by Hooper, Sara
“I can’t believe that you’re willing to do that for me. You are a God send.” I straightened my clothes and got set to leave. I had to get up early to talk with the realtor. I decided to leave, got into my car and started the engine. As I backed out of his driveway, I couldn’t help looking at his house and remembering what we just did.
In the morning, I met with the realtor and over the course of some dicey negotiations; I managed to obtain the place for less than I thought. Once I signed over the funds and got the keys, I started to have a panic attack. Ironically, Peter called at that moment. I didn’t have to explain much as he noted the anxiety in my voice.
About 10 minutes later, Peter was there at the door to my new place and he had his hands on my shoulders. I looked up in surprise, but I suppose that nothing about him should surprise me anymore.
“You told me that you were going to sign the papers today, and knowing you like I do, it was conceivable that you’d be second guessing yourself. Take a deep breath and just let it out slowly. Just think about how fantastic this place will be. Imagine how much money you’ll make and the number of customers who will be coming through those doors. I want you to picture it Mar.”
I closed my eyes and could see my vision come to life. Then I felt something else, but it was coming from behind me. I reached back and felt what was poking at me.
“Really, right now?”
“Hey, I can’t control these things sometimes. It felt your warm body against it and it came out to say a little hello.”
I smiled and replied, “There’s nothing little about that.” We hugged and he made me feel like anything was possible. We went in and got right to work. It would take a lot of elbow grease to get this place first up to code, and then what I wanted it to look like. It was a Herculean task, but I knew that I had my very own Hercules waiting to roll up his sleeves.
Two days passed, we barely made a dent in the place. I still hadn’t come up with a name. I wanted something that would describe who I was and what kind of chef I had become. I looked around and Peter was hard at work with the electrical. He told me that the wiring was faulty and that I needed a breaker box to put in. I looked at him with confusion and he finally said that he knew a guy that owed him a favor, that he could get the parts and wire cheap. I liked the sound of that.
While he was doing that manual labor, my grandmother and I were taking inventory of the kitchen. For the most part, everything looked in good shape. I didn’t have to buy any major appliances and things were looking good. Still a long way to go, but we were taking things in steps.
My eyes were periodically gazing at Peter and he would sometimes catch me looking and grinned in my direction.
“Oh no my child, don’t tell me that you’re sleeping with him. Don’t even try to lie to me Maria, it tells in your eyes. It’s always in the eyes.” I could never hide anything from her and she had easily read our body language.
“Yes grandma we are sleeping together. It only happened one time, but it was the kind of sex that you probably had with grandad.”
“I’ve never discussed my sex life and I don’t intend to now. Peter does seem like a good man and all I’ve ever wanted for you was for you to be happy. If he hurts you in any way, I’ll be happy to relieve him of his family jewels.”
“I don’t think that will be necessary.” She grinned at me and then left to get to a bingo tournament. As she put it, “I have to make some money to help pay for this place.”
We worked all day and were even there for the new plates when they arrived. They were exactly what I wanted and would compliment the new sanding and paint of the tables. Peter had taken the old shabby ones and turned them into something that could grace any fine dining establishment.
He finished up around 10 that night and was covered from head to toe in dust. My hands patted him down to get the dust off, but it also brought about a big problem. His smile told me everything in one look and I knew that we were about to find out just how sturdy those tables were. Thankfully, there was paper covering the windows, so we were left in our own little world.
“I’ll make sure the door is locked. I had barely gotten the latch turned, when I felt his hands come around and tweak my nipples through my dirty shirt. His hot lips made contact with my neck and I had no choice but to lean into him. My buttons came undone and his fingers played over my naked flesh. My skin was tingling, as he put his hand on my tight ass. He gave it a friendly slap and put his lips over mine.
I turned to face him and he pushed me back against the table. He was trying to get me to hop up onto it, but I had a better idea. I flipped the script on him and turned his back to the table. I undid his belt and attempted to pull down his tight jeans, but they felt like they were painted on him. He had to give me a hand, but we finally got them off and threw them on the floor.
“I got those in high school and only wear them when I have to get my hands dirty.”
“Oh, you’re definitely going to get dirty Peter. You can count on it.” I pushed his tight glutes against one of the new tables, he got the idea quick enough and sat up on it. I slid the chair out and sat down to inspect the meal that was presented to me. It was a big sausage, but I was sure that I could handle it.
My mouth worked its way down his meaty column and I reached under with my hands to give attention to his very full balls. He was definitely backed up in there, what with two days of constant work and no play. It just seemed right some now to do it, christening my new place.
Peter’s hands grabbed my long dark locks and he held me there while he fucked my tight mouth. I gave his sack a squeeze and he let go of my hair. I wanted room to maneuver and now I could slip one hand around the base and put the rest to good use in my mouth. It was a way of milking the cum from his body, and I was soon rewarded with a loud moan of release.
I took him out just as the first spurt shot over my tongue and squeezed the flow shut. He looked at me pleading to let him go, but I had other plans. It took a few minutes of shutting him down, but eventually I was able to let go and only a small amount came forth out of the head. It was still fully engorged and I got up and took off my own tight jeans and dropped my panties along with them.
