by Lila Moore
“Didn’t you hear me knocking?” he asked.
“No. I was asleep.”
“Did you sleep all day?”
I nodded. He pushed his way inside my apartment. He looked around at the unmade bed and cramped living quarters. There was nowhere for him to sit so he stood in the middle of the room.
“You’ve been crying.”
“No, I haven’t,” I lied. “I just woke up, that’s all.” He frowned, clearly not believing me. “I’ve never been fired before,” I added lamely.
“Whoever said you were fired?”
I stared at him in disbelief. “You did.”
“I told you to go home. I didn’t say you were fired.”
I wanted to hit him. I’d been through hell all day, thinking my career, my dreams were gone.
“Roche, did you leave your station unsupervised at any time today?”
His question caught me off guard. Was this a test? “I don’t think so.”
“You don’t know?”
“I… well, no.”
His frown deepened. “It must have happened in the freezer then.”
“What?”
“Someone poured old oyster water into your sauce.”
“What? Why would someone do that?”
“Because they want your job. The only way they can have your job is if they get rid of you.”
I breathed a sigh of relief. “I didn’t screw up.”
“Well, I wouldn’t go that far.”
“You just said someone is trying to sabotage me. How is this my fault?”
“You should have tasted the sauce before you put it on the plate. It never should have been served to the customers.”
I couldn’t argue with him. I got cocky and it almost cost me my job.
“You’re right. It won’t happen again,” I said, hoping I would get a second chance.
“Have you eaten?” he asked.
“No, I’ve been asleep.”
I was met with a disapproving look. He took off his leather jacket and tossed it onto my bed. Beneath he wore a skin tight black shirt that hugged his muscles perfectly. Where did he find time to work out? He practically lived at the restaurant.
He opened my refrigerator and bent over to look inside. “Christ, Roche, how do you survive with nothing but frozen pizzas, string cheese and ranch dressing?”
“I haven’t had time to go to the store lately.”
“You call yourself a chef?”
He meant it as a joke, but after the day I’d had I didn’t much feel like laughing. He pulled out his cell phone and quickly made a call. “Yeah, it’s me. I’m at-” He turned to me. “What’s your address?” He repeated what I told him into the phone. “Bring me whatever is the freshest. Yeah. A bit of everything.” He hung up without saying goodbye.
“Who was that? A takeout place?”
“Takeout?” he scoffed. “You need a home cooked meal. That was my grocer. He’ll have his guy deliver the essentials.”
“Oh, thanks.”
“Don’t worry about it. I’ll cook you a meal. You’ll feel better and be ready for work tomorrow.”
I couldn’t help smiling. I had one of the best chefs in the world in my apartment, personally cooking for me. Celebrities paid tens of thousands of dollars for private meals prepared by Moreau. I was getting him for free.
“Try and relax. I was only trying to toughen you up today. I wasn’t trying to hurt your feelings.”
“That almost sounded like an apology.”
“It wasn’t,” he said, clearing his throat. “Even knowing what I know now, it was right to send you home for the day. You need to toughen up. This will make you stronger.”
“I don’t feel stronger,” I replied pathetically.
“You will tomorrow.”
He placed his hand on my back then slid it down till it rested on my hip. The room suddenly felt very small. His body was extremely close to mine. I looked up into his eyes. There was a spark between us. If he leaned down to kiss me, I wouldn’t stop him.
“Why don’t you have a seat? Let me cook for you. Just relax. Okay?” He went to the door. “I’ll go meet the delivery boy downstairs. I’ll be right back.”
I nodded. Why was he being so nice to me? He didn’t seem like the kind of guy who’d turn down an opportunity to get laid, and yet here he was acting like a gentleman. Maybe I’d judged him incorrectly?
Moreau
I had to get out of Roche’s apartment and catch my breath. She wasn’t wearing a bra and her top was almost completely see-through. Her perky breasts and nipples were making me hard. The way she stared at me like a wounded animal made me feel like a monster though. Had I really been so horrible to her? I treated her like any other chef that enters my kitchen.
