by Blane Thomas
Corey told Xavier of his stupid, juvenile misadventures in seeking fame and fortune in the big city. Xavier was an ardent listener, occasionally laughing when Corey spoke of the way he would look at the food review websites, hoping to find his name mentioned by the critics. But when Corey spoke of Theo, Xavier’s face darkened. The jovial nature of his face vanished, replaced with a rather strong frown.
“I don’t know this Theo fella, but, he sounds just like many chefs I have dealt with, those who think that they hold power over us just because they are worshipped by many.”
Chapter 29
With a loan and supplier secured, Corey and Keith worked tirelessly to bring their restaurant to life. The old stone tiles on the floor were whittled away with new glossy brown tiles taking its place. The threadbare white walls were given a fresh coat of paint. The two contractors were fuelled by the speed of the development of the space. The four of them came in with a vigour that could not really be explained, except in a way likened to an adrenaline rush. When Corey ran a sandpaper along the old wooden door frame to the kitchen, all he could hear was the sound of the future restaurant starting to breathe.
He did not dare look at Keith during moments such as these. During the restaurant renovation, Keith exuded an unavoidable energy as he walked around, surveying the work of the contractors before joining them to assist in a particularly difficult work. He was immensely enjoying himself, and Corey could see it too. That very energy enhanced Corey’s, not just spiritually but sexually.
Though their arms, legs and chests ached from the work done on the restaurant, when they went over to Keith’s apartment just behind their restaurant building, all that fatigue was shaved away by their desire for each other.
Chapter 30
They lied awake that night on Keith’s bed. The renovation on the restaurant was completed, the last of the frying pans and cutleries delivered two hours ago. Now, all they could do was lie in bed, spent. Corey was still catching his breath from having ejaculated monstrously into Keith a few moments ago. Keith lied down with his head on Corey’s chest. A leg was buckled against Corey’s waist where Keith clung on for love. All was peaceful in the bedroom.
But both knew that this was the calm before the storm. A war was to be had tomorrow when they would open for business officially. The pair had planned for no promotions or announcements on social media, magazines, or crude pamphlets, signalling the start of their business. Corey and Keith were aware that when the fine dining circle got wind of their opening a restaurant, the news would spread easily. It would spark a controversy so great, it would roll out of the tongues of those who despised them greatly, namely Theo.
“They will come for our blood, won’t they?” Corey asked.
“Not only will they come, they will bring their army to destroy us,” came the soothing reply from Keith. There was no fear in his voice, only surety.
To others, Keith’s reply may seem cynical, devoid of hope. But Corey knew better. Having spent all this time with Keith, he realized that they were both necessary for each other. Both were important, like the two sides to the same coin. He understood that Keith’s voice did not drip of dread.
“They will not destroy us, Keith. I won’t let them.”
Keith smiled and slid a hand down to Corey’s flaccid cock. Tenderly, he grazed his fingers along the moist pink head, still throbbing from their earlier lovemaking. A sticky, glimmering line of his cum bridged the gap between the piss slit of Corey’s cock and Keith’s fingers. Corey responded immediately, his member springing upwards, stiff as a concrete tower. Keith got up and straddled Corey’s hips, looking down at his man. There was only courage and sincerity radiating out of the eyes staring back at him.
“Will you be with me till the end?” Keith asked softly. Rarely did his voice get tinged with emotions, except during moments like this.
Corey smiled and nodded. “Always.”
He cupped the fleshy mounds of Keith’s buttocks, giving them a pert squeeze. A finger encroached the fissure in between the bum, snaking its way down. Corey’s index finger tickled at the outer ridges of Keith’s sensitive spot. Keith hissed in response as Corey’s long index finger touched at his raw, pink love chute, already slightly swollen from being pounded by the strong cock earlier. Corey enjoyed the moistness, his finger aching to slide into his lover’s hole. Keith arched his body backwards and clenched, trying to stop the pleasurable assault. But Corey’s intrusion was aided by the white slick of cum still seeping out through the puckering orifice. It splashed and squished obscenely, like the sound of a suction cup against a wet surface as he continued driving his finger in. It reached the curvature of Keith’s inner wall, and he prodded at the walnut-like surface inside Keith’s warm, fleshy interior. Keith moaned piteously as electricity surged through his body, responding to Corey’s tickling at his prostate. Unabashedly, Keith swayed and swivelled his hips, leaning backwards, his hands on Corey’s toned thighs, begging dishonestly for it all to stop.
