Sizzling in Singapore (A Carnal Cuisine Novel)

by Falls, K. C.

  ***

  Mae had left the kitchen in the capable hands of her line and gone to see about the luncheon. She had less confidence in the garde manger than the line cooks. The garde had a tendency to get sloppy if she didn't ride him pretty hard. When well supervised, though, his presentation was positively art. He was brilliant at all the intricate fruit and vegetable carvings that made the elegant luncheon buffets so highly sought after (and profitable) for the Elys's food and beverage department.

  Today, she was pleasantly surprised at the way the luncheon was going. Everything was neat and orderly, all items were in place and the whole spread looked divine. Mae understood why her hotel was so well-regarded. Looking at the table groaning with the freshest and finest ingredients, made into dishes with exacting care and laid out with such grace and beauty made Mae proud of herself and her staff.

  By two-thirty, the lunch service was done and the staff began to prep for the dinner.

  Mae made some quick rounds of the kitchen, checking the prep for dinner service. The line was still very much up and running, but by now it was mostly poolside burgers and club sandwiches going out the door. The afternoon hours were critical for a smooth dinner service. Everyone had their jobs to do and today, it seemed there were no surprises from the purveyors. Mae was grateful for that. No last minute menu changes because the ingredients didn't arrive in time.

  Being a small island nation, Singapore imported nearly everything from near and far. Most of the produce came in screamingly fresh from across the straits and the Malay fields. Beef and lamb flew in from Down Under. Rice and chickens from Thailand. And, as much as she claimed she was no good at food costing, Mae was actually pretty good at squeezing all the value possible out of all that expensive food.

  After she had satisfied herself that all was humming along as it should in the main kitchen, she went to file the various invoices from the deliveries in Kurt's office. She climbed the few steps up to the exec's office and opened the door. She did a double-take when she saw a man dozing on the desk. His long arms wrapped around his head as he slept and a bright red bandana covered his hair.

  The sound of the door being opened roused the man from his nap and he jerked upright. Mae stood in the office door and gaped open mouthed at the stud she had so thoroughly enjoyed the night before.

  "What are you doing here?" The question came out of Mae's mouth even as she realized with a sinking feeling that she knew exactly what he was doing there.

  "I probably should have told you before I...before we got together last night that I was here to pinch-hit in Kurt's absence, but things...well...you know"

  Nick's rather sheepish explanation didn't sit well with Mae. How dare he deliberately withhold that very important fact? If she had known he was going to be working at the Elys in any capacity she would never have given in to last night's impulsiveness. "Yes, you damn well should have told me. I would never have...I don't mix work with...I mean I avoid..."

  "Look, I'm sorry. It's just that you were pretty much irresistible last night. There's no harm done. I'm only here until either Kurt comes back or a replacement is found. Besides, we're not likely to run into one another very often. I'm not exactly going to be supervising every pantry girl at the Elysium."

  "Pantry girl? Pantry girl? You assume I'm a pantry girl, huh? Oh the arrogance!" Mae was doubly ticked off now. First the deception, now the assumption that she was some lowly salad spinner. "I will have you know, Chef Nick that I am your chef de cuisine. Furthermore, Claude offered to let me step up to the plate as exec and I declined"

  "I see. Well that is a bit on the awkward side, isn't it? Look Mae, no one has to know what we're up to. You're obviously a girl after a bit of fun, so let's have our fun when we can."

  "We're no longer up to anything. You knew last night that you'd be my boss and you should have allowed me to make the choice of whether we should...whether I wanted to..."

  "Fuck me senseless?" His smile infuriated her. "We were very good together. I can't say I've ever had better."

  "You were deliberately deceptive. I don't appreciate it at all."

  "You certainly seemed to appreciate it last night."

  Mae felt a little tingle between her legs in spite of herself. "Last night was a mistake and is now history. I'd be very grateful if you could manage to keep it to yourself. I've worked hard for the respect this crew grudgingly gives me. They would love to have something like this to tease me mercilessly about. I don't want my authority eroded by some meaningless incident"

  "You have my word that I won't reveal our dirty little secret," Nick said. Mae sensed a touch of bitterness in his voice.

