by May, Lana N.
The steaks weren’t perfect, but Clarissa’s lipstick was.
“Well,” she admitted, “not as good as I had imagined it, but at least I tried.”
The rubbery steaks didn’t bother Thomas. Oblivious to Clarissa’s dinner plans, he’d already eaten at the office and wasn’t really hungry. But Clarissa had made an effort, and he appreciated that. Besides, in that dress, she looked good enough to eat. He kissed her passionately on body parts that the dress seductively exposed.
“Forget about the food,” she said. “Come with me. I have a surprise under my dress.”
Aroused, Thomas followed Clarissa straight into the bedroom.
Daniel and Johanna headed to a nearby wine bar and found seats in a dim corner.
“I like to come here in the evenings and read,” he told her as he proudly showed her his bar.
It was quite a cozy place: one of these bars you could get lost in and that would always be too small and quirky to attract the notice of tourist guidebooks. The wine bar had few seats but offered a wide variety of domestic and imported wines; you could even bring your own food, and the wine steward—a true connoisseur and lover of the grape—took much pride in zealously making personalized recommendations to each guest. He advised Daniel and Johanna, serving them a traditional Austrian Zweigelt from Burgenland.
Could the evening be more perfect? Johanna wondered as Daniel looked deeply into her eyes and kissed her.
Thomas tenderly stroked Clarissa’s hair. They were deeply satisfied, soaked in sweat, and exhausted. The sex had been breathtakingly intense and mutually satisfying.
“I love you,” Thomas said earnestly as he considered being married to Clarissa.
That evening, Clarissa had shown how much she loved him. He could live with the fact that she could be difficult sometimes, but at its core, he felt their love was authentic. Moreover, the sex was terrific. Thomas truly appreciated that, since he wasn’t exactly inexperienced in that respect. He’d had other shorter-term relationships in the past, and his ex-girlfriends were all pretty, but the sex he had with them couldn’t compare with what he had with Clarissa. She knew how to touch him, where his erogenous zones were; she knew when to be wild or tender. Only she could stimulate him in a way that made it almost impossible for him to refuse. Yes, he should definitely consider marrying her. However, that didn’t necessarily mean that he would be racing out to Tiffany’s for an engagement ring any time soon.
Like a gentleman, Daniel escorted Johanna home.
“We should do this again soon,” he said as the taxi pulled up in front of Martin’s apartment.
“Yes, absolutely!”
He looked at her. “May I come in?”
Johanna was aghast. “Ah, um, no, not right now.”
Then he looked appalled. He nodded as if he’d been gravely offended. He kissed her good-bye—on the cheek. Johanna felt her irritation growing. She thought she would at least get a kiss on the mouth. She was sure he’d done that deliberately. She wanted to take her time because, after all, she had very little experience with men. She’d only had sex a few times before, and it hadn’t exactly been the best experience in the world for her—quite the contrary. She’d felt dirty, uncomfortable, and always had the urge to wash herself and the bedding afterward.
9
Daylight broke through the dark curtains as Thomas embraced Clarissa. One arm lay over her right breast; the other was under her back, gently snuggling up next to her protruding vertebrae. She liked his athletic body and cuddling with him after he came home from an intense workout. She found the veins in his arms and hands masculine and sexy; she liked to stroke them gently. He was sensitive about the protruding veins, though, and hated when people noticed them.
After a few minutes, Clarissa looked at the clock and whispered into his ear, “I’m going to the Power Plate gym.” She climbed out of bed and slipped her Victoria’s Secret underwear on.
“That’s fine,” he said sleepily, rolling onto his side. He wasn’t the least bit interested in getting up so quickly.
The next morning, Johanna told her brother about her date. Linda listened intently, too, eyes wide open with interest; she didn’t even go to the bathroom, though she really needed to. Linda and Martin began to analyze her date in detail, although they didn’t agree on all aspects. Johanna gave up listening after a while and went to take a shower. Her brother and his girlfriend remained seated, intent on analyzing Johanna’s date even further.
The days went by in a flash. There was no word from Daniel, and Johanna found herself missing him. She would have liked to contact him, but since he didn’t try to contact her, there was no way she was going to be the one to reach out again.
Clarissa flew her perfect butt to the New York modeling job she’d been going on about. Thomas was happy to have a little more time for himself. Besides, he had the cooking class the following evening; he was looking forward to it so much he’d circled the date in red on his calendar. He wanted to finally learn how to make a proper Viennese cutlet. He called his friend Martin to ask whether he’d like to accompany him in Clarissa’s absence.
“Unfortunately, I can’t make it.”
“Why? No time? You don’t want to get in touch with your inner chef?”
“No, I’m going to a musical with Linda. We already have tickets.”
“Ah . . . that’s a shame. Well . . .”
“Wait, which cooking school are you going to? My sister works at one of those places now . . .”
“Just a sec, Martin. My secretary just brought me something. I’ll call you back.”
“No, it’s okay. I have a meeting soon anyway.”