My legs climbed up onto the chair and then straddled his lap. I settled my petite body on top of his and then lowered myself onto his angry looking male organ.
I gritted my teeth, as he filled me up until I thought that I couldn’t take anymore. I started to ride him and the table began to move. I got a good motion going and then I gripped his shoulders and really began to slam my pussy down over him. The table creaked on its legs and we stopped for a second with fear in our eyes. We giggled like two children causing mischief. When we thought it was safe, I started up again and he pulled me to him and bit my bottom lip with his. The pain of his nip was more than enough to drive me forward.
“Damn Peter, if I knew it would be like this…oh fuck.” He had now lifted his legs and used them to thrust up under me. It was more than I could take and I lost it completely. I saw myself from above and it felt like I had left my body for a second and the sight of our coupling was so fucking hot. Then I was back in the present and I could feel his seed dripping out of me and onto that nicely shined table. It was a quick and powerful climax for the both of us that left us both spent.
We lay in each others arms and I said, “That was…was…ambrosia. Wait, that will be the name of my place…Ambrosia.”
“Did that just come to you?” I looked at him and the idea did indeed just come to me or should I say in me. I broke out in hysterics and he finally got what I was thinking and joined me.
Three weeks later and it was one day away from the grand opening. With Peter here to guide me, I was able to finish in less time than I scheduled for. Peter was a marvel not only between the sheets, but also with his hands. He took most of the place and refurbished what was already there. A little paint here and some little nick knacks to give it the right ambience and it was almost ready. He eve
n somehow bargained with the building code guy and it only cost me a month’s free food for him and his wife. Not something I condone in my administration, but with me stretching a buck, I would gladly accept that offer. That guy streamlined the permits I needed and it didn’t take the normal time of 3 months to get done.
The advertising was done with legwork with my friends handing out flyers and getting the word out. It must’ve worked, because my opening night was looking to be totally booked.
I only hired the staff that I needed. Two chefs to cook with me in the kitchen and believe me I vetted them personally. I had four waitresses, one whom I snaked from my old employer and a manager who just got out of Business College. Mario would be the one who expedited the food and made sure the front of the place was running smoothly. Even Peter was dressed to help out that night. He was looking so yummy in that suit that I just wanted to rip it off of him with my teeth.
The doors were about to open, when one of the stoves refused to light. Peter took a look, but not even his handy hands could fix it.
“I don’t know what I’m going to do. We are going to have a full house in less than an hour and I just can’t do it with one oven.”
Peter said, “I might know someone, but it’s going to cost you. He’s the best in the business, but it’s after hours and he usually doesn’t make house calls. I think I can persuade him to come out. I’ll give him a call. He kind of owes me a favor. I introduced him to his current wife.” I was having my doubts that anyone could fix this disaster, but if anyone could, of course it would be Peter.
He came back and said, “He can come out, but his wife and daughter have the car. I have to drive 20 minutes to get him and 20 minutes back. I know it’s cutting it close, but I’ll be as quick as I can. Don’t panic, this will work out, I’ll make damn sure of it.” His words were comforting and my stress level was dropping slightly. He took off and sped out of the parking lot in a cloud of burnt rubber.
Less than an hour later, and still no sign of Peter and his guy. I had no choice but to open and let the chips fall where they may.
I gathered the staff and said, “Ok, we are moments away from opening that door. I want you to double check everything and let’s make this grand opening one that they’ll always remember for years to come.
My cooking staff was losing it and Manuel, my sous chef, said, “There’s no way we can do this with one stove. We’re doomed, doomed, doomed.” I slapped him across the face and he looked at me with a stunned look on his reddened face. Every one looked on at the spectacle with mouths wide open.
“I don’t think I needed that.”
“You did, trust me. Now, I need you…. I need all of you to pull it together. We can do this. We’ve all trained for any eventuality and I’m sure this has happened in other restaurants that you’ve worked in.”
Sally, one of my servers said, “Yeah, that might be true, but never on a grand opening, when whatever we do will decide our fate.”
“Mario, put on that smile, it’s time to open the doors”. He flashed that same grin that got him the job. It was more his personality and determination that got me to hand over the reigns to him.
Orders came flying in and we worked hard to get them out in a respectable time. It was hard with only one stove but we made do. I could see the mayor and his wife out there, along with several food critics that would make or break me on just their thoughts on the food.
It was an hour into service when Peter returned with his guy. I certainly didn’t expect much, considering the guy was old with long white hair in a ponytail. However, my grandma taught me to never judge a book by its cover. It was a hard decision to make, but I bit the bullet and allowed this guy to work on the stove. Amazingly, he found the problem in less than ten minutes and we had our second stove back. Apparently, it needed a small part, but fortunately he had one with him.
“This happens all the time. When Peter told me what happened, I figured I’d need that part, so we had to drive to my buddies place to get it. He wasn’t happy to be dragged out of his house, so you owe him as well. I would send you my bill and it would’ve been hefty, but since you’re a friend of Peter I’ll let it slide on two conditions. One, you give me a plate to go and two, you don’t think of using anyone for repairs to your appliances, but me.”
