Appetizer

by Blane Thomas

  “Precision, Corey!” she said, rapping his wrists with a metal spoon.

  “Ow!” Corey yelped, but he was happy. He was actually learning something in the kitchen. Lalitha may not acknowledge the artistic brilliance that was within Keith, but she was a willing teacher. Satisfied, she even let him assembles six plates of the main course.

  While plating, Corey did feel guilty, having to be dishonest. But, he had to do whatever it took to rise up within the ranks of the kitchen. His other classmates were constantly moaning about having to mope the floors and wash the dishes in their first week. But he was here, doing actual work. And he was learning with a pro!

  “You catch on pretty quick,” Lalitha complimented him once all the main courses were served.

  For desserts, the chef and her assistant worked on assembling fifty or so ramekins filled with the gentle, yet wobbly custards, finished off with a bowl-shaped caramel latticework forming its dome. Corey’s eyes were painfully narrowed as he inserted the stalk of a mint leaf through the gap of the sugared lattice. Around the ramekin, Lalitha drizzled syrups into fine grids. Though her work was refined, Corey noticed that each plate had slight differences from each other. To the untrained eye, they may look like twins, but to Corey, it was more fraternal than they were identical.

  When the last dishes were carried off by the servers, Gus came over to Lalitha. The red-haired giant had small light brown stains across his uniform and sleeves. He was slightly messier, his face shiny with sweat from the busier day. It was harder to prepare steaks, Corey admitted.

  “Want to go out for a smoke?” Gus asked Corey. “We have a bit of time off. Keith is usually on standby inside here in case Ryan needs anything.”

  Corey declined gratefully. “I’d like to get used to the layout of the kitchen actually. Will that be okay?” he asked their permission.

  Gus smiled wickedly. “We have a game we like to play with all the interns here!”

  “Oh, Gus, lay off Corey.” Lalitha laughed out. “He’s actually pretty good, not like the other ones we’ve had!”

  Corey beamed at Lalitha’s compliment. Outside, gentle conversation filled the air. It was just as Ryan had said it would be – a full house. But, the chefs in the kitchen could take a breather now, as long as the clients did not complain about the food.

  “C’mon. It’ll be a learning experience!” Gus said, scratching his chin.

  “What is it?”

  “Well, think of it as a treasure hunt,” Gus beamed. “I want you to find seven random things in the kitchen storage unit. Inside the storage room, I’ve hidden miniature, decorative ramekins the size of coins. They’re these really cute ceramic bowls for novelty purposes.”

  Corey was pleasantly amused. Never had he heard of such a game being played, especially in a fine dining restaurant at that.

  “It’s one of those things we do to get interns used to the confusing storage units. The more you rummage around for the miniature ramekins, the more attentive you are. Ryan devised it for all of us to go through. He claims that it makes you memorize the locations of the ingredients easily!”

  “And if you get all seven of the ramekins by today, I’ll promise not to make your life a living hell tomorrow.” Gus grinned.

  Corey did not know whether Gus was serious, or if he were just joking. But he was resolved to memorize everything in the storage unit by today. And if he got on Gus’ good side in the process, all the more better.

  When Lalitha and Gus went out the backdoor for a quick cigarette, Corey walked towards the storage unit. To his right was Keith’s workstation. A quick glance showed that Keith was cooking something, pleasantly unaware that the intern was staring. A sharp, sour smell poked into Corey’s nostrils. He scrunched up his face, but the unpleasantness did not last long. Keith had added other spices quickly, and the sourness became milder, even comforting.

  The fish was almost fried to a point that it was golden brown, and the waft of fragrant butter tantalized Corey’s senses. The storage unit long forgotten, he stood there and watched as Keith’s long fingers held on to the pan. Another finger flicked the end of the spatula, lifting oil and butter and some herbs. Without much thought, Keith licked his finger. Corey intently studied the expression on his face. Typically, a chef’s face expressed how they perceived their food. A prolonged frown meant that they were unhappy with its taste. A frown with a bite of the lip? Perhaps they were pleasantly intrigued. But Keith was a blank slate.

