by Blane Thomas
“What’s the matter? Am I interrupting something important, chef?” Corey screeched. The last word he stressed out mockingly. “Are you entertaining distinguished guests?”
He walked over proudly to the kitchen in two steps. A warm helping of pasta clung onto the surface of the pan. Though rudimentary, the spaghetti smelt subtly inviting – with a hint of basil and black pepper dancing in his throat. He suddenly realized how hungry he was, having not eaten anything from Theo’s party. Without permission, he ran a finger along the rim of the pan, scooping up a tiny dollop of cream from the pasta and licked it in front of Keith.
It was unsurprisingly delicious. He had to suppress the urge to dip his fingers along the rim a second time for another taste. But, he was determined to put on a façade in front of Keith. Corey began to laugh mirthlessly. He was tickled, but not out of humour, but anger and pity towards Keith.
“You…, do you know,” he struggled between breaths of laughter, “… what’s so funny, Keith?”
“I suspect you are about to tell me,” came Keith’s toneless reply. He stood there, arms folded.
“This…,” Corey pointed out after he had collected his breath. “… is probably the best damn pasta I have ever tasted, Keith. A lot of people, TV producers especially, would kill…, KILL, to have you make it for their cooking shows. Think of the audience you’d reach. Think of the fame! But, your pride forces your art to remain within this cramped room. No one will know your true artistry!”
“I cook for myself, Corey,” Keith said.
“NO! YOU ARE A PRETENTIOUS BOAR!” Corey suddenly yelled. He could not stop the floodgates now. The rage tore through easily, and it rained upon an impassive Keith. “YOU COOK BECAUSE YOU ARE PAID TO DO SO, BY RYAN!”
The blonde chef still stood by the door, his folded arms and emotionless face impervious to Corey’s anger.
“Face it, Keith! You tried to shame me for being a sell-out, for wanting to be famous, but you are just the same! You cook for money, too. Even if that money is used to sustain your pathetic existence, it is still the same. YOU ARE AS MUCH A WHORE AS I AM!”
Corey finished yelling, surprised by the magnitude of anger that spewed from his mouth. They stood there, both unmoving for a while. Keith still had his arms folded, unfazed. He quietly ran a hand along the tangled locks of his blonde hair, letting out a quiet exhale. The look on his face, that aloof canvas, irked Corey. It egged him to hurt Keith more, to elicit a response, but his anger was now gone.
“Is that all then?” Keith asked quietly. “Did you come all the way here to tell me that I am no different from you?”
Corey gulped. He had not thought to have come this far. Crashing into Keith’s house had occurred out of a whim. Standing there, he looked at the chef, only a couple of years older than he. Keith, though perhaps twenty-four or twenty-five, had subtle lines on his angular face, making him look older than he really was.
He hated to admit it, but Corey was turned on by Keith.
“You told me once that you would only get fucked by a stronger man,” Corey began.
Keith’s eyebrows raised, but he said nothing.
“I am more powerful than you, Keith,” Corey said proudly, puffing up his chest. It was a voice which he adopted. Inside, he truly felt terrified, but he could not let Keith know that.
“So?”
“So, I want to fuck you.”
The proclamation reverberated throughout the room, pulling the space between them into a sudden, vacuum-like silence. Air too made no sound. All Corey could now hear was the pounding of blood in his ears. The lump on his throat refused to simmer down, and he daren’t gulp in front of Keith.
To his immense surprise, Keith looked at Corey for a few seconds before beginning to move. He thought Keith was about to kick him out, but amazingly, Keith began to close the front door, which he then locked with an audible click. It plunged the whole room into darkness once more. The tiniest sliver of light oozed in through the window, illuminating only the faint silhouette of Keith’s body. He could discern Keith’s long, pale, white fingers slowly lifting his shirt off his body. The grey sweatpants came off next, dropping onto the floor in a tangled mound around his feet. Keith stood naked in front of Corey now, his arms rigidly to the side as though waiting to be inspected. Corey did not wait for his own body to be naked, hungrily descending upon Keith, eager in his quest to conquer the other.
