Table of Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
About the Author
www.lazydaypub.com
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Digital ISBN- 9781612580265
Print ISBN- 1-61258-026-2
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
Copyright © 2011 A ‘Jeeper’ Wade
Cover art by Bret Poinier
This book is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, any events or locales is purely coincidental. The names, characters, places and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination and are not to be construed as real.
No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission from the publisher LazyDay, with the exception of quotes used in reviews and critical articles.
Dedication
Never did I think I would write a book. Let alone have it published and then be asked to write a dedication. First I would like to thank all my friends on Twitter. Your kind words of encouragement during this process have been uplifting and greatly appreciated. I couldn’t ask for better people to be associated with. I would like to thank Alta Hensley for looking for some cowboy inspiration. You opened up a whole new world for me, for that I will be forever thankful.
I dedicate this book to my wife Kim. Your love and understanding means the world to me. I couldn’t have asked for a better wife, lover, mother of my children and friend. You have always been the one to pick me up and dust me off when I’ve fallen. You truly are my better half. I love you now and forever.
REFIRED
BY
A ‘JEEPER’ WADE
Chapter 1
“Fire down!” Sylas shouted to the brigade. His cooks snapped to, the night finished with a flare.
120 covers six hours along with a pile of restaurant drama. Sylas headed to the office to wrap up some paperwork. He looked forward to his nightly bourbon at the bar. This became his routine the last few years after working a tough shift. Sylas, the executive Chef at Le Bonheur a small upscale French restaurant in Chambersburg. He gave some instructions to the cleanup crew before heading out for the night. As he walked into the dining room, he saw the last of the guests getting ready to leave, a group of ladies out for a night on the town.
“Are you the Chef?” one of the ladies asked.
“Yes, I am.” Sylas stated bluntly, pausing briefly.
“Our dinner was wonderful, are you dessert?” The women all snickered.
Sylas’s broad shoulders and strong arms filled out his chef’s jacket nicely. His rigid jaw line and piercing brown eyes always got the attention of anyone he spoke to. By his size, it was obvious he went to the gym. He paused for a moment, flattered by the attention. If this were any other night he would have offered to take the ladies out for a good time, but tonight things were different. The shift did not go as smoothly as he would have liked. Sylas just smiled, continuing to walk towards the door. He had only one thing in mind; washing the taste of the night down with a tall glass of bourbon.
With a smirk, he walked out the door heading to his favorite corner bar. He sauntered in and his drink was waiting for him.
“How was the night, Sylas?” Tony asked.
“You know, Tony, the usual drama.” Sylas pulled out a stool sitting down for the first time that night.
“We have our share for sure, Sylas. You want something to eat, or are you on your liquid diet?”
“Come on, Tony, you know bourbon is a new food group. I’m good, thanks.”
Sylas finished his first drink when the door to the bar opened. Suddenly, laughing filled the room. Looking over his shoulder he realized the group from the restaurant brought their party over to his quiet corner bar. The girls were loud. Not at all how he wanted to end his night. He sat quietly watching as the group walked in. They were being obnoxious as they stumbled in. Sylas could tell half of them were already drunk. The rest weren’t far behind.
“Hey, Tony, pour me another!” Sylas shouted.
He was being loud hoping the women would take the hint and quiet down. Sylas watched as one of the women approached the bar. She whispered something to Tony. Tony shook his head and within a minute he slid a shot over to Sylas.
“Tony, what is this?” Sylas sat there with a more than puzzled look on his face.
“It’s from the girl that I was talking to, the one in the black sweater. She’s with that group over there.”
Sylas looked over, lifted the shot, and drank it. As he finished the shot, he noticed she left the table. She staggered in his direction.
“My name is Sarah.” She pulled out a barstool, stumbled a bit before sitting down. Her head cocked to the side and her eyes half opened, made it obvious to anyone she spoke to she must have been drinking for a while.
