by D STEP
All characters in this book have no existence outside the imagination of the author and have no relation whatsoever to anyone bearing the same name or names. They are not even distantly inspired by any individual known or unknown to the author, and all incidents are pure inventions of fiction.
Table of Content
Too Many Cooks
CHAPTER 2
CHAPTER 3
CHAPTER 4
CHAPTER 5
CHAPTER 6
CHAPTER 7
CHAPTER 1
Rhia stuck her fingers into her tangled black hair and pulled in frustration. She resisted the urge to scream out loud. The competition she was about to enter would determine her future. She had never been so nervous in her entire life, not even when she moved from London, England to Lansing, Michigan all by herself, with barely a few dollars to her name. She stared in the smudged mirror of her hotel bathroom, trying to arrange her unruly black hair in a presentable fashion underneath the white chef’s hat she was required to wear.
“Babe, what’s wrong?” Brandon called from the bedroom, where he lay sprawled across the white expanse of the giant king-size bed, flipping idly through the channels on the TV as he sipped a warm beer.
“My hair’s a bloody mess!” she snapped back at him, throwing the chef’s hat on the bathroom floor in frustration.
She felt bad yelling at Brandon. He really was an amazing guy. Even though he was top of his law class at Michigan State University, he had taken an entire day just to go with her to the cooking competition, and had been nothing but lovely and supportive all day, even though her assorted temper tantrums. Not only that, but he had already helped her pay some of her tuition. He was truly a great catch, and she made a promise to herself that she wouldn’t forget that.
“Sorry, love,” she called out to him, running out into the bedroom to give him a quick apology kiss on the lips.
“It’s ok,” he smiled up at her, giving her round ass a firm squeeze as she turned and hurried back to the bathroom. “You’re cute when you’re nervous.”
“Ha ha,” she threw back wryly over her shoulder.
She glanced at her watch; it was only two hours until the competitors had to gather in the main hall for the opening ceremony.
“Shit,” she hissed under her breath as she managed to wrangle her thick mane into a messy, oversized bun on top of her head. She fumbled with some bobby pins, sticking them in here and there until she decided she looked presentable enough, and ran back out into the bedroom to change into her chef whites.
Rhia walked over to where her whites were hanging on a wooden hanger, freshly bleached and pressed. She slipped the white hotel robe off of her shoulders and stood in front of the full-length mirror, appraising her body. She was a taller girl, around five foot nine, with smooth, pale, unblemished skin. Her legs were long and shapely; she took good care of her body, but also enjoyed the finer things in life, as any good chef does. Her breasts were round and soft, the rosy pink of her nipples matching the color of her lips. She had curvy hips and a full ass, and she was proud of these curves – they had always seemed to drive men wild.
She shook her head, her momentary reverie interrupted as she turned her mind back to the task at hand. She slid her chef’s uniform from its hanger and pulled the crisp material over her body, then smoothed it over her body with her hands. It was true that the outfit was not the most flattering thing she’d ever worn, but she always felt proud and important when she wore it. She turned to Brandon, striking a sexy pose, asking, “How do I look?”
“You look fucking hot. Although I did prefer you a couple of minutes ago when you were staring at yourself in the mirror.”
She blushed and gave him a playful slap on the knee. Brandon always made fun of her for looking at herself in the mirror too much. “Mirror, mirror on the wall, who’s the fairest of them all?” he would croak at her in his best imitation of a witch’s voice, whenever he caught her admiring herself. She couldn’t help it if she was beautiful, and blessed with a healthier amount of self-esteem than most women her age. Rhia knew his teasing was always good-natured, and that he appreciated her body as much, if not more than she did.
She was definitely appreciative of his body too; what girl wouldn’t be? He was gorgeous. Six foot three with an athletic grace, he always made heads turn when he walked in a room. He had sandy blond hair, green eyes, and full lips that Rhia loved to kiss. He had an easygoing personality that put everyone he met at ease, but when absorbed in something he felt passionate about, he would transform into the assertive, take-charge kind of man that Rhia had always desired, especially in the bedroom. He was definitely the best sex she’d ever had, and she could never get enough of him.
