by S. E. Law
“What do you mean ‘a girl like you,’ Whitney? You and I aren’t so different from anyone else. We’re both big, beautiful women with a lot to offer. You even own a bakery, so if a girl like you can’t get someone like Peter Coleman, then what does that say about me?”
“No, it’s not like that Alvina. You are so much more confident than I am. Your attitude alone draws men to you, and you know that blondes always have more fun. Speaking of which, did you make up with Derek?”
Alvina giggles.
“I did. He’s in the shower. We had some fun really making up last night. So, back to my original question: you spent the night with PeterC?”
“Yes. And we had mind blowing sex. My body aches and parts of me are sore, but I’m dying for more.”
Alvina literally squeals on the other side.
“Hell yeah, girlfriend! Are you seeing him again tonight?”
“No. He has to go to California, in his private jet, to take care of some things on the West coast. And maybe it’s for the best that I take some breathing room from him. I’ve seen or talked to him every day since the first day we met online. It would be too easy to fall for him and get my heart broken.”
Alvina’s silent for a moment.
“But maybe he has the same feelings for you. He could be spending his time with anyone, and he chose you.”
I shake my head.
“I wish, but I’m sure he only sees it as a business deal. He deposited another five thousand into my account before I was even out of the building this morning. To be honest, it made me sad, but c’est la vie.”
Alvina’s silent again.
“I know girlfriend,” she says quietly. “The money makes it feel really transactional, doesn’t it?”
“It does,” I agree quietly.
We’re both silent for a moment, but then I try to look on the bright side.
“Other than the earth-shattering sex though, something good might come out of this. He asked if I could come up with some new shake flavors for Shake Place.”
My friend squeals again.
“Whitney, that would be incredible! If SugarTime was associated with Shake Place, business would go through the roof. That raspberry cheese Danish is perfect with ice cream as a midnight snack. I’ve done it many times. There are so many of your creations that would lend themselves to unique flavors of milkshakes. Regardless of what happens with Peter personally, this is an opportunity you can’t pass up.”
“You’re totally right. This will keep me busy all week, so I won’t dwell on my emotions. Oh, damn…”
“What’s wrong?”
“A text from Peter just came through. He says he can’t stop thinking about me in his bed and can’t wait to see me next week.”
“See girl! I told you! This is more than just business.”
I smile despite myself as my heart warms.
“I’m just going to take this one day at a time. Alvina, I have to go. I have to check in with my parents. I’ll call you later to discuss more about the shake flavors?”
She burbles happily.
“Alright. Call me when you have some recipes! I’ll make them over here and test them out on Derek. He loves Shake Place, did I mention?”
I just laugh again, and hang up. It’s always nice to chat with my best friend because she gets me, and I don’t have to worry about appearing stupid or dumb before her. The situation with Peter is hard to read, but I always know that my bestie’s on my side. But now, it’s time to call my parents. With a smile, I dial their number and wait as the phone rings.
12
Peter
I arrive back in New York City a day early. Some of my West Coast locations were having trouble getting masks in for their workers so I asked a friend in the textile industry to make some for me. I paid to have some of her machinery re-fitted to produce the masks, and paid her seamstresses time and a half too. It makes sense, after all. I value my workers and want them to know I appreciate them working through this difficult period. But now, I’m ready to get home to see Whitney again.
We video chatted while I was away, but she seemed a little distant and I couldn’t figure out why. I asked her multiple times if something was wrong and she insists there wasn’t. But my inner self tells me that something’s off. I wonder if I pushed her too far out of her comfort zone when we had sex. I don’t think she realizes how powerful her sexual presence is.
I want to make it up to her, so I’ve arranged for a picnic on the terrace. That cam show she did where she set up the picnic on her bed was one of my favorites. It comes in second only to the roller skating carhop, which still gets me hard whenever I think back. Whitney, wearing nothing but knee-high socks and old-school roller skates? Yes, please.
But tonight, I’ve pulled out all the stops for our date. I’ve had sod rolled out to create a grassy area for a plaid blanket. Pots of tulips in colors called sunshine, salmon, scarlet, and merlot surround a small picnic area. There’s cheese and fruit ready to snack on while I prepare dinner, and a bottle of rich cabernet waits to be uncorked. There’s only one thing left to do: to text Whitney.
Peter: My driver has a package for you. Please it on before you come over, sweetheart.
Whitney: You didn’t have to get me a present! You’ve already given me so much.
Peter: Consider it a present for me then.
Whitney: Uh-oh. Can I wear it out in public or do I need to put a trench coat on over it?
Peter: LOL, no trench coat necessary. See you soon.
Whitney: Can’t wait.
Finally, reception calls up to tell me Whitney’s arrived, and my heart begins racing. I meet her at the elevator with a cocktail in hand. The door slides open, and she looks ravishing, her brown curls bouncing and those chestnut eyes soft and warm.
“What is this?” she asks as I hand her the martini glass in exchange for her overnight bag.
I grin.
“That is an alcoholic version of my peach white chocolate milkshake. There’s peach schnapps, white chocolate liqueur, whipped vodka, and a splash of peach nectar in there.”