Sylas wasn’t really in the mood for entertaining this evening, but he wasn’t one to turn down the company of a pretty lady. Sarah was striking; her blonde hair framed the pixie features of her face. Her black jeans hugged her hips showing off her tone legs. Her shirt clung to her ample chest. Sylas made small talk as the two of them moved closer to each other continuing to drink. Sylas sensed his pulse pick up and a twinge in his pants when Sarah touched his arm. He decided then that he would make his move. He was feeling a bit restless sitting so taking this opportunity he decided to get to know Sarah a bit better.
“Care to dance?” Sylas asked, knowing she would say yes.
“Sure, I would love to dance.” Sarah headed to the dance floor practically dragging Sylas along.
The music started to play. Sylas and Sarah danced closely. He grabbed her hips, pulling her towards him. Sarah could feel the bulge in his pants pressed against her. She immediately slid her hand down to let him know she wanted more than a dance. Sylas smiled, leaning in for a kiss.
“Why don’t we get out of here and continue this dance back at my place?” Sylas pulled away, staring into her crystal blue eyes.
“Yes, let me just gather my things and let my friends know where I’m going. I’ll be right back.” Sarah kissed him lightly.
Sylas paid his tab. The two walked out of the bar, heading back to his apartment. It was a short walk with little conversation. As they approached his place, he wondered to himself if he was getting too old for these games.
“Make yourself at home; can I get you a drink?” Sylas asked taking her coat. He hung it on the coat rack by the door.
“I’ll have a glass of wine.” She looked around the apartment settling in on the couch.
Sylas poured her a glass of a Kendall Jackson Chardonnay he kept in the fridge just for occasions like this. He grabbed himself a glass of bourbon, turned on the radio and headed into the living room. He handed Sarah her wine and sat down next to her on the couch. Sylas played this game plenty of times before, some light small talk, which leads to the bedroom, then they seal the deal and she’s out the door. This time he sat restless, almost on the verge of being uncomfortable. They sipped their drinks, just starring at each other waiting for the other to break the silence. Sylas looked her in the eye. He took Sarah’s wine, and placed it on the table. He leaned in to kiss her, their lips touched, and he was taken by the softness of this kiss. Their mouths opened allowing their tongues to dance.
“Let’s move this to the bedroom,” Sarah gasped for breath.
“The bedroom is this way.” Sylas took her hand leading her down the small hallway.
The
ir lips locked again, this time with more force, more purpose. Sylas lifted Sarah’s sweater up over her head exposing a black lace bra, and soft supple breasts. He released them from their confines. He immediately took a nipple into his mouth, gently nipping. His tongue swirling first one nipple and then the next. Sarah moaned in pleasure. He picked her up and placed her on the bed. She lifted Sylas shirt off exposing his rippled abs. His strong chest drove her into a frenzy. Her hands were working to free him of his jeans while his rigid cock tried to break through the fabric. Sylas reached down in between her legs. He could feel her wetness through her pants. Sylas unbuttoned her jeans slipping them over her hips taking her lace panties along with them. Now fully naked, the two became a twisted mass of flesh on the bed.
“Your pussy is so wet.” Sylas whispered slowly lowering his mouth to her mound. Immediately his mouth found her clit teasingly flicking it with his tongue.
“Oh my god, you are going to make me come right now!” Sarah’s moans intensified, becoming louder and louder.
Sylas immediately stopped, spread her legs and slid his cock to the entrance of her pussy; with one quick thrust he buried himself deep. He felt her stretch around him, a quick quiver. She let out a moan that only drove him deeper. Sylas began the rhythmic dance, slow at first building the pleasure; then faster, deeper, hard, until orgasm after orgasm overtook her body. She shook beneath him gasping for breath as he continued to thrust his hard cock deep inside her.
“Don’t stop, please oh please, never stop!” Sarah wailed, and Sylas pulled himself out spilling his seed on her stomach.