The men she used to date in London were always brooding, poetic types – depressed artists with dark hair and dark eyes, thin, lanky and underachieving. She never thought she would be attracted to someone so Midwestern. When she thought of American men, she always thought of corn-fed, thick-bodied dullards who were only interested in sports, beer and pussy. When she met Brandon, she was ready to write him off immediately. Only after she’d reluctantly agreed to a date with him at one of the college pubs, did she begin to realize that there was more to this guy than she had initially thought. He had those stereotypically American, wholesome good looks, but he wasn’t stupid or shallow; he was an intellectual. Her British friends always thought of Americans as ignorant and provincial, but Brandon was open-minded, liberal and cultured. She fell in love with him almost immediately, and within a few weeks, they were inseparable.
He was generous too – in bed and in life, and was always enthusiastically supportive of Rhia, genuinely interested in and excited about her career, doing everything he could to help her achieve her dreams. His presence here at the hotel, when she knew he was swamped with homework and studying, spoke to his level of commitment to her, and to the depth of his love. She stared at him admiringly as he watched the television, a faint smile on his lips, a bottle of beer held loosely in one cupped hand.
Finding herself distracted once again, Rhia snapped her mind back to the events at hand, grabbing her makeup bag out of her suitcase and quickly applying a few products. Giving herself a final appraisal, she decided she was presentable enough, and checked the time again.
“We only have an hour and a half!” she cried, startling Brandon so that he spilled half his beer on the white bedspread.
“Whoa there!” he chuckled, placing the bottle on the nightstand, and reaching for her hand. “It’s plenty of time. You’re gonna be ok.”
“Shit!” She ran to the bathroom for a washcloth, began dabbing at the spilled beer. “Sorry about that. I’m completely on edge. I’ve never been this nervous.”
“Do you want to take a walk or something?” he asked, gently taking the towel from her hand and cleaning the spill himself. “Might help you calm down?”
“I don’t think so. Maybe we can go downstairs? Check out the competition?”
“Sure babe. Sounds good.” He stood up and stretched his long body, almost touching the ceiling with his fingertips. He sat on the bed, slipped his shoes on, and stood up, taking her hand in his.
“You got this,” he said, looking down into her eyes, his expression serious but tender.
“I got this,” she repeated, but her voice was small and filled with doubt.
CHAPTER 2
The elevator doors opened, and Rhia and Brandon stepped out into the lobby of the hotel. The place was crowded with competition participants and their loved ones; nervous-looking men and women in chef’s clothing paced back and forth, some muttering to themselves, others intently studying notecards, recipe books, and other such reading material. Rhia stumbled back as a young woman almost plowed into her, her face hidden in a sheaf of papers. The girl murmured a distracted apology and continued on her way towards the main hall where the event was going to take place.
“Wanna see the event room?” Brandon suggested, and Rhia no
dded wordlessly. He squeezed her hand reassuringly and guided her through the noisy crowd of people.
The room where the competition was to be held was intimidatingly large. There was a large judges’ table in the front, a stage where the competitors would be cooking, and rows and rows of folding chairs for spectators. People ran back and forth, assembling the cooking apparatuses and checking to see that all the food was stocked and organized. The whole place was buzzing with activity and chatter. The lights seemed overly-bright; Rhia looked up and saw what looked like floodlights or spotlights covering the ceiling and walls. She felt slightly nauseous as the heat from the lights made her break out in a faint sweat. She leaned against Brandon, pressing her face into the cool fabric of his suit jacket, inhaling his scent and trying to calm her racing heart.
“Are you ok?” he asked, his voice tinged with alarm.
“Yeah, it’s just a little…overwhelming in here,” she murmured, taking deep breaths and closing her eyes against the harsh light.