  "You have absolutely no right to be peeved with me," she said indignantly. "You used me with the full knowledge that we'd be working together."

  "I think you'll have to agree that the 'using' part was entirely mutual."

  Mae was tempted to explain that her behavior the night before was very much out of character for her and that she didn't jump every man's bones. But as angry as she was, she wasn't going to give him the satisfaction of thinking that there was anything special about him. It was better for him to continue assuming that it was completely normal for her to have passionate sex with a random stranger.

  "Okay then, we used each other. But you're the one who was deceitful."

  "I said I was sorry. As you won't let me make it up to you in the manner I would very much like to, what mea culpa would satisfy you?"

  "None. I mean, nothing. I mean I accept your apology. Let's just move along from it, okay?

  When you're ready, I'll introduce you around." Mae covered her confusion with an all-business-now attitude. She made a quick exit with a forced tight-lipped smile that looked more like a grimace. She was determined to put up a mature front even if she was suffering a combination of anger at his deception and embarrassment that she was now going to have to work beside Nick for the foreseeable future. If I can't look at him without remembering last night, he certainly won't be forgetting either. This is what happens when I step out of my comfort zone! Now I've got a boss who thinks I'm a complete slut. And there's nobody to blame but myself. Damn, damn, damn!

  ***

  Nick spent the rest of the day sequestered in the office. Not only was he physically slammed from the jet lag, he was also licking the wounds to his male pride. No matter how much a man fancies himself a love 'em and leave 'em kind of guy, it stings when the shoe is on the other foot. Nick was surprised that it hurt just a tad when Mae dismissed their passion so casually. Obviously, she was simply the kind of woman who used men for sex when she felt like it and could walk away. Figures, she's got to have brass balls to do her job so it follows that she'd have a guy's attitude toward getting some. Point made, Chef Mae.

  It irritated him, but he had to admit to himself that somehow he felt a real sting by her rejection of any further intimacy. It seemed more than obvious that Chef Mae could put their tryst in the pool in the 'meaningless event file' in her world. Nick wondered why she had such an effect on him. He'd had casual encounters with beautiful women before. And she wasn't even that beautiful. Her nose was a tad too long, her lips a tad too full. Her body was perfect, if you liked the tiny type. Yes, he told himself, I've had more beautiful women. Was it her passion? Her abandon? Why does she keep intruding on my mind? Try as he might, Nick could not dismiss the chemistry between them easily. And, now that he knew her position in the kitchen, he also had to admit to himself that he was intrigued.

  Nick himself had held the chef de cuisine title at the San Francisco Elysium before he stepped into the exec position. Truth be told, he thought being the exec was a softer job. The main reason he was retiring from hotel cheffing was the fact that he had worked himself up to the top and didn't like it much. He missed being a part of the action. Missed having the hands-on day-to-day contact with the food, the people, the purveyors--everything.

  He watched from the office and found himself envying Mae her job. The entire floor
was hers. She had the authority (and the skill it seemed) to step into any station, correct any person or dish, orchestrate the entire ebb and flow of the kitchen. She was the conductor without whom the rhythm of the place would fall into chaos and discord. He fondly remembered the demands of that position and respected anyone who could pull it off, including himself. Frankly, he had more pride in being second in command than he had in being the exalted head honcho.