  There was only one difference. When Keith looked at the food he was preparing, there was warmth in the eyes, something that had been devoid when those same pair had fallen upon Corey. Food to Keith was more significant than even the existence of the person. Corey could only look on, captivated by the way the blonde chef sizzled the fish in a mixture of butter and mystery herbs.

  “That smells good,” Corey said, unable to contain himself anymore.

  Keith continued staring at the fish, occasionally shaking the handle to move the oil within the pan. He paid Corey no mind.

  “Hi there,” Corey said, not wanting it to be awkward between them. He wanted to be acquainted to this very man, who both repulsed, yet intrigued him. “I’m Corey Litmann. I’m the new intern!”

  Again, the slight pout of Keith’s lower lip made no desire to move. He continued frying the fish. The only sound he was interested in was the sizzling of the oil. Corey fidgeted awkwardly on his feet. Keith still paid him no attention.

  “Look, I’m sorry I called you an ‘asshole’ earlier,” Corey mumbled. “I was just angry that you crashed into me without an apology.”

  Keith looked up at Corey now. “Don’t you have a storage unit to memorize?” he asked quietly.

  Corey was taken aback. He gulped. “Well, yeah, but I just wanted to introduce myself…”

  “I suggest you go do that then,” Keith answered, turning his gaze back to the fish in the pan. “Don’t waste my time.”

  “I just wanted to introduce myself…,” Corey countered pathetically, but could not bring himself to finish the sentence.

  Putting a stop to the conversation, Keith effortlessly built an invisible wall between himself and Corey. The blonde chef reached for half a lemon and squeezed its juice, causing the pan to crackle loudly.

  Red-faced, Corey had no choice but to back away. Thrice he had been put down by Keith, and he was done. He had tried to be friendly, but Keith was just as Lalitha had said – boorish and callous. He scampered away into the storage unit, keen to put as much distance between himself and Keith as possible. Only when the large metallic door slid shut behind him did Corey take a deep breath. Unlike the humid air of the kitchen, the storage unit was surrounded by cooler, arid temperature. Racks held on to sauce bottles, bags of herbs, fresh produce in gunny sacks to his left. The right emanated the soft blue glow of the freezer unit, housing all the meats marinated for the next meals to come.

  Knowing that a solid door now stood between him and Keith, Corey could breathe a little easier. He could not understand the unfriendly nature exuding out of the talented chef. Though Lalitha proved to be a wise teacher, she did not have the sharp alacrity possessed by Keith’s hands. Corey could still remember how the appetizers had been plated. He had seen nothing like it in culinary arts school. None of his previous teachers and mentors could reach that skill, teeming in perfection.

  “What crawled up his ass?” Corey mumbled to himself. The pain from Keith’s words still burnt his cheeks.

  He tried to distract himself by looking for those miniature ramekins Gus set him out to do. In the process, he got lost in the maze that was the storage unit. With each sauce bottle turned and examined, his mind became less occupied with the blonde chef. Touching the ingredients seemed to absorb whatever negativity that was teeming within him.

  “There’s one!” he cheered silently. A glowing blue ramekin the size of a quarter was gently nestled between two bottles of vinegar. He reached for one, and quickly pocketed it. Time went on, and Corey was
almost done, finding at least six others.

  In that process, he had memorized the location of at least three quarters of all the necessary ingredients. Ryan would be proud of him.

  “Where is the seventh?” he thought to himself.

  Standing in the middle of the narrow storage unit, there was barely enough space for one person to pass through without grazing against the racks or refrigerator. He sat on a wooden crate containing potatoes, almost giving up. Though it was a simple game, Corey hated losing. He had been presented a challenge, and it was not within his nature to lose.

  As if his mind could not be any more frazzled, the door to the storage unit burst open. The silence of the room was now filled with aroma and sounds seeping from the kitchen. Startled, he looked to see Keith walking in his direction.

  “Man this guy should learn how to knock!” Corey thought to himself.

  Keith slowly walked along the narrow pathway. Corey had no choice but to stand up and squeeze his back against the refrigerator. Already, his heart began thumping at the sight of the slightly taller gentleman.