Chapter 16
The Trainyard was surprised by the news. It manifested itself first as a euphoric gasp from Lalitha. Gus too had a satisfied smirk on his face. Even Ryan, whose emotions were usually reined in, struggled to contain the upper curl that was forming upon his lips.
Keith had quit.
“Did he say why?” Gus asked, unable to contain the glee in his voice.
Ryan held the note up to the light and squinted his eyes. Like an appraiser trying to detect forgery in a letter, he studied its contents intently. From where Corey stood, he knew that the note was not a fake. Keith’s easily recognizable writing was scrawled across the note. Plenty of times he had seen those very letters forming recipes on his notepad.
He had to suppress the urge to grab the note from Ryan’s hand and hold on to it like a protective talisman.
“Nope,” Ryan said. “It just says here that he’s had enough and that he is leaving.”
“Ha! HE has had enough? That bastard made it difficult for us for two years, and he has the audacity to throw in the towel first?” Lalitha seethed with grim satisfaction. “Told you Keith was a wuss, didn’t I? Told you he wouldn’t be able to work alone!”
The executive chef gave out a sigh and crumpled up the paper in front of the other three. He then made a pompous show of throwing the ball into the waste bin. When it went in smoothly, Gus and Lalitha clapped and cheered. Only Corey stood there, still at a loss for words. When everyone else had gone off to their workstation, he fished the paper out of the bin and unfurled it.
Just as Ryan had quoted it, the paper bore no other messages. Corey did not understand Keith’s motives.
Chapter 17
He had spent the night at Keith’s place two nights ago. And yesterday had been their day off. Keith had not mentioned anything about quitting. Then again, after they had had sex, Keith barely said anything to Corey. He had lied to his side, facing away from Corey, bent inwards in a foetal position. They had not cuddled. Corey had tried to slid a hand over Keith’s waist, but even this had been coldly flicked away.
Keith had lied there, curled up, naked, the most vulnerable Corey had ever seen him. It was as though he had wanted to be seen in this form – defeated, hollow, vulnerable, but not wanting any offer of sympathy or support from the world.
In the morning, Corey had gotten up quietly to dress. He took his time, appreciating the nudeness of Keith’s bare back. Uneven protrusions of his backbones formed tiny bumps along his otherwise pale, smooth skin. Just a small tuft of hair grew coarsely along the small of Keith’s back, catching the morning light, glowing in a golden-brown hue. His right buttock, did not shiver nor move in the cold air. An iridescent, yet angry red mark was visible there where Corey had given it a good slap during last night’s fuck.
As he walked to the kitchen, he turned to look at Keith. Though still on his side, Keith’s eyes were wide open, though partially obscured by the tangles of his messy hair.
“Uhh…”
“Don’t ruin the moment,” Keith whispered softly. There was a tinge of sweetness in his voice, pure, yet also extremely cynical.
Corey gulped. He tried to find the right words to say. “Listen, about last night, I didn’t mean anything I said…,” Corey began. “… about you being a whore and working for the money.”
“I don’t need your apology,” Keith replied bluntly. His body curved into its linear form once more, and he stretched like a cat, content, yet brooding.
“But I never meant what I said last night, and I can understand why you are annoyed with me,” Corey trie
d again. “I don’t want you to think that I am a sell-out, or that all I want is fame and recognition. This attention, it all just fell onto my lap, Keith! I never asked for it!”
“You were hungry for it, Corey. Do not try to hide the stink of your ambition with a flaccid apology. It’s extremely common.”
Corey was struck by the intensity of Keith’s words. Soundlessly, he got up and headed for the door. The throbbing of his cock had long subsided, having releases its two-week reserves deep into Keith’s willing body. The first, heaviest spurts went deep into Keith’s bowels, but on two separate occasions throughout the night, Keith had hungrily swallowed it. Corey watched how the other chef’s tongue and lips formed a cup, greedily drinking that which came out of him.