  He willed himself to concentrate on Uncle Kurt's menus. There were some really brilliant twists and turns on standard, classic favorites. Uncle Kurt knew his way around food, that's for sure. Runs in the family, I suppose, Nick mused. His father's youngest sibling by many, many years, Kurt was more like a brother to Nick than an uncle. Both had learned the culinary trade at Nick's father's knee. Both had also inherited the Gander tendency to go off on wild adventures--the restless spirit that had impelled Nick to make the decision to leave a very cushy job at the San Francisco Elysium and strike out on his own. His father's death the year before had left him bereft and everything in the big hotel kitchen reminded him of that it was his father's legacy that put him there. It seemed the right time to finally go out on his own and open his own little shop. Generations of Ganders had wandered the globe going from one classic old-school hotel kitchen to the next. Nick wanted to be the first to break the mold and go it alone as a chef-owner. He intended to bring his classical training and his world travels together in a rustically elegant bistro. Kurt threw a monkey wrench into his plans when he took off.

  Not that he blamed Kurt for splitting. When Bernadette surfaced in Panama, he had to go find her and at least try to make sense of the relationship that had consumed him for so many years. That memory had tormented Kurt for too many years. No one knew the whole story in the Elysium kitchen and no one would hear it from Nick. Carrying his mother's surname in the Spanish tradition would ensure that there'd be no reason for any of the staff to put two and two together and connect Nick with Kurt. Nick could see the family resemblance, but with his mother's dark hair, he really didn't look like he was related to his tow-headed uncle.

  Wish you'd given me the head's up on the little hottie you had as second in command, Uncle Kurt. I could have avoided what promises to be a very uncomfortable situation. Nick brushed off the thought of Mae. If she can do it, so can you, Nicky-boy.

  ***

  Mae was happy that Nick gave her ample opportunity to avoid him during the dinner service. He stayed mostly in the office while the rush was on. From there he could observe the busy rhythm of the kitchen and assess the team. It made sense that he wanted to spend a little time getting a feel for how they all worked together. But as Mae moved in and out of stations tasting here, correcting a plate there, occasionally pitching in to expedite a large table, she thought she felt Nick's observant hazel eyes follow her every move. She could not kick the feeling of being electrically charged by his proximity and it disturbed her usual composure. All throughout service she was having a raging argument with herself, chiding herself for not being able to treat last night's incident more casually. She was determined to hold her head high and let him know that she would conduct herself in the most professional way, in spite of being anything but the night before.

  When the dinner rush slowed, Nick made his way out of the office and scanned the kitchen. She knew he probably wanted the promised introductions to the staff before everyone started cleaning their stations and shutting down. Mae saw him emerge and stand on the little staircase for a moment. His tall frame wore the impeccable white coat beautifully and the bandana around his head made the classic attire somehow sexier than it might have been. He looked like a pirate chef. She felt her knees weaken at the sight of him in spite of her resolve. She drew herself up as straight as she could manage as he approached her. As he got closer to her, she could feel the current oscillating between their bodies and wondered if he felt it too.

  "Chef Mae, would you be so kind as to introduce me to the staff now?" Nick asked stiffly.

  "I'd be happy to, Chef Nick." She clapped her hands a couple of times. Everyone who wasn't still actively cooking fell silent and turned their total attention on her. "I'd like to introduce you to Nick Seville who will be temporarily taking on the executive role here at the Elysium. I know you will all give him your full cooperation and support as we work through this confusing and difficult time."

  All eyes now on him, Nick flashed his signature grin and Mae tried not to look. "I've been running the Elysium kitchen in San Francisco for many years, so I hope that experience will serve me well here. I think that with the team I've been observing tonight, we can weather this period without too much ill effect." He continued, "I hope I'll be able to add at least a little something of my own in the brief time I'll be in charge here."

  Mae began her introductions with the line cooks and the expeditor working her way down the chain of command all the way to the dishwashers.

  Nick shook hands with each and every worker in the kitchen and had something unique to say to each of them. It was annoyingly obvious that the staff took an instant shine to him. He had none of the typical 'attitude' of superiority that so many highly regarded chefs bring with them to the kitchen. Mae was looking for something to dislike in his demeanor, but found nothing. Normally she scorned the military precision that turned a chef into a commander and usually an asshole. But after the 'pantry girl' crack, his humility struck her as less than genuine.