I wanted her to be the best; in turn my restaurant would be the best. Eventually she’d leave with the tools she’d learned from working with me and start her own restaurant. Everyone wins. So why did I feel like a bastard?
I stood out in the cold and waited for the delivery boy to bring the food. The cold was exactly what I needed. My blood was running hot. It cooled me down. I was going to have to keep my wits about me around Roche. She was stunning, talented and sensitive. I didn’t want to hurt her any more than I already had.
I heard a bicycle coming. I turned to find the delivery boy with a stack of groceries in the basket of his bike. He handed them off to me. I gave him a hundred dollar tip. His eyes went wide at the sight of the money. I started out working as a server. I know how hard it to survive on tips that’s why I always over-tip.
“Thanks!”
“No problem. Stay safe.”
I took the bag of groceries back upstairs. Inside, Roche had changed clothes. She was wearing a long, tight black dress that hugged her curves and swept across the floor. She still wasn’t wearing a bra. Her perky nipples were an invitation that was hard to ignore.
“You look stunning,” I said without thinking.
Her cheeks turned red and she looked down at her feet. I meant every word of what I said-she was breathtaking-but I was troubled by how surprised she was to receive a compliment from me. She must have really thought I was an asshole.
I turned away and started to lay the ingredients out on the kitchen counter. The bag was full of fresh vegetables, prawns and herbs. I smelled the herbs, then held them out to Roche. She leaned in and took a deep breath. Her eyes closed and she smiled.
“Basil,” she said. “What are you going to make?”
“Prawns with butter and herbs, roasted vegetables and whatever else I can manage.”
“Sounds good. Of course everything you make is good. I wasn’t trying to imply you’re not a good chef, or-”
“Roche, you’re rambling.”
“Sorry,” she said, averting her gaze down to her feet again.
“I’m being an asshole, aren’t I?”
“No. I’m just nervous.”
“Why do I make you nervous?”
For the first time in my life, I actually cared. People have always hated me or been jealous of my success. I always shrugged it off and continued on with life. As long as I was doing well, who cared about the critics? I couldn’t get Roche out of my head though. I didn’t want her to hate me.
“It’s been a long day,” she replied.
I could tell she was holding back. She was afraid I’d punish her if she was honest with me. I turned my back and started to prepare the vegetables.
“You can be honest with me. I want you to be honest with me. God hates a coward.” I spoke lightly, as if it was no big deal, but I was terrified of what she’d tell me. This was a new sensation for me. I’m never nervous around girls, nor do I particularly care about the feelings of my chefs. All I care about is their performance. As long as they do their job, they can think whatever they want about me.
“You’re the greatest chef in the world,” Roche said. “It’s intimidating to work with you. I don’t want to disappoint you.”
“You haven’t disappointed me.”
“But today…”
“Well, you’re right. Today was disappointing on a number of levels. You screwed up, but it happens. You learned your lesson. When I find the person who sabotaged you, I’m going to make sure they never work in this business again.”
“You really think someone did it on purpose? What if it was an accident?”
I glanced at her over my shoulder, expecting to see a sarcastic look on her face. She had a wide-eyed, concerned look about her. Roche’s sincerity could be disarming. She really wanted to believe the best about people-the best about anyone who wasn’t me, anyway. She was convinced I was a tyrant.
“People can be vicious in this business. You shouldn’t be so trusting. There’s no doubt in my mind that it was intentional. This isn’t the sort of thing that happens accidentally. After I’m done with the bastard, the only job he’ll be able to get is flipping burgers at McDonald’s.”
At that, Roche smiled. I was relieved she wouldn’t try to talk me out of punishing the saboteur. I put some butter and garlic in a pan and lit the stove. It didn’t put out much heat. Roche’s apartment needed a lot of work.
“You should really get out of this neighborhood,” I said, hoping she wouldn’t bite my head off about being poor again. She was paid well, but living in the city is expensive.