  Corey, back pressed against the cold glass, could only control his wincing. The fabric of his pants absorbed the condensing mist emanating from the machine, which began tickling his mesh protected buttocks. Keith did nothing to alleviate his comfort. The chef nonchalantly turned his body to the side and started to squeeze through the extremely tight pathway. Instead of turning to face the racks, Keith chose instead to face Corey.

  “Oh, shit. Oh, shit!” Corey’s mind raced.

  Slowly, the blonde chef wiggled his shoulder through the small space and their bodies touched. In that cramped space, Keith was almost nose to nose with Corey. He continued shimmying his body sideways, his chest rubbing against the intern’s.

  Corey prayed that Keith’s body could not feel the thumping betrayal of his heart. If Keith could feel it, his face echoed only nonchalance. Their legs abutted each other as he continued wiggling through, using Corey’s body as a soft, squishy cushion. To Corey’s intense embarrassment, he could then feel the generous outward curve of Keith’s bulge pressing against his very own. The mere contact though separated by fabric was enough to make Corey’s cock twitch excitedly.

  There was no way Keith could not have picked up on that. Eyes still locked on to Corey’s, their clothes continued rubbing on each other till he finally made it through to the other side of the room.

  Corey was left in a state of shock. Did Keith do that deliberately to elicit a response? And goddamnit, why did his cock have to respond in such a way?

  Keith hummed a small tune under his breath and reached for a bottle of vinaigrette dressing at the top of the rack. Turning around, he was slightly amused to see Corey still standing there. He lowered his gaze to see the unmistakable tenting on the intern’s pants.

  Unfazed by the scene unfolded before his eyes, Keith clenched the bottle in his right hand and walked over. Reaching the still stunned Corey, the chef pivoted his body to the side and squeezed through the tight space. Once again, bodies pressed brazenly against each other. Keith fixed his dark brown eyes into Corey’s green ones.

  Corey had assumed that Keith would just shimmy past his body and walk out the storage unit without even a glance. To his surprise, the chef stopped when their bodies aligned perfectly against each other. Shoulders parallel, even the slight swells of their pecs were now blatantly pressed against one another. But the most shocking trigger of all was when Keith pushed his hips forward, pressing his crotch into Corey’s.

  It was done subtly. But the graze of Keith’s cock against Corey’s was enough to make the younger intern weak in the knees. His hands were now pressed limply against the wet, cold glass. This was no sexual advance that was being made.

  Corey was no stranger to sex. He had had men approach him in clubs, bars, and one very fine day, a small bookstore tucked between two French pastry shops. Though the people were different, their eyes denoted the same underlying emotion – a carnal desire.

  But this, the way those heavy eyelids lowered to his gibbous eyes, a slight cruel upward curve of his cherry lips – this was dominance. And what was worse, Corey welcomed it. He was uncontrollably aroused by it. When Keith slowly moved his hips, his girth brushed Corey’s member shamelessly. Corey could only quiver and allow his cock to betray his inner senses by hungrily throbbing and twitching at every graze.

  Keith, satisfied by that encounter easily moved out of the way and headed for the storage door. The whole incident had taken a mere thirty seconds, but Corey was almost at the verge of breathlessness by the end of it.

  “F… fuck you,” Corey said, unable to control himself. Trying to muster up a look of pure loathing, he looked at Keith’s retreating back. He hated the fact that he had easily been conquered.

  “I only let strong men fuck me,” Keith quipped coldly. He opened the door of the storage unit, leaving Corey alone in the room.

  Chapter 3

  “Let me get this straight, he dry-humped you?” Anya interjected.

  She poured herself another glass of wine. Legs comfortably up on the sofa, she placed the bottle on the floor in a loud clunk.

  “Well, not exactly a dry-hump,” Corey said. “It was more like, when he squeezed through, he deliberately thrusted his hips forward. It happened so quickly!”

  “You should tell your boss about this guy! That’s some sexual harassment happening right there,” Anya hiccoughed in between a sip. Red patches were already appearing on her pale cheeks. The woman could not handle her alcohol well.