Corey’s cock was pressed between his own crotch and Keith’s buttocks. Soon, it found its way along the ridge, and the head swelled just a pleasurable fraction more when it was greeted by the sensation of a moist, warm circle. Without having to resort to force, the cock entered, complementary to the shape of the narrow, tight passage.
Keith let out a low purr, back still arched. Corey loved seeing Keith contort his body in such a way, seated above him. His lover often moved in a static, linear motion when cooking, with every lift of his hands precisely calculated to a tee. But here, Keith was fluid, unpredictable, sensual with the raw, untapped energy radiating from within.
Unable to just lie there any longer, Corey clasped his hands onto Keith’s hips and began his merciless pounding of the hole for the second time that night. He drove it into Keith mercilessly. Keith loved it when Corey’s cock rubbed along his inner walls. With every plunge, the tip of Corey’s cock kissed against Keith’s prostate, causing his own cock to ooze out its sticky, transparent precum. Corey rubbed Keith’s piss slit, extracting a little bit of that essence, placing it into his mouth, savouring that sweet, saltiness.
“More. I want more,” Keith whimpered.
Corey took that as a license to continue pounding Keith’s hole. Ever so often, he would remove his cock completely from Keith’s hole. The lips of his anus would form an obscene, pink ‘O’, which drove Corey mad with passion. He then shoved the cock back into Keith’s body, plunging till his pubes were tickling Keith’s bum. That motion made Keith’s entire body flinch. He convulsed and thrashed. No human could, or should, be feeling such pleasurable sensations. It was just too much for his body to handle.
“I’m gonna fuck you till you see stars,” Corey raised his body up and whispered into Keith’s ears.
Chapter 31
Theo Devereux had to suppress an urge to throw his phone to the floor. He was shivering. But why? He had never been faced with such an emotion in a long, long time. Was this what actual fear felt like? Unwilling to believe it, he reread the text message from Ryan Nicholson.
“Keith n Corey opened a restaurant. Called ‘The Bastion.’”
Below that message was an address to the restaurant. Theo’s stomach dropped. He recognized the address. It was that diner that Corey worked in after getting fired from the Trainyard. Theo paced around his living room restlessly. Not even the picturesque sight of the morning Chicago skyline could captivate his attention today. He had planned to buy out that old lady running the diner – but learnt later that someone had already made an offer to that place. When he had gone back to the diner, a large tarp had been placed over the front walls, covering the place up for refurbishment. Neighbours to the building shrugged and said that perhaps a small tour agency was to be built over it. He had been relieved. He thought that Corey had lost the job in the diner and would be forced to beg or scavenge, and never return to the world of fine dining, ever!
But he was wrong. Ryan sent another text message, this time a pic
ture of the restaurant’s front view. Theo took one look at it and almost had the wind punched out of his lungs.
The entire front wall was glazed in a thick, black paint, almost like it was a void of nothingness. It had a small wooden door with a silver knob, the only appendage extending outwards for patrons to enter. The presentation of the restaurant was audacious. No one but the strong-willed would want to turn the doorknob, to find out what was waiting for them inside. Theo knew that this was Corey and Keith’s way of challenging the norm. It was considered normal, even a rule, for the front of the restaurant to be as presentable as possible, to instil an aura of cosiness and professionalism in order to convince patrons to enter. But this restaurant did no such thing. In fact, it shunned such people, welcoming only those whose opinions and ideas would not be so easily swayed.