Johanna arrived at the cooking school for her first shift and put her chef’s outfit on. It was way too big, boxy, and unsexy, but she wore her new uniform with pride. What could she do about it now anyway? Probably nothing.
“Well,” said the assistant, “this is the smallest adult size available; we’ll need to order a children’s size for you.”
Were there children who knew how to prepare venison, rabbit, or other types of game? Johanna wondered as she crammed the oversized chef’s jacket into her waistband.
The assistant shook her head at the strange woman and gave her a full tour of the school. She explained all the ins and outs of working at the school and showed her where the toilets were, noting that one of the toilets didn’t flush well and that it would be better if she would relieve herself of her “larger business” at home. Johanna seriously doubted that they explained that to their customers.
She followed the assistant, Gina, into the so-called “cooking studio,” a smaller space where Gina said Johanna would be spending a lot of time in the near future. She liked this little studio; its atmosphere was warm and light. The friendly ambiance was accentuated by the black cooking island. It was stylish and elegant, but not over-the-top. There were ten workspaces fully equipped with all the state-of-the-art kitchen accessories, probably ordered out of one of the latest gourmet supply catalogs.
Someone flung open the door, and Chef Geyer appeared in the room.
“So great to have you here, Johanna! I see that Gina’s shown you your workstation. You’ll be working here as a chef’s apprentice—oh, what am I saying.” She smiled. “I always say ‘chef’s apprentice’ when I really mean a cooking-course assistant . . .” The chef took a step toward Johanna and continued, “You will provide our clients with utensils and ingredients.”
She patted Johanna lightly on the hand, which displeased shy Johanna, who didn’t know if she could get used to a boss who touched her so unselfconsciously.
“I see the cook’s uniform doesn’t fit you. This won’t do at all. You definitely need a child’s size, but it’s no problem, we’ll order one. Gina will take care of it.”
With that, the chef lifted her eyebrow in the direction of her assistant and cleared her
throat, as if this was some sort of immensely important undertaking. It was obvious from her cough and the yellow pointer finger on her right hand that the chef was a dedicated smoker. Wherever she went, she brought a fragrant cloud with her—a tart blend of perfume, perhaps Opium or maybe Samsara by Guerlain, and Marlboro Lights. The end result would no doubt horrify any perfumer.
“Paolo should be in soon, my child. He’s steadfastly gay and quite handsome. A lot of women have tried to hit on him . . . in vain,” she said, and then she and her cloud of fragrance disappeared from the small cooking studio.
“Yes, he is,” added Gina. “He’s very sweet, but sometimes a bit bitchy. You’ll be able to form your own opinion when you meet him. In any case, he’s the real boss here, no one else, you understand? He will not allow himself to be interrupted or corrected, so do what he says and never question his art. Take my advice, and you should get along with him fine. Like I said, he really can be very sweet.”
Then Gina disappeared. Johanna timidly stood in the kitchen in her ill-fitting chef’s outfit. She didn’t dare touch anything, worried she might break it. She felt like she should do a little work, but she had no idea what she could possibly do. She waited and waited, without making a peep or moving a muscle. She hardly trusted herself to breathe.
A few minutes later, Paolo swept in, bringing a flowery scent of violets with him.
“Ciao, sweetheart! Well, look at you,” said Paolo as he scrutinized Johanna. “Well, well, we must change this. We can’t create anything beautiful in that outfit. I would be too ashamed of you. No, there’s no way. For today, we’ll just have to hide you amid the flock of students.”
Paolo’s violet cologne smelled so strong he might as well have sprayed it all over the room. Someone needed to tell him to stop after three spritzes; the smell even drowned out Chef Geyer’s. Johanna was glad she didn’t know about this beforehand; she was unusually sensitive to smell and sometimes avoided streetcars and subways for that reason.
“I’m going to get a new uniform.”
“Well, thank God!” he chirped. “So, where have you worked most recently?”
“Do you mean, where have I cooked?”
“Yes, where have you cooked?” he mocked as he pulled a stool up to the counter to assess Johanna as if he were inspecting a piece of fruit for discoloration and blemishes before purchasing it.
“Actually, I don’t have much experience, but I—”
Paolo—whose name was actually Paul but who, for artistically advantageous reasons, wanted to be called Paolo—didn’t let Johanna answer the question. “Then why did they hire you? Doesn’t matter, we’ll see how it goes. Chef Geyer has a flair for finding talent—I mean, look at me!” Paolo brushed off an imaginary piece of lint from his pristine white chef’s outfit, which looked as it had been bleached within an inch of its life each time it was washed.
He was African-American, lively, and lean, with a striking face that he embellished with a bit of blush, mascara, and foundation, as well as some light powder.
How strange for a man, thought Johanna, captivated by the glossy powder. She’d never met a man who wore makeup, but she’d heard about it. Paolo definitely wasn’t a drag queen, though; he was too masculine. She couldn’t decide whether the makeup made him look more handsome, but his eyebrows were shaped to perfection and she wondered about his tweezing secrets. Paolo’s tailored uniform had his initials monogrammed above the left breast pocket. Johanna wondered whether she would ever get a uniform with her initials.