She takes a sip and smiles at me. My heart begins pounding. How does this girl get under my skin so fast?
“This tastes too good to be a martini. Are you trying to get me drunk?” she sasses.
I grin.
“No. In fact, let me hold that while you give me a 360-degree view of that dress.”
I was right. My gift is perfect, and as Whitney twirls, the halter dress flares and looks stunning on her. It has wide vertical stripes alternating between midnight blue velvet and sapphire blue satin with black velvet buttons down the front and the black lace of crinoline peeking out the bottom. She’s paired it with strappy black heels and a black satin ribbon tied in her hair.
“You look stunning, Whitney. It’s a shame I can’t take you out on the town dressed like that.”
Her smile melts for a moment, but then it’s quickly back in place. Did I imagine that?
“No, it’s okay. Pete, this dress is exquisite. You have quite the sense of women’s fashion for a guy, but it really wasn’t necessary.
“It is necessary. Come see.”
I take her hand and lead her towards the balcony.
“I see you don’t have your hands stuffed in your pockets this time,” she teases. “Am I less irresistible this time today?”
I set her drink on the kitchen island and wrap my arms around her waist before lifting her off her feet. Then, I kiss her like I’ve wanted to all week, deep and passionate.
“To answer your question, you are definitely not less irresistible. But we’ll be in bed soon enough. I can wait.”
“Well, Mr. Coleman, how presumptuous of you,” she says with mock outrage. “What makes you think I’m going to sleep with you tonight?”
I grin, my eyes twinkling merrily.
“Even if you hadn’t come prepared with an overnight bag, I think I could seduce you with what’s out here on the terrace.”
I set he
r down in front of the open French doors to appraise the picnic area I’ve created. She gasps.
“This is so sweet, and it explains the dress too. Is that real grass, by the way?”
“Sure is. It may not be Central Park, but damn it, we’re having a picnic. I’m going to cook us filet mignon with Crimini mushrooms in a burgundy sauce with roasted asparagus and rosemary potatoes. How does that sound?”
She smiles, and my heart races again.
“Mouth-watering. I’m famished.”
“Let’s have our drinks on the terrace and snack on this cheese and fruit while the sun sets on the river.”
Whitney kicks off her heels and walks back and forth on the patch of grass not covered by the picnic blanket.
“I may be a city girl now, but I still love the feel of thick grass under bare feet.”
She catches me staring at her. I’m taken with her glossy chocolate curls, pouty pink lips, and rich brown eyes.
“What’s wrong? Does the city boy not understand how good it feels to go barefoot in the grass?”
I shake my head.
“No, sweetheart. Nothing’s wrong. Having you here makes everything right.”
She smiles at me with some exasperation, even though I know she loves hearing the words.
“Peter, you don’t have to constantly flatter someone you’ve paid to spend time with you.”
That makes my heart stop beating for a moment, and I pause.
“Is that what you think? I don’t need to treat you special because I’ve paid you?”
She shakes her head, biting her lip.
“No. That’s not what I mean. Well maybe, sort of. It’s just hard for me to remember that this isn’t really dating when you compliment me like that. I find myself genuinely enjoying your company and just wanting to spend time with you, and I know I don’t have the right to feel that way.”
I cock my head and look at her, my blue eyes suddenly intense.
“Whitney, we may have met in an odd way, but I’m not paying you to be a cam girl anymore, and I want to make that clear. I spend time with you because I enjoy your company. I give you money because I believe in your business, and I like to invest in people who have potential. I’ve never paid for sex in my life, and I don’t intend to start now.”
She looks penitent. I know she’s heard my words, but I don’t know if they’ve sunk in.
“I know you don’t need to,” she soothes. “I’m sorry. I don’t want to ruin our evening. Let’s get back to cocktails and cheese.”
I stare hard at her again.
“Ok, but only if you tell me if this is why you’ve been acting a little strange lately.”
She nods.
“It is. I just over-think things sometimes.”
I take her face in my hands and gently kiss her, desperate to make my point.
“You are beautiful, intelligent, and have a lot to offer. Don’t sell yourself short. Now tell me about your week.”
She smiles brilliantly, and I feel better, but something tells me that this issue isn’t over yet. Nonetheless, Whitney sails forth with her ideas.
“I put a lot of thought into recipes for your milkshakes. I’ve had my friend, Alvina, test them out on her boyfriend because he’s a huge Shake Place fan. I think we’ve come up with some really good flavors.”
I grin.
“That’s great. I usually come up with our new menu items, but I’ve been uninspired lately. It seems like everything I come up with is boring. I wouldn’t even want to drink my creations myself.”
Whitney giggles.
“Okay, so it’s perfect then! But hear me out on some of these because they’re not traditional ice cream flavors. I use some floral flavors like lavender and hibiscus in my cupcakes and they’re a huge hit. I thought we could combine them with some traditional favorites to make new ones? Lavender and lemon pair well so you could do that and get a second flavor out of it by adding cheesecake bits. Nearly any berry flavor works with hibiscus, but I’m leaning towards blackberry or raspberry. What do you think?”
I shake my head. She’s a genius.