Above the door was the name of the restaurant, carved out of wood and nailed to the wall – ‘The Bastion.’
“A fortification, but against what?” thought Theo.
Without wasting time, he made a few calls. No such establishment should be allowed to survive. He would have to destroy them, again!
Chapter 32
Corey and Keith were busy in the kitchen. The Bastion ran a four-course meal for patrons desiring an exquisite lunch experience. Some of their first patrons had included Anya, Corey’s housemate, who brought some of her important clients. Xavier Freed’s visit coincided with Leah Chalmain. Though perfect strangers, they insisted on being seated together and conversed like old friends would. The Bastion was not only like a shield that protected them from the noisy din of uncommon sense outside, it served at a convalescence of the mind. The space within the four walls of Corey and Keith’s restaurant renewed their vigour.
Keith was happy in the kitchen with his partner. He learnt that though his art was important, it would not be complete without Corey. He had to concede that when Corey decorated the dishes, it was not done to impinge on Keith’s artistry, but to elevate it. They were both rivals and when cooking, the sexual tension between them vaporized in the heat of the kitchen, emulsifying itself into a love for beautifully crafted, tasty food on a plate.
With two other waiters and one dining room manager, The Bastion ran at its full capacity, serving fifteen tables, which were often packed to the brim. These patrons came not because they were compelled by the words of a magazine. They were there to meet with their peers from all different walks of life. These were the people Keith was talking about, those who spoke the common language – principled people who did not use others to get ahead in life.
Everything moved seamlessly, the kitchen enough for just the two of them to move around. Still, as Corey chopped the onions to be put into his soup, a foreboding cloud hung over him. He could not shake of an uneasy feeling that something bad was going to happen today, though he did not confide in these feelings with Keith.
As he stirred his soup, the kitchen door opened and their dining room manager, Ziya, stood there, looking apprehensive.
“Ummm, chefs? We have a problem.”
“Ziya, you are new here and I will tell you this once, and only once. Do not interrupt us unless there is a change in the food order,” Keith said, not looking up from his chicken. “Is it anything to do with the food?”
“No… no, chef. It is just that, some guests are standing outside our restaurant, demanding to have a place set for them, even though we are already full!”
Corey frowned. “Do they have a reservation?”
Ziya shook her head. “They just came in unannounced.”
“Then, tell them to wait. Honestly, Ziya. You are the manager. Expedite this as you see fit,” Keith replied.
“I… I tried to,” Ziya shuffled uncomfortably. She was looking at Corey for help.
Corey understood then. He could palpate the same fear in her eyes, that look that she did not want to offend this so-called important guest. “Good god he’s here, isn’t he?” Corey asked. “Theo Devereux?”
Ziya nodded. “The very same one from TV!” she squeaked, both out of fear and also undeniable excitement. “What should I do? He is demanding that we let him in!”
Keith took one look at Corey and for a moment, Corey wavered back into that younger chef – fresh and eager to please. But the stoic, stern look Keith held up to his eyes reminded Corey of what really mattered. This was their restaurant, The Bastion, it was their fortress; the bulwark against everything that was wrong with the world.
When Corey spoke, his voice did not tremble. “Tell him to wait in line. He did not make a reservation.”
“But, chef…”
“He will wait,” Corey cut across patiently, stirring at the soup. “If he decides to throw a bitch fit, tell him the cops will be called. You can do that, right, Ziya?”
Ziya’s eyes were as wide as petri dishes. Unblinking and unable to believe what she had just heard, she nodded and left the kitchen. Keith was unfazed by the entire interruption.
“The war has begun done,” was all he said. The continued working in silence after that, placing dishes out to be served.
Leah and Xavier were in the middle of their appetizer when they heard a loud ruckus coming from outside. Earlier, Leah was slightly confused when she had seen the dining room manager running towards the kitchen agitatedly. She had done noticed the same girl hurry back to the entrance. Unable to see what was happening beyond the wall, everyone in the restaurant jumped at the sound of a loud, deep and angry bellow tearing through the quietness. Leah looked at Xavier who continued to eat his chicken, unperturbed.