“It’ll calm down once everything’s set up,” he tried to reassure her, rubbing her back.
“ I just feel like I’m going to have a panic attack or something. Can we go back out into the hall please?”
He wrapped an arm around her shoulder and led her back out into the hallway, which was much cooler and dimly lit. It was quiet there, with only a few people passing through. Rhia sat on an armchair which had been pushed against the wall. She wiped the sweat from her brow and collapsed back into the chair, looking up at Brandon, who was gazing down at her with concern in his eyes.
“Better?” he asked.
“A bit,” she responded, trying to muster a smile. “Sorry I’m being such a baby. I don’t know what’s wrong with me today.”
“What can I do?” He knelt down in front of her, his palms on her knees.
“Honestly, I don’t know.” She thought for a moment, running her fingers over the knuckles of his hands. An absurd thought ran through her head.
“Maybe… No. Never mind.” She giggled and shook her head.
“What? Tell me,” he looked at her, nodding encouragingly.
“Well… There’s only one thing I can think of that always calms me down. But it’s probably out of the question.”
“You mean…” He smiled as recognition dawned in his face.
She laughed and blushed; he knew what she was talking about: sex. It was the one thing that always made her feel at peace. Brandon always told her she was like a guy, because every time they finished having sex, she almost always passed out immediately, and slept like a rock. Every time she had an exam, every time she was frustrated or depressed about something, every time she had a fight with one of her friends, she always wanted to fuck. Sex calmed her down more than anything else, no doubt about it.
“Let’s do it.” He grinned at her mischievously.
CHAPTER 3
“We can’t. There’s not enough time.”
“Sure there is. We can do it over there.” He pointed to a door hidden down a small hallway leading off the main hall they were sitting in. She squinted through the darkness and saw a sign on the door – it was a men’s room.
“I can’t go in there!”
“Sure you can. There’s no one around. C’mon, it won’t take long. I promise you I’ll make you feel better.” He slipped a hand up her thigh, brushing his fingers against the crotch of her starched, white pants. She shivered at his touch, felt herself getting a bit wet. She knew this was a bad idea, but now she was getting horny, and she needed to relieve this anxiety somehow.
“Ok,” she whispered, and he grabbed her hands and hauled her up to a standing position. Looking around furtively, they walked quickly to the men’s room, making sure they weren’t seen as they pushed open the door and entered the small, white room.
It was surprisingly clean and pleasant for a men’s bathroom. There were flowers on the counter, two clean stalls, and three urinals. There was even a small couch pushed against one wall; the opposite wall was mirrored. The lighting was dim and soothing. Faint jazz music piped in from some hidden speakers. If there ever was a good bathroom to fuck in, this was that bathroom.
Rhia giggled and turned to Brandon. He took off her hat and placed it on the counter, then grabbed her by the shoulders and kissed her deep and hard. She returned his kiss eagerly, exploring his mouth with her tongue, moaning as she felt his hand squeeze her breast roughly. She pushed him down onto the couch and stripped off her coat, then pulled off her pants. She stood there in her bra and thong, letting his gaze wander over her body for a few seconds before she jumped in his lap, straddling him, feeling his erection press into her through his pants. She groaned and rubbed herself against his hardness, feeling her juices soak through her panties as she ground her crotch against his, pressing her clit into him as she licked and sucked the skin on his neck.
She stood up, unclasped her bra and slid it off her shoulders. Her nipples were almost painfully hard in the cool, dim air of the room. She slid her thong down her thighs and stepped out of it, and stood in front of him completely naked. Walking forward, she knelt in between his thighs and unzipped his pants, pulling them down his hips and tugging them off, throwing them on the floor. She could see his massive erection tenting out the fabric of his boxers, and massaged it slowly and firmly with her hand as he pulled his shirt off over his head. He sat back on the couch and looked down at her, his eyes half-closed with arousal as he watched her stroke his cock through his boxers. She ran her eyes over his body, admiring the bulge of his biceps, the hardness of his pecs, and the rippled muscles of his abdomen. His body was perfect.