Sylas kissed her lightly and got up to go to clean himself up. He looked back at her lying on the bed, completely satisfied. He looked in the bathroom mirror wondering if he would ever be more than just a good fuck. When would he feel the same emotions these women do when they are with him? He cleaned up got dressed. He handed Sarah a towel, and left the bedroom. He went out to the living room grabbed his bourbon finishing what remained in his glass. A few minutes later, Sarah came out of the bedroom dressed, smiling, looking completely satisfied.
“It’s getting late,” Sylas bluntly stated, trying to give the hint that she should leave.
“Yes, it is. Can we do this again sometime?” Sarah asked excitedly.
“I think we’ll leave it at this. You’re great, but I’m broken. You don’t need to get mixed up with a guy like me.”
That was the most honest, true feeling he spoke all night. With a look of surprise, tears welling in her eyes, Sarah dashed out of his apartment. Sylas sat on the couch, his apartment quiet now. He realized he needed a change. Somewhere out there must be happiness for him. Sylas slowly got up to get a refill. Walking to the kitchen, he saw Sarah left her bra on the hall floor. She was a nice girl, but she did not want to get involved with a guy like him. Women were always drawn to him because of his profession. They find it sexy. Wanting him to cook for them or teach them how to make a certain dish. Working as a chef at La Bonheur had really taken all passion he had for cooking out of him. It’s not as glamorous as people assumed. Cooking long hours in a hot kitchen was hardly sexy. The constant yelling, demanding suited Sylas, however. The long hours were nothing to him. He ran the kitchen like a General runs an army, everyone knew who was in charge. You never questioned the chef, or else.
When Sylas moved into the town of Chambersburg he started working at Le Bonheur. He was young, fresh, out of culinary school, the world was his. Always happy at work creating dishes that impressed the owner, Mr. Anselmo, but the executive chef at the time hailed from the old school. You needed to earn your spot. He and Sylas went through more than a few tough conversations. Mr. Anselmo always stood behind Sylas. He wanted change, so he put his faith in Sylas. Slowly he began to trust in him and his abilities. Sylas possessed a creativity, a passion for food. The dishes he made were not only appealing to the eye, but tasted amazing. Mr. Anselmo fired the executive chef appointing Sylas the new executive chef. At that time in his life Sylas was flying high. At the age of twenty-six, his career was taking off. Business boomed with the new dishes Sylas created, La Bonheur was the talk of the town. The restaurant’s reservation log filled every week. Sylas gained quite the reputation for being an amazing young talent.
Pouring another glass of bourbon, Sylas slowly began to reflect on the events of the past few months. Things began to unravel with the death of his grandfather. Sylas, never close to his parents, often turned to his grandfather for advice. He always told Sylas to chase his dreams. His grandfather gave him the desire to cook, to be creative in the kitchen. He always inspired him. Despite having little education, Sylas’s grandfather was one of the smartest men he ever knew.
“I wonder what he would think of me now, broken and giving up on my dreams.” Sylas said out loud, draining the last drop from his glass. Sylas, now thirty, desired settling down. He wanted to find the right woman to begin a family with.
He sat down on the couch again. His mind began to wander. Why can’t I find the one? That one girl who will fix him, give him a reason to try, to move on from his past. Sure, he had girls that would throw themselves at him at the bar. Women always found his straightforward direct approach to life enchanting. He never held back, always speaking his mind. What people didn’t know was how torn he was on the inside. He desired true love, the soft touch of a woman. Someone to tell him everything is all right, a reason to fight, someone to re-ignite his passion in life. He wanted a more stable life. Being a chef did not leave much time for dating. It was all short term relationships or one night stands. Sylas dreamed of stability, a wife to come home to. He longed for more traditional values in his life.