“Should we be worried?” she frowned.
“The building won’t fall just because someone yells at it,” came Xavier’s simple reply.
Outside, Ziya was trying her best to maintain eye contact with the giant of a man standing in front of her. She swallowed, unable to take her eyes off the throbbing vein pulsating at his right temple. It was difficult to stare at his bulging, manic eyes.
“What do you mean, I have to wait?” Theo bellowed. He did not care that the crowd of people walking down the street had begun to stop and stare. “Do you have any idea who I am?”
Ziya shook her head at first, then nodded hurriedly. “Yes… yes, Mr. Devereux, I do.”
“And do you know who these people are?” he gestured his muscular arm at the other two accomplices flanking his either sides.
Ziya’s eyes fell on a woman whose head was covered in a loud-coloured scarf, tied and twisted to form a messy bunch at the side of her head. The other man was thin, flamboyantly dressed, looking very much like a proud flamingo. She had never seen the two other people in her entire life, but judging from Theo’s rhetorical question, Ziya knew better than to answer honestly.
“This is Anais Heart, the top food critic for The Verve! And Kimpton, he’s the executive producer of Fippo Studios!” Theo boomed imperiously.
“But, but, that is all fantastic, Mr. Devereux. We are very grateful for your patronage to our restaurant… but as you can see we are full right now, and you did not make…”
“WE DO NOT MAKE RESERVATIONS!” Theo yelled into her face. He was beginning to lose his cool. The black wall of The Bastion mocked him. It stood there, unyielding, uncompromising. He had never been rejected before. All the restaurants in the city had yielded to his demands. But now, there was a dwarf of a woman standing in front of him, an impotent gatekeeper telling him he could not enter.
“Really now! This is stupid!” Anais Heart exclaimed in her shrill voice. “It was always been customary that a new fine dining establishment always have a spare table in hand in case we are to drop in unexpected. Such is the tradition!”
“Preposterous!” Kimpton hugged out. He let out a mocking laugh. “Why, all restaurant BEG us to dine in their establishment! Grovel! And you are telling me that you do not have a special space designated for us?”
“I’m afraid we don’t,” Ziya took a step back. She was trying to hold back her tears. “You will have to wait till a group
is done, and then we will fit you in.”
“You do realize that I can write you up a bad review of this place, and it will be all your fault?” Anais leaned forward, pointing an accusatory finger at Ziya. “My column is read far and wide, and I will tell them how you turned us away!”
“But ma’am, with all due respect, the fault in not on us. Again, you did not make a reservation,” the girl meekly said, slightly flinching, expecting a dynamite to explode.
Anaid looked at Theo with disbelief, that a person she deemed inferior would talk to her in such a way. Passers-by had stopped to take in the scene. Some even had their smartphones out, recording the entire event. Theo did not care. He had reached his boiling point. Rudely, he pushed Ziya to the side. She staggered to the side, letting out a helpless cry. Livid, he twisted the doorknob and entered. Storming through the small foyer, he was now standing in the dining room, facing the fifteen tables. Forty or so pairs of eyes stared back at his heavily breathing, hulking figure. He tried his best to look as domineering as possible, but something about the stares of the patrons within The Bastion deflated his ego.
Theo could not understand it. For years, he had entered a room and with a snap of a finger, commanded the attention of everyone in its vicinity. Eyes would often look at him with admiration, even obeisance. But this was different. They all stared at him in ‘shame?’ It was as if they were embarrassed for his sake. Most went back to their food and companions.
Anais took one look at the content of The Bastion and let out a giggle. “Really, Theo! You were worried about THIS? They only have fifteen tables. And look at the décor! It’s not sophisticated enough! The ceiling isn’t high, it makes this area look like a bunk! There aren’t any expensive paintings on the wall! No music, no ambience, nothing! The tables are simple, and so are the people dining here!”