Corey had stood by the door, ashamed, guilty. He did not feel like he had conquered Keith like he meant to. If anything, he felt defeated. His cum was inside Keith, but he felt like he was the one who had been subjugated, as if he was the one who had ‘received.’
All Keith had said when Corey opened the door was, “I hope you have the strength of mind and character for what they have in store for you.”
Corey did not dare to ask Keith who ‘they’ were or what they had in store for him. He walked out the door, and that was the last he had heard of Keith, until two days later, in the form of his resignation letter.
Chapter 18
“It’s because of you, Corey! You drove Keith out!” Lalitha clapped her hands.
“Yeah, man. Keith couldn’t handle the success you were getting. He thought he was the better chef until you came and easily put him in his place.”
“Sore loser!” Lalitha laughed.
Corey could only nod and smiled wordlessly though inside he was hiding an extreme fear. And it made him scared because it sounded like Keith had given him a warning for what was to happen in the future.
Chapter 19
Though the Trainyard was back to operating with three chefs, no one but Corey missed Keith’s presence. Even the usual tension on Ryan’s shoulders were gone when he came to oversee the preparations for their lunch hour. He laughed more easily with them. Gus, Lalitha and Corey worked well together. Each chef was often given their responsibilities, but neither one wavered from helping the other when it was requested. The dishes they put forth was not wholly, Corey’s, Gus’ or Lalitha’s; it exuded a confluence of minds, merged onto the plate.
Corey’s fame did not stop there, either. He was soon invited to star in a television cooking competition. Fippo Studios had launched its latest reality TV competition – “Househusband Chefs!” where run-of-the-mill men who chose to be stay-at-home dads competed for a cash prize of sixty thousand dollars by surviving elimination every week.
During the quarter final round of the show, Corey had been called in to judge the contestants’ dishes. It was his first time being in front of the camera, but as the executive producer put it, Corey was born to be on television.
“You were a complete natural!” the executive producer said. His name was Kimpton. Flamboyantly dressed in a tight, peach suit, Kimpton was extremely lanky, and his features were blunted from too much fillers on his face. He looked like a puffer fish when he smiled, and he often had an eerie grin when Corey sat next to him. When no one was looking, Kimpton would find every opportunity to wrap his tentacle-like fingers around Corey’s body.
Corey tried his best not to squirm under Kimpton’s touches. This man was the main executive producer that oversaw all the reality TV competitions under Fippo Studios. Offending him could spell doom for any future opportunities for Corey.
“So, are you having fun?” Kimpton leered, his hand delicately wrapping itself around Corey’s lean thigh. The cameras had stopped rolling and they were all having a break.
Corey laughed nervously, patting Kimpton’s hand on his thigh, trying to pass it off as a friendly slide. But Kimpton was unrelenting. His hand was firmly anchored onto Corey’s leg pant like a barnacle that did not want to let go.
“Yeah, I am. Thank you, thank you for the invitation, Kimpton!” Corey managed without showing any revulsion towards the older man. “I was surprised, that of all the chefs in the city, you chose to call me!”
“Oh, baby,” Kimpton leaned in and pressed his bony shoulder against Corey’s. The smell of his strong perfume was too much for the young man to bear. “You came highly recommended by Theo. He said that you had the face for TV and was ‘perfection.’ At first, I thought Theo was kidding, but now that I see you, I have to admit, Theo’s description does not do you justice at all!”
Corey forced out a small, polite laugh as he tried his best to politely push Kimpton away. The smell of the executive producer’s fragrance, coupled by his actions, were making him revolted. He was also aware the cameramen, director, assistants and makeup artists were paying close attention to what was going on, but none of them seem too unfazed. It was clear that Kimpton’s behaviour was nothing strange to them.
“That was very nice of Theo to recommend me,” Corey said softly.
“Oh, there he is!” Kimpton said gaily. “Theo! Theo! Over here!”
The peach-suited man waved excitedly at the opposite end of the room. Corey was relieved to find Kimpton distracted. He took that opportunity to distance himself by a few inches when Kimpton was not looking, his eyes latched onto where Kimpton’s were. He saw the hulking figure with his pouted lips. The familiar profile of Theo Devereux never disappointed eyes that grasped onto him.