“You can scrutinize me all you want and ask questions. It’s true, I’m a really great chef. I’ve been everywhere. I was the head chef at the Ritz when it was awarded five stars,” he said proudly.
“So why are you working here now?” asked Johanna, but immediately realized that the question came out like, Why are you working in this dump, then? Who takes a job at a cooking school after working in an award-winning restaurant?
“Well, I call it a happy coincidence,” he answered succinctly, and didn’t pursue the topic any further. “A happy coincidence”—what an odd description.
“Let’s get started right away with a Stefanie meatloaf, a puree of leeks, and some creamed peas.” Paolo handed her the leeks before she could say a word.
Maybe the cow’s name was Stefanie, thought Johanna, as she’d never heard of this kind of meatloaf before. But she didn’t want to say anything that might make her sound more ignorant than she already felt.
“How do you want me to cut the leeks?” she asked, trying to be the model student. Paolo took the time to show her and explain everything carefully.
“That’s why,” he said.
“What?”
“That’s why I gave up my restaurant! I love to teach,” he said as he sliced the leeks patiently, seeming very relaxed. They were, as Paolo declared, the “most perfectly cut leeks in the whole world,” fit to be displayed in a museum.
“This is the dish we’ll be cooking tomorrow evening,” he said as he pulled the delicious-smelling ground beef concoction out of the oven.
Tasting it, Johanna realized the dish was something Johanna’s grandmother often served for supper: minced beef with egg. As a child, Johanna had just called it “meat with an egg inside.”
“You did okay for your first time,” said Paolo, smiling broadly.
Johanna looked at the black rings the mascara was leaving around his eyes. Just in case, she rubbed her index finger under her own eyes to prevent the same thing from happening to her mascara.
Thomas had to squeeze a lunch meeting with a client into his busy schedule. He usually delegated client meetings to talented employees who he knew had a good sense for these things, but this time, the client was Martin. The two agreed on the new software implementation within minutes and were able to use the rest of the time to discuss their upcoming plans.
“That soccer game yesterday was a catastrophe.”
“Yeah, it was so bad, I turned it off after halftime.”
“They missed so many shots. Unbelievable!”
The waitress came to their table and asked, “Do you want anything else?”
“A cappuccino, please.” Thomas pushed his empty glass of cola away.
“Yes, one for me, too . . . and another cola,” Martin said.
“How’s Linda? How’s her boutique doing?”
“Really great. She’s thinking about opening up a second location. Running two shops is really hard, though. I’m losing sleep over it. Linda doesn’t know yet whether she wants to take it on.”
“Yeah, that’s a tough call, but if I know her, she’ll make the right decision. She’s got great business sense.”
“Yup. She’s amazing. And Clarissa? How is she?”
“She’s on the road a lot—too much, actually. A lot of things have changed since her career took off.” When the waitress returned with their drinks, Thomas tossed a sugar cube into his cup. “I hope she doesn’t get too famous, or I won’t get to see her at all,” he said, smiling as he took a sip of his cappuccino, decorated with a little cocoa-powder maple leaf, which blurred into the foam as he drank.
“Uh-oh,” Martin teased. “She’s not getting cozy with someone else, is she?”
Martin’s comment didn’t bother Thomas as much as it should have. He found it rather curious that he felt no appreciable feelings of jealousy at the notion of Clarissa with another man.
“No, you dick. And how are things with you and Linda? When are you planning to propose to her?”
“Soon, I think. I love her and I truly feel she’s the one,” Martin gushed as he brought his Coca-Cola bottle to his lips. He pushed aside the unused glass with slices of lemon. “And I want you to be my best man!”
Thomas’s eyes popped wide open. “Really?”
Martin nodded.
“Well then! We’ll need to have a proper bache
lor party, maybe kidnap you and fly somewhere so you’ll have no choice but to participate in everything I set up.” Thomas grinned.
He’d been expecting Martin and Linda to get engaged for a long time because what they had, after all, was rare. Thomas envied them. They were so truly in love.
10
Johanna arrived at the cooking school an hour before her shift officially began. She wanted to start early so that she could get ready for her first evening of cooking in front of students. She didn’t want anything to go wrong, especially since the class was completely full. Paolo arrived two hours later. He was in an especially good mood. He checked all the workstations and praised Johanna because everything was perfectly prepared. His glossy powder sat perfectly atop his cheekbones.
“Well, well, all that’s left is for the clients to arrive. Don’t worry, I’ll do all the talking, and you’ll simply follow my instructions like we practiced here yesterday. Just smile and look pretty like they do in those shows with the beautiful female hostesses.”
“Like in Let’s Make a Deal?” Johanna asked, her silly question inadvertently breaking the ice for them both.
Paolo laughed heartily, then cringed exaggeratedly. “Come on, let’s go have a cup of coffee before they get here.”
Thomas made his way to the cooking school. He was excited about the course and expanding his rather limited range of cooking skills. He hoped the group wouldn’t be too nerdy and wouldn’t be just couples. He was really looking forward to the prospect of meeting some nice people he could get a beer with afterward.