  "Can we meet first thing in the morning to discuss a few specials I've come up with? I understand from Claude that you haven't had the time to run any this past week."

  "Yes, Chef Nick," Mae bristled, "I haven't had time because I was doing two jobs."

  "I didn't mean to imply..."

  She cut him off. "I normally get into the kitchen around nine. Breakfast service runs well without me. Would nine suit you?" She intended to sound brusk and give him no real option--it wasn't a question, it was more of an order.

  "Nine is fine, Chef Mae."

  ***

  Mae was never so grateful to get back to her quarters as she was that night. That was the longest damn day of my life, she thought. Exhausted, she shed her clothes and made straight for the shower. Experience had taught her that even though it seemed as if she could fall into bed and sleep, she needed a 'wind-down' time before sleep would come. Today especially, when her mind was reeling with thoughts of Nick in the kitchen and Nick in the pool, she had to let the water do its magic and calm her shattered nerves.

  She stood under the hot stream and closed her eyes. She dialed the shower head to pulsating massage and gratefully directed it at the back of her neck and between her shoulder blades. She was tight as a drum. Try as she would to ignore it, there was also a delicious ache between her legs where sex had bruised her ever so slightly. The way they had ground themselves into each other, Mae wasn't surprised to be sore. Even the insides of her thighs felt like she had been exercising them--and she had--spreading her legs as far as she could make them go.

  Revisiting the passion made her clit start to twitch and she aimed the pulsing water there for a guaranteed quick release. She got off with lightening speed most of the time when she used the shower wand. She found it better than a vibrator as she could really control the pressure and the warmth of the water added a nice glow. Tonight, though, she was fighting herself. Unwilling to fantasize with Nick as her fuck partner had Mae engaged in the ultimately futile attempt to block out all faces and just imagine a disembodied cock. It wasn't working. Nick's face, Nick's chest, Nick's mouth, Nick's voice--all kept intruding--until she had no choice but to accept that he, and he alone, was going to be the author of her sweet orgasm tonight.

  She surrendered and her mind's eye watched him bury his mouth in her pussy and suck her clit until it spasmed. Bingo. Orgasm number one.

  She played her mind-movie as she rode him hard, impaling her hole with his rod and felt the fire of male desire singe her. Bingo. Orgasm number two.

  She l
et the action heat up as she pictured the head of his cock sliding up and down the crack of her ass teasing her puckered hole as he pumped his hot spunk out onto her cheeks. Bingo. Orgasm number three.

  Spent, she could take this very effective fantasy no further. She felt unsettled and embarrassed at the flight of her imagination. That her mind wandered so willingly where she desperately wished it wouldn't spoke to some primal flaw in her psyche. She wrapped her robe around her and fell across her bed face down. She wanted to cry, but tears only teased her tired eyes and refused to fall.

  Fitful sleep finally came to her around midnight. She tossed and turned and woke a dozen times anxious and uneasy from unremembered dreams she was sure starred Nick Seville. At six she could fight it no longer and resigned to face her day with as much stoicism as she could muster. She plaited her coffee-colored hair into a thick braid that she twisted into a chignon at the base of her neck and observed her reflection in the mirror. Her brilliant blue eyes didn't seem as tired as she felt. Her pale skin was as creamy and smooth as it had ever been. Satisfied that she did not, in fact, have "I'm lusting after the boss" tattooed on her forehead, Mae donned her chef's jacket. Her hands did shake ever so slightly as she pushed the black studs through the double-breasted coat, but she steadied herself by the time she'd put them all in.

  The kitchen was humming when she reached it. She grabbed a cup of coffee and one of the Elys's excellent Danish and slipped into her little corner that served as a quasi-office space. Here she could check the minimal paperwork she was normally responsible for and spend precious minutes planning out the day's tasks. Breakfast service was hectic but rarely held any crisis or surprise. Guests in the dining room ate from the buffet which had an omelet station and a waffle station. Room service was the biggest demand at the breakfast service, but the cooks easily handled the rush.