Theo looked up from his conversation at hearing his name being called. He smiled at Kimpton and Corey’s direction. Excusing himself from his conversation, he strode over to them, cutting through the crowd. His presence was extremely domineering that people instinctively stepped out of the way to give him space. Not once did he have to tilt his shoulders or accommodate his space to be shared with a person coming in from the opposite direction. It was as though, since birth, he had been told that others would step aside to yield in his presence.
“Such a debonair man,” Kimpton said longingly at Corey.
Even Corey had to agree. Watching Theo walk was itself an art form. The man was born to be on the runway, but, his muscles would probably prove too egregious for most of the sublime couture designers.
“We’ve slept with each other many times before, you know.” Kimpton let out a rasping laugh. “He fucked me so hard, I saw stars. So, I decided to make him one, too.”
Corey had to maintain his amusement. The thought of seeing a muscular Theo holding on to a spindly Kimpton was analogous to a barbarian handling fine china. Still, it cemented his belief that Theo Devereux was a person who would do what he had to do to get to the top.
“Of course, now that he’s a big star, he won’t give me the time of day anymore,” Kimpton said wistfully. “But now, he sends me young men such as you! So, I can’t blame him now, can I?”
His grip on Corey’s thigh tightened.
“We’re gonna have so much fun, young man, I just know it!”
Corey was saved the need to conjure up a reply to such a disgusting statement as Theo sidled up to his right.
“Hello gentlemen, what is going on here?” his rich voice reverberated through. Theo smiled easily, flashing those dazzling, meticulously arranged teeth.
“Theo!” Corey breathed out. He was happy to have an opportunity to avert his gaze from Kimpton’s lecherous face.
“Hey there,” Theo crooned out. “How are you enjoying your TV debut? You did well out there!”
Corey nodded excitedly, thanking Theo for the recommendation. Theo put a hand on Corey’s right thigh, fully aware that Kimpton had his locked on Corey’s left. Like a caged bird, Corey’s heart began thumping faster. He had not expected to be locked in such a position. They were in the middle of a busy TV studio, in the midst of a hectic production, with people walking around – yelling orders and lugging equipment. None of the cast members or crew paid attention at the two men slowly fondling Corey. Either they were none the wiser,
or had been trained to shirt away that which was not in their job description.
Helplessly, Corey gulped.
“Don’t worry, baby. Nothing’s going to happen to you here,” Theo grinned seductively, patting Corey’s thigh. And then turning to Kimpton, he said, “Corey here seems extremely nervous. What did you say to him?”
The executive producer gave out one of his syrupy giggles. “Nothing at all! I was just telling him how natural he looked in front of the camera!”
“He did look good, didn’t he?” Theo nodded. “And what’s better, Corey does look extremely ravishing even when the camera is not on him, no?”
Corey could not believe what he was hearing. This was deliberate. They were having a conversation, about him, in front of him!
“Tell me about it!” Kimpton laughed again. “The first time I saw him walk through the door today, I wanted him to fuck me so badly! Such a hot man! Look at Corey’s face, and his body!”
Without Corey’s permission, the executive producer’s hand slid up to his abdomen, pressing onto his toned abs underneath his blue shirt. Corey clenched his stomach uncomfortably, which only egged Kimpton to caress his body more.
“So toned,” Kimpton murmured appreciatively.
“Oh, he has a perky ass too,” Theo winked. “Shame, I’ve not seen him naked, yet.”
“I wonder how big his cock is?” Kimpton asked excitedly.
Without warning, Theo’s hand shot up towards Corey’s crotch and gave his flaccid member a generous squeeze.
“Ooooh,” Theo whispered lewdly. “Our boy here is soft, but he has a big one.”
“Kimpton, Theo, please,” Corey whimpered. Though the studio was cold, he was beginning to sweat, pushed to his limit. He was far from turned on by their actions. If anything, any sexual desire he felt at that point of time had completely evaporated.