As he sat there on the couch with the radio playing lightly in the background, he began to drift off. His grandfather’s recent death made him rethink what he wanted. Life is short; this business will age you faster than you think. He got into this line of work to open his own restaurant. Build a successful career. Then, one-day settle down like many people before him. Sylas wondered why he couldn’t have both, the big shot chef restaurant career along with a wife and family. To find that life meant finding a woman that wanted the same things. Sylas knew it would devastate Mr. Anselmo if he left Le Bonheur, but the only way he could change was to make a clean break. He needed to start fresh in a new town where he wouldn’t have this playboy reputation. Sylas knew what must be done. Tomorrow when he went to work the changes would get put into motion.
Chapter 2
Sylas woke up on the couch as usual. His head pounding, light headed and a little dizzy, he slowly moved towards the bathroom. Reaching in the medicine cabinet he grabbed a few tablets of ibuprofen. This became his normal routine as of late. Drink too much; wake up feeling like shit, downing some painkillers. Turning on the shower, Sylas stripped out of his clothes and got in. While climbing in the shower, he heard his cell phone ringing. He said to himself as the hot water hit his face, it’s probably Sarah wanting to come get her bra she so conveniently left behind.
Getting out of the bathroom, Sylas grabbed his phone and noticed a new voicemail. He played back the message figuring she would blister him with some sort of angry retort to last night since she left speechless. Sylas listened, pleasantly surprised to hear Mr. Anselmo’s voice on the recording. As the message played, his mood changed from joy to concern. Mr. Anselmo wanted to call an emergency staff meeting. That struck Sylas as odd. It was Sunday and Le Bonheur was closed on Sundays. Hung over and pissed off, Sylas got dressed. He headed out the door, taking the short walk to work.
The brief trip seemed tougher than usual for Sylas. Not sure if it was the drinking, or perhaps the fact that his mind was racing from thing to thing all night leaving him feeling tired. As he approached Le Bonheur, some of the wait staff were milling around outside.
“Hey, Tracy, what’s this meeting all about?” Sylas asked. Tracy, the head server, worked with Mr. Anselmo from almost the beginning.
“Not sure, Sylas. He wouldn’t even tell
me. It has to be important for him to call a meeting on a Sunday.” Sylas sensed concern in her voice.
“It better be good news, I can’t take one more bit of bad news right now. I’m feeling cursed.” Sylas opened the door and walked in.
The staff gathered around. Mr. Anselmo stood in the far corner of the dining room. His face possessed a concerned look having Sylas fearing the worst. The rest of the staff came in and everyone grabbed a seat. Sylas immediately approached Mr. Anselmo. Sylas noticed he didn’t make eye contact as he walked over. Sylas felt a pit in his stomach assuming the worst.
“Thank you all for coming. I know you all enjoy your Sunday off, but what I need to say cannot wait any longer.” Mr. Anselmo face looked very serious.
Sylas looked around the room and noticed the rest of the staff looked just as concerned as he did. Some bomb was going to be dropped on them right now. Sylas grew more and more anxious by the moment. Sylas shifted in his seat, scanning the room. Tracy sat with several of the wait staff drinking coffee. His cooks all barely kept their heads up right now. They all party too hard, drink way too much, but that is life behind the dining room walls.
“As you all know, I’m no spring chicken, and I’m not getting any younger.” Mr. Anselmo tried to lighten the mood with a bit of humor.
“I’ve been in this business longer than most of you have been alive. I’ve seen a lot of things and been through all the ups and downs,” his voice began to shake.
An expression of sadness over took his face. That look confirmed Sylas’s worst fear, bad news. The thoughts which ran through Sylas’s head didn’t help either. Was Mr. Anselmo ill? Was he filing bankruptcy? Was the board of health closing them down? Sylas knew the news would affect the entire staff. Many of these people have families. Children in college, they count on this job to survive. He just wanted him to spill the news. Mr. Anselmo was the type to beat around the bush in difficult situations. He mastered the art of dragging a short story into a mini-series. The anticipation ate at him so he spoke up.
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