“Those are awesome ideas, sweetheart, and I can’t wait to try them.”
“Oh, good, because I made some lavender and hibiscus syrups and brought them with me. I was also thinking coconut and key lime for a tropical flair, and Mexican chocolate was Derek’s favorite. I have some ideas that require expensive ingredients if you want to do a gourmet line. Is that okay? Maybe at certain locations that will pay a higher price point?”
I lean in and kiss her deeply; Whitney’s just taken a huge load off of my plate, and her brains and business sense are a big turn on for me. I’ve dated so many models and socialites whose only thoughts revolved around what to wear and who would see them wearing it.
“Wow, milkshakes really make you hot,” she giggles when we finally break the kiss. My eyes flash.
“It’s not the milkshakes, it’s you. You’re helping me feel excited about my own business, and I haven’t experienced that in a while. I was so gung-ho when I first started out that I couldn’t wait to get to work each morning, but I lost touch. Lately, it’s just become too much of being an executive rather than a restaurant owner.”
She smiles.
“Tell me how Shake Place started,” Whitney invites gently. I take a deep breath.
“Well, I did the fast food thing in high school in my home town. Then, when I came to New York to go to NYU, I got a job at Minestrone Tavern as a line cook. We were putting out forty dollar burgers, if you can believe it. They were delicious but they weren’t better than the burgers my family had back home. So I started thinking that I could do better.”
Whitney laughs.
“I love a good burger, but I’d never pay forty dollars for one.”
I nod.
“There are plenty of New Yorkers who do, but I think good food should be affordable. I was fortunate that my grandfather raised cattle, so I had an excellent source of beef and could get it for a good price. I started with a little food cart and within a month I couldn’t keep up. I literally couldn’t cook burgers fast enough, and needed more grill space,” I tell Whitney. She looks genuinely interested, and my heart warms recounting the story.
“I happened upon a tiny space for rent when I had to take a detour on my way back to campus because the police had my normal route blocked off. It used to be a frozen yogurt place when they were at their peak and you could find fro-yo on every block. It still had a lot of the equipment in it from the frozen yogurt business, and that inspired me to include milkshakes on my menu.”
“So, there was a little bit of luck or fate involved, coming across that shop?” Whitney asks.
“Absolutely! I went and talked to my grandfather about my plan. I told him what I wanted to do: burgers and shakes. He loved the idea, and said it reminded him of old school soda fountains. He gave me a loan to start the business and introduced me to a good friend who had dairy farms. They became my source for the ice cream.”
“If only my grandfather was a wheat farmer!” Whitney laughs.
“Unfortunately, who you know plays a big part in success in the restaurant industry. I never would have been able to do what I did without my supply connections, and I’ll be the first to admit it.”
Whitney nods.
“I saw that in my time working as a pastry chef. My first job was at a country club in New Jersey. The owner had no idea what he was doing but he was a golf buddy of the governor’s. The governor helped him get the right people in there to run the place and frequented it a lot too, which was what made it successful.”
“Where else did you work?” I ask, aware that I don’t really know a lot about her work experience. “I had no idea you started in New Jersey.”
She grins.
“My next job was at a French place in Manhattan called Chez Jacques. Really original name, right?”
“Hey now, I know Shake Place isn’t all that original, but I started out dealing
with college students as my main clientele. Their brains were fried from Chemistry, Philosophy, and Art History. I didn’t want to make them think too hard about what they would get at my restaurant,” I tell her, feigning being offended.
“I get it, you needed to be clear to those unsophisticated NYU students,” she laughs, playing along. “But anyways, Jack was the owner of Chez Jacques. I know, funny right? He didn’t have a French name at all, but it was great nonetheless. I baked a lot of bread there and we had traditional French desserts. Every Friday, Jack would let me have creative freedom and do a dessert special for the weekend. When the famous restaurant critic, Leonard Fine, raved about one of my desserts, I got an offer from The Palace Hotel to be an assistant pastry chef in the events department”
“That sounds interesting. I’ve been to functions there.”
“They offered me a salary nearly the same as what I was making at Chez Jacques, so I was on the fence about taking it. But Jack encouraged me to move on. He was honest and said he didn’t foresee being able to increase my salary much. We were busy, but his budget for staffing was maxed out. He wanted me to have the opportunity to grow.”
I nod.
“Jack definitely sounds like a great boss. I’ve had to let some of my best employees go so they could reach their full potential. Was The Palace all you expected it to be?”
Whitney laughs ironically.
“Not at all. I envisioned making fun tarts or mousses for swanky parties, or muffins and danishes for fancy brunches. What I actually did was spend a year making wedding cakes for bridezillas. It was pure hell.”
I grin.
“What, you don’t like making wedding cakes?”
She sighs.
“I like making the occasional wedding cake. But this wasn’t even about the cakes, it was about the brides. They would come in with these ridiculous ideas that they couldn’t get done at a regular bakery because they were either too vague or required feats of engineering. One woman came in with a photo of a cake that was already half cut into and told us she wanted one like it. I could only see about twenty percent of what the finished cake looked like, so you can imagine how difficult that was.”