my high, so I don’t.
“It’s fine. I’ll just have a double meeting. No big deal.”
“Are you sure?”
“I’m sure.”
Chase instantly reverts to his happy self, fixes his red and gray slouchie, and takes another drink.
“This is good stuff.”
“We saved it for the right moment.”
“I agree. There’s no better moment than this one.”
“Nope.”
“So…”
I know something’s coming.
“What?”
“What are you going to wear when you met the Blake Jacobs and the Seth McDaniel?” he asks while he shoots me a sly smile. “ The Blake and Seth.”
“I haven’t given it any thought.”
“Well, you better.” He stands suddenly. “I’ve got to run to the bathroom. After that, meet me in your closet. We’re going to try on some outfits for that meeting.”
He’s right. It’s an important meeting, and I should look my best. As much as I hate the idea of trying on clothes at the moment, I know if I don’t do it now, I won’t do it later.
“Meet you there.”
I watch him dart off to the bathroom and laugh. He moves like a drunken giraffe . Standing, I find myself on wobbling legs. Hmm, maybe I move like a drunken giraffe, too.
In my small walk-in closet hang clothes form the past five years of my life. I don’t buy much, especially the last six months. I’m just too busy—all my focus is on the scone stuffed cones. There’s that doubt again, I think. Ugly stupid doubt. Yet, I remember the last time I was in need of a nice outfit; Chase was there to help me then, too.
“Hey, let’s see what you’ve got.” Chase walks into the tight space with me. “Honey, you go sit on the bed. I’ll pull out some stuff I think will work.”
“You went to art school; you should have gone to fashion design school, Chase.”
“Never too late.”
“Guess not.”
Chase rifles through my clothes like a madman. I wonder if he’s as disappointed by the selection as I am. But he isn’t saying anything. Not until he squeals.
“Oooh! I didn’t know you had this sexy number, Leila.”
Out flies a black cocktail dress I bought during college. It was tight then, and made my breasts nearly pop out of the top. Could it possibly fit me now? No. Maybe… No.
“That was my go-to sex dress…years ago.”
“I can tell,” he says. “Put it on! Put it on! Put it on!”
I finish off my glass and say to myself, Fuck it. Why not?
I slip out of my pajamas and quickly pull the old dress over my head. Everything’s going well—until I get to my boobs.
“Here, let me help you,” Chase says, tugging at the bottom of the dress. “Your big ole titties are in the way,” he giggles.
“They weren’t always so big or so old , Chase!”
But oh my god, this dress: I stretch it, slide it, and squeeze it. And suddenly—finally—it fits. Well, for the most part.
“Damn girl.”
I adjust my cups and look down. I can’t see my feet. The longer I look, the more I feel like I might topple over.
“Yeah, I went up a size or two since the last time I put this on. It must look horrible on me.”
“On the contrary,” Chase says with a big smile. “I think you would captivate Blake and Seth.”
“Really?” I reply, smiling back. “ The Blak
e? The Seth?”
“Little make up, some jewelry, maybe that little white three-quarter-sleeve bolero sweater I just saw a minute ago. Yeah…with you looking like that, Blake and Seth will be nothing compared to the Leila.”
Chase’s comment warms my soul. I like where this is going.
Chapter 6
Leila
The car ride to Casa Dell’amore goes quick: swift and short, as Chase would say. I know he’s home, anxiously waiting for my texts. I told him I would update him later.
He said he had full confidence in me. He should; I’m ready. I’m prepared.
The more organized I am, the less doubt I feel.
And today, I feel no doubt. Zero.
I’m ready.
I exit the cab and make my way to the front door of the restaurant. I wave to the attendant, who looks like he’s playing a game on his phone. He snaps to, stands up, and calls me by my name. I guess I’m expected.
“Follow me,” he says, and makes a grand gesture.
“Thank you.”
I follow the young man. He leads me into the restaurant, a magnificently large place that’s dripping with style and class.
I owe you one, Chase, I think. I sure am glad I listened to him and am wearing my black velvet dress with this nice pair of expensive heels to match.
The restaurant’s gold-clad accents really catch my eye. They shine, and what artist― culinary or otherwise―doesn’t like a little glitter?
It occurs to me as we reach the main dining area that the restaurant is empty, and that a large table has been set up in the middle of the room. This must be where I’m meeting the guys. What a way to make a first impression.
Blake and Seth are there, discussing some sort of business. As soon as they see me, they stand, each with a large smile on their handsome faces.
“Leila, good to see you.”
“Welcome.”
“Hello.” Their suits are exquisite. I bet that they cost over three thousand dollars. Gold watches, designer shoes…I wonder if those are Bally, or maybe, Berluti? I chuckle to myself as I think, Chase…you’re really rubbing off on me .
Blake reaches his hand out first. I take it and give him a firm handshake.
“My name is Blake Jacobs.”
Double Stuffed Page 2