“What’s the point in throwing my money away on rent? I practically live at the restaurant. Besides, I’m saving up.”
“For what?”
“To start my own restaurant.”
I glanced at her over my shoulder. I recognized the look in her eye. It was the same hunger that drove me when I was starting out. I was determined to succeed no matter what. Roche had the same fire inside her.
“How much have you saved? If you open a restaurant now you’ll be younger than me when I opened my first place.”
“I’ve got a long ways to go,” she admitted. “But I’ll get there.”
“Of course you will. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.”
She perked up a bit and ventured into the kitchen. She kept her distance as if she was afraid I might bite. She watched me toss the prawns in the butter while roasting the vegetables on a separate burner. I poured butter, white wine and herbs into a second pan and started to make a sauce. Her critical eye followed my every move. I couldn’t tell if she was watching for a mistake, or trying to memorize my moves so she could replicate them herself. Probably both.
“You’re fast with your hands,” she said.
“I’m used to working with a skeleton crew. It wasn’t until recently that I had a big kitchen staff. I had to work quickly in the early days to keep up with demand.”
I opened the cabinets and pulled out two plates. I plated the roasted vegetables first, then the prawns and sauce. Roche pulled out two forks and handed me one. There was nowhere to sit in her tiny studio apartment except on the bed.
Roche sat down on the corner of the mattress. I tried to give her space. She was already so jumpy around me I didn’t want to scare her away. I sat a couple feet away, but under my weight the mattress bowed causing Roche to slide towards me. She smiled and mumbled an apology as our body’s crashed together.
I watched her face as she dug into my dish. Her eyes closed as she chewed the prawn.
“Oh my God…” she said.
“Good?”
“How can you bring out so much flavor with only a few simple ingredients?”
“Magic. Keep eating.”
She took a bite of roasted asparagus and smiled. From then on, she was so focused on eating she barely spoke. It was one of the best compliments you can give a chef. When we finished, I took her plate and put them in the sink. I started to clean up, but she stopped me.
“You don’t have to do that. I’ll take care of the dishes.”
“Nonsense. Relax. I’ll take care of the mess.”
“No, really. I’ll do it,” she protested. She put her hand over mine, stopping me from scrubbing the plates. For a moment our eyes met. Her hand lingered over mine.
“Your skin is like velvet,” I blurted out. “That’s rare in a chef.” We’re usually covered in burns or cuts.
“I try to take care of myself,” she said weakly.
She stepped back and let me finish with the dishes. I took my time cleaning them. The situation made me nervous. I had to get a grip. When I was finished, I turned to Roche. She sat on the edge of her bed, her legs crossed beneath her. She leaned back, propping her chest out. I tried to keep my eyes on her face. It wasn’t easy.
“Get some rest tonight,” I said. “I expect to see you early tomorrow.”
I should have turned and left, but I couldn’t make myself move. Suddenly Roche was before me, barefoot and tiny. I could smell her hair, fresh and sweet like coconut.
“Don’t forget your jacket,” she said, handing it to me.
I didn’t take it from her. Her eyes pulled me in like a magnet. I leaned down and kissed her. I should have walked away, but her lips were so soft and full. My hand slid around her waist and I pulled her to me. This was going to be a long night.
Beatrix
My body melted into his. I rested my hand on his chest. I wanted to explore his body with my fingertips, but his kiss left me frozen. Suddenly, he took his jacket away from me. I’d forgotten I was holding it. He tossed it away, throwing it blindly.
His hand slid around the small of my back as he led me to the bed. I laid down while he undressed me. He pulled the straps of my dress free then slid it off. I wasn’t wearing underwear. I squirmed shyly. Being naked in front of a man for the first time can leave you feeling so vulnerable. Did he like my body? Did he notice that I had cellulite on the back of my thighs? Or that my stomach wasn’t perfectly toned?
Moreau leaned over me. He kissed my stomach. My body started to quiver. His kiss breathed life into me. I sighed as a tremor shook me. His soft lips explored my breasts.