She yanked his boxers down, freeing his dick from the constrictive fabric. It was rock-hard. Rhia loved how it looked – at least eight or nine inches long, and thick enough so that she could barely fit her hand around it. It was smooth and warm in her hand, throbbing, the tip wet already. She stuck her tongue out and licked the moisture from the head, feeling him shiver at the touch. She was dripping wet already, and just wanted it inside of her, so she stood up and straddled him once again, slowly lowering herself down until she was resting her slippery lips against the head of his cock.
She gazed down into his eyes as she reached down and guided him into her cunt slowly and deliberately. She gasped as she felt his hugeness stretching her hot, tight hole. She lowered down inch by inch until she was sitting on top of him, completely filled up by his thick, throbbing dick.
He grabbed her ass, kneading it firmly, then wrapped his hands around her hips and rocked her back and forth slowly, so that her clit was grinding against his pelvis in the way he knew she loved. She closed her eyes and let her head fall backwards, moving her hips faster, filling her hands with her tits and pinching the nipples hard, biting her lip, already feeling like she was close to orgasm.
All of a sudden she heard a sound behind her. She stopped moving, whipping her head around. Someone else was in the bathroom. A man stood in the doorway, his face in shadow. She yelped and jumped off of Brandon, scrabbling to pick her coat up from the floor to cover herself.
Brandon yanked his boxers off the couch and held them to his crotch. They sat frozen side by side on the couch. The stranger took a few steps towards them, then stopped.
CHAPTER 4
Rhia could see by the way he was dressed that he was also a chef. Even taller than Brandon, he towered over them, a wry smile on his admittedly handsome face. He had black hair and wicked-looking blue eyes. He fixed his gaze on Rhia, smirking as he looked her up and down.
“Well, what have we here?” His voice was deep, with a trace of laughter in it.
Rhia reached down to pick up the rest of her clothes off the floor, but the man moved forward and stepped on them, sliding them away from her with his shoe. She looked up at him, her eyes flaring with anger, but he just chuckled.
“Give her the clothes,” Brandon commanded, his voice tinged with anger.
The stranger shook his head and dragged the mound o
f clothing closer to him, stooping to pick it up and place it on the counter.
“I like her the way she is,” he smirked. “And I have an idea. You’re going to share her.”
Brandon laughed in disbelief. “Seriously? I don’t think so, man. Just give her the clothes and we’ll be out of your way.”
“You’re in the competition, right sweetie?” He directed the question at Rhia.
“Don’t call me sweetie. But yeah, I’m competing.”
“Well what do you think the committee would say if I told them that you’re in this bathroom fucking your boyfriend right now? I think you’d be disqualified.”
“You wanker!” Rhia yelled, her cheeks blazing with anger and humiliation. “You can’t do that!”
“Oh but I can,” the handsome stranger murmured, taking a step closer to Rhia. She drew back against the couch.
Rhia thought for a minute. He was right. If she got caught having sex with Brandon in the men’s room, she would be kicked out of the competition. What they were doing was totally unprofessional and against the rules. If she was disqualified, she would lose her one chance at paying her tuition; it would mean that all of her hard work and studying had been for nothing. She would be humiliated. She wouldn’t be able to live with herself. She couldn’t see any way out of it except to give the guy what he wanted. He was attractive, at least, even though he seemed like an asshole. But would Brandon ever go for it?
CHAPTER 5
Rhia turned to her boyfriend. “Babe, I think he’s right. I can’t get disqualified from the competition. It’ll ruin my career and I’ll have to drop out of school. I think we need to do what he wants.”
She had expected him to freak out, to have some kind of jealous meltdown. But instead, he looked at her thoughtfully, and after a few moments, he said, “Ok, Rhia. It’s whatever you want. I know you need to win this competition. If you think this is what you need to do, and it’s ok with you, then it’s ok with me.”