I thought that he was being very fair and said, “You’ve got a deal. I really appreciate you coming out and doing this.” He shook my hand and I could tell that he had years of manual labor under his belt just from the calluses on his hands. Peter kissed me, wished me luck and said that he would be back in less than an hour.
They left and you wouldn’t believe the jubilation in my staff when they saw that we were working at full complement. Things were looking to go my way, but I shouldn’t have jinxed myself like that.
20 minutes later, I found out that we were running out of Salmon. That was my signature dish and someone had either miscalculated on the amount or the patrons were ordering more than we had. I called Peter and he said that he was on his way back and would think of something. I only had three more pieces of Salmon and that would be gone quickly in the next wave of customers that came in the door.
I was right and we got an order for 5 of my signature Salmon dishes. “Ok, let’s not go off the rails. I think we can stretch the three we already have for the 5, so just pile on the fresh vegetables and maybe no one will notice.” They all nodded their heads and thankfully the customers didn’t complain about the portion and instead raved about the food. Just another hiccup to deal with, and now we were plum out of that fish. If someone ordered it, they would have to be told that we had to make a substitute.
I was about to tell my wait staff to cut the Salmon from the menu, when Peter came in carrying a box filled with ice and fresh Atlantic salmon. I don’t know how he did it, but there was no time to find out. We were slammed with customers and moved to fill the orders that were coming in. Peter got right in the mix of things and gave a hand serving.
The night was going well, until a fire started in the kitchen. Panic consumed me. After all the hard work, I couldn’t believe this was happening! I was only hoping that the smoke didn’t creep into the dining area outside the kitchen. We scrambled to put it out, and eventually it subsided with the help of Manuel. He grabbed a fire extinguisher and gave it a good blast.
I realized the fire started from the stove Peter’s friend attended to. I was so annoyed and regretted even praising that fool for what he seemed to fix. I was flooded with stress and frustration and I turned to Peter with venom on my tongue, “This is your fault. If it wasn’t for your guy messing with the stove this never would’ve happened. You almost ruined my night, I hope you’re happy!” I had no idea where this came from, only that I was under a lot of pressure and this last thing made me blow. I needed to vent my anxiety, and unfortunately Peter was there to take the blunt of the attack.
He looked at me and said, “Are you kidding? You’re actually blaming me for this? I was only trying to help. It wasn’t like I intended for my guy to fuck with your stove. I don’t need all this drama.”
“Drama? Is that what you think this all is? My fucking kitchen almost got burnt to the ground! I’ve worked so hard for tonight and you think I’m causing drama?” I was screaming at Peter in anger. I didn’t even notice that two of my servers came into the kitchen, then cowered out because of the commotion between us.
“Damnit Mar. Screw this! If I’m causing you so much distress, I’ll just fucking leave. Hope you have a great night.” He walked out the the kitchen through the back, slamming the door behind.
His words hurt, but I understood where they were coming from. I just didn’t have the chance to say anything else, as he went out to his car and took off. I had the rest of the night to deal with and then I would go see Peter the hothead.
At the end of the night, the response to my food was amazing. Not only was everyone thrilled with the fare, but the mayor himself said that he would be making this p
lace his go to spot for any lunch or dinner meetings in the future. There was even a media journalist on hand and he came right into the kitchen, where he asked me if I would consider doing an interview with him in the next couple of days.
I congratulated my staff and after we cleaned up, I sent them home with a bonus check for a job well done. I then sat and thought about what happened and came to the conclusion that I was being a bitch. Not a comfortable thing for me to admit, but that was how I was acting. Peter had gone above and beyond his duty to help me and I treated him like that. I was so ashamed of myself.
I drove back to his place after I closed up my restaurant. I do love the sound of that…my restaurant. This was a dream come true for me and to share it with my best friend and now lover just made the whole evening something very special indeed. It was just unfortunate it had to end in that manner.
I got to his place and hurriedly ran to the door to hopefully make up with him. If he was there, he wasn’t answering the door, probably because he just didn’t want to hear any explanations. I could see candles all over the whole house but every one of those were put out. I don’t know how he managed to put this all together, but I was floored by it all. It just made me feel that much worse for how I behaved.
That night I slept alone in my own place and it didn’t feel very good. The bed was cold and I felt that I blew it. Even though I was thrilled with the success, it was possible that I could’ve lost my best friend and that just didn’t sit well with me. I wasn’t about to go down with at least fighting for what I wanted. It just wasn’t how I was brought up.
I went over to Peter’s early in the morning, carrying a plate of his favourite meal of Spaghetti Bolognese. I knew if anything would get him to open the door it would be that.
Peter approached the door and peeked through the curtain. When he saw me standing there, he didn’t seem pleased to see me. That was until I opened the platter and he saw the spaghetti and the steam rising from it. His look of irritation turned to one of amusement and he shook his head and opened the door.