“Your skin is like velvet,” he whispered.
He left a trail of kisses up my neck before finding my mouth. I bit his lip playfully as we kissed. I could have spent all night kissing him, but I wanted to see him naked. I pulled at his shirt. It was a tight fit. I was barely able to remove it without ripping it.
I wasn’t disappointed with what I found beneath. Tight muscles flexed beneath my touch. I ran my fingertips over his abs and watched his muscles tense. His reaction made me smile. Did he find my touch ticklish? No; it turned him on.
I slowly unzipped his pants and slid my hand around his cock. He had to stop kissing me to gasp. His cock became rock hard in my hand as I slowly stroked him. A simple touch can wield so much power. Watching him breathe hard through eyes gone hazy with desire turned me on in ways I didn’t know how to express.
Then Moreau was pinning my arms above my head and kicking off his boots and jeans. He ran his hands down my arms as he kissed my chest. I arched my back as his tongue snaked around my nipple.
Thick and pulsing with desire he entered me slowly. My pussy stretched around his cock as he started to slide in and out of me. He moved slowly at first. I could feel the tension in his body. It took a lot of willpower for him not to fuck me hard. He was practicing restraint, but why?
My cry echoed through the room as he lifted my hips and drove his cock deeper. Something changed. He penetrated me at just the right angle, hitting my g-spot. It was like a switch had been flipped inside me. I panted and cried out. Tremors echoed around deep inside me.
Moreau groaned in my ear. The sound drove me wild. His voice was so deep and rough. It was animalistic with desire and yet he managed to stay in control. What would happen if he let the beast inside him off its chain?
I kissed his neck and found myself biting his ear. I’m not normally this aggressive. There was something about the deep rattle of his moans that brought a ravenous hunger out in me.
Moreau stared into my eyes as he fucked me in quick bursts of energy. He was l
osing control. I cried out even louder. I wanted to see what happened when Moreau was unchained. I wanted to be ravaged by him.
Moreau
When my cock slid inside her it was like coming home. Her pussy was so tight, wet and warm. The more I fucked her, the stronger her orgasm became. I could feel her pussy pulsing quickly around my cock. It was a mad, rhythmic beat. I could barely control myself.
The tighter her pussy locked onto me the harder it was not to cum.
Roche was gorgeous naked; her firm breasts and tiny, cherry nipples were perky; her stomach and ass were soft. I could spend all night pleasuring her. I was doing everything I could not to cum. I wanted to make sure she got off. Her pleasure was most important.
I pumped into her slowly. I tried to control myself, but it wasn’t easy. My strokes came in slow, liquid movements. Her eyes were half-lidded, her mouth open. She threw her head back and let out a scream loud enough to wake the neighbors. It was music to my ears.
I knew I couldn’t hold out much longer, so I flipped her over and pulled her up onto her hands and knees. Doggy style was my favorite position. When I fucked a girl from this position, it gave me control. I could move her around and get take her exactly as I wanted. Also, it gave me the perfect angle to hit her g-spot.
I grabbed Roche’s hips and drove my cock inside her. She arched her back, causing the little dimples just above her ass to deepen. What is it about a woman’s lower back? It drives me wild.
I fucked her quickly. There was no point in taking my time now. I was on the verge of cumming. I wouldn’t last much longer. Roche looked at me over her shoulder and bit her lip. That look… I could barely stand it.
I pulled her hips towards me, pumping into her faster. Her pussy pulsed maddeningly around my cock. She was so wet and tight that I couldn’t stand it any longer. I positioned her body so I could hit her g-spot. I managed two more strokes into her before cumming.
Roche came at almost the exact moment. I filled her almost completely with my seed. I withdrew and watched as she fell down onto the bed. Cum dripped out of her down her leg. I tried to catch my breath, then I jumped up and grabbed a towel from her bathroom. I came back to find her lying where I’d left her. Her chest rose and fell quickly; her skin was flushed.