  Corey added some soy sauce to the fried rice. The small apartment smelt like a herb-and-spice market had exploded in there. Thyme intersected with basil, paprika, and oregano. Those with the sharper sense of smell could also detect a hint of turmeric, fennel and cilantro in the air. It was hard being a housemate to a chef-in-training, but Anya loved food just as much as she loved men. Funny, they had both those things in common.

  “I don’t think he sexually harassed me.” Corey bit his lip.

  With expert hands, he scooped the rice into a ceramic bowl and walked over to the small dining table. His hands and shoulders ached from the work he had done for the day. Unused to constantly having to move his hands to peel, cut, dice, julienne, stir, lift, slice and mash, Corey was relieved when he rested his limbs on the table.

  “Rat-face, trust me, you were sexually harassed. He came on to you when you did not want it. That isn’t consensual!” Anya got up from the sofa and swayed slightly. The wine glass was daintily held by her small, thin fingers. “Tell. Your. Boss!”

  Corey merely nodded and scooped some rice onto her plate. Anya planted her butt on the chair in front of him and started eating. Corey had been hungry, but even with the colourful condiments decorating his rice, the urge had passed. All he could think off was the way Keith had stared into his eyes.

  When Anya had gone to bed, Corey cleaned up the table and piled the dishes and bowl in the sink.

  “That can be done tomorrow,” he thought.

  After a quick shower, he laid in bed. Their apartment was on the fifth floor, behind one of the busiest streets in Chicago City. He had gotten used to the dull noises of people screaming at each other. Even the random pounding on the wall, or the lone thuds was something he could sleep through. Light poured through thin slits of the wooden blinds his landlord had unwittingly installed throughout the house. The fan was turned off. It was a chilly night, stronger than it was during the day.

  In that comfortable cacophony Corey had grown accustomed to, a new sound suddenly introduced itself.

  Coming from the unit directly above his, Corey was acquainted to the creaking of the bed. What was more, there was a soft sigh of a woman, followed by the rough grunt of a man. ‘SLAP! SLAP! SLAP’ came the loud pounding of wet skin clapping rhythmically against each other. The creaks first went slowly, and it picked up into a crescendo. The woman’s sigh transformed into hard moans through gritted teeth, as though she did not want t
he pleasure she was receiving to escape through her lips. The man mumbled dirty words as he continued pounding his body into hers, sending the bed into an almost dizzying orchestra of creaks.

  Noisy as it was, the creaks came to an abrupt halt, and so did the pounding and all was back to its usual humdrum.

  The sound of his upstairs neighbours fucking aroused Corey. A hand went down his duvet, slowly creeping under the waistband to find itself a long, thick pole. Holding his cock as he would a bottle of water, his thumb rubbed against the now swollen glands. It revealed the smallest dollop of precum oozing out of the piss slit.

  “Unnhhh.”

  The right hand slowly began its pumping motion. Letting out the smallest of moans, Corey writhed as the bony part of his finger grazed against the sensitive frenulum. With each friction, it made him clench his balls, causing the two small globes to twitch upwards excitedly. His left hand pinched at a nipple, causing his entire back to arch upwards.

  He fantasized about nobody in particular. Flashes of random men he’s hooked up with, celebrity fantasies, even the muscular Indian waiter who works at the deli around the corner. These men changed bodies and faces, yet in his imagination, Corey was kneeling in front of them, their varied lengths and girths of their cocks entering his mouth. He swallowed the pond of saliva collecting at the back of his throat. His index finger and thumb tweezed at the pinkish nipple of his and gave it a rather hard pull.

  “Oh god, oh god,” he moaned. He was almost there. Immediately, the men in his head vanished and was replaced by someone else.

  The naked image of Keith was plastered in his imagination, and it did not want to leave. In Corey’s mind, Keith was leaning against a brick wall, his hands tucked behind the back of Corey’s head. As Corey swallowed the blonde chef’s meat, he looked up to see those cold, piercing brown eyes staring ruthlessly back at him.