by S. E. Law
I step forward with a knowing smile.
“You’re the one who’s beautiful,” I tell her.
Kaylee blushes. “Thank you. You look nice, too.”
I’m wearing a button-down and jeans. She looks much more put-together than I do, but I’ll take the compliment.
“Will you be needing anything further, sir?” Edwards asks politely.
I shake my head.
“No, thank you. Enjoy the rest of your day.”
“Thank you, sir.”
Edwards disappears into the house. Kaylee stands awkwardly, like she’s not sure what to do.
“Please, come sit,” I request, pulling out a chair for her. “Lunch is ready.”
Kaylee smooths down her skirt as she sits, and I admire her genteel manner.
“I had my chef prepare sandwiches for us,” I say. “I hope that’s okay. They’re grilled tomato, thyme, mozzarella, and prosciutto.”
“Sounds delicious,” she smiles. “Although I admit I’m more of ham and cheese girl.”
I grin at her.
“Don’t worry, because mozzarella and prosciutto are just fancy-speak for ham and cheese. It’s the same thing.”
She giggles and the tension is broken. I place one of the baguettes on Kaylee’s plate and then one on my own. I also add a handful of hand-cut potato chips. My chef makes the best in Pennsylvania, and I’ll testify to that under oath.
Kaylee takes a bite of the sandwich and moans. A bit of tomato juice dribbles down her chin. She cleans it up quickly with a napkin.
“This is delicious. My compliments to your chef.”
I wink.
“I’ll be sure to let her know you like the meal. She always thinks that I hate her stuff, but in fact, the opposite is true. I love her cooking.”
Kaylee throws me a weird look.
“But why would she think that?”
I laugh.
“Because Chef Maria always prepares too much, and there’s no way I can finish it. But she’s Italian, so whenever there are any leftovers, she thinks it’s her fault. I’ve told her a million times it’s not that. It’s because I’m one man, and I can’t eat five sandwiches for lunch, but she goes overboard still.”
Kaylee giggles.
“Five sandwiches in one go does sound like a lot. Do you eat outside a lot?”
I smile while taking another huge bite of prosciutto.
“When the weather’s nice, yes. Why, do you eat outdoors often when you’re at home?”
Kaylee shifts in her seat uncomfortably and blushes a bit.
“No, not exactly. I live in a trailer park remember? Outdoors would mean on a plastic deck chair among the weeds with cars parked not fifteen feet away.”
I nod.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to bring that up.”
She shakes her head.
“No, it’s okay. I want to be honest about where I’m from. I’m definitely not from a place like this, and I think if you saw where I live, you’d be shocked.”
I’m silent for a moment.
“No, I think I’d be okay with it. I’m not heartless.”
She smiles ruefully.
“Well, it’s a far cry from Millbrook Manor, I’m warning you.”
I laugh.
“I stand forewarned.”
She smiles. Does that mean she’s inviting me to her place sometime? My heart leaps a bit because I’m curious about Kaylee and her life. She’s shy yet charismatic; clearly very smart; and not at all embarrassed about her humble beginnings. It’s so different from the women I’m used to, who like to weave stories about growing up as Daddy’s little girl in a huge mansion.
Then, I decide to change the subject.
“Are you still in school, Kaylee?” I ask.
She nods.
“I am. I’m a senior at Millbrook High, and I’ll be graduating in a few months.”
I stare at her, suddenly taken aback.
“Please tell me you’re eighteen.”
She throws her head back and laughs, the tinkling melody floating in the air.
“I am, Elliot. Don’t worry, I’m legal.”
“Good,” I say, as my heart rate decelerates a bit. “You had me worried for a minute there. Do you have plans for after graduation?”
She blushes again and looks down.
“I don’t know, to be honest.”
She bites her lip and won’t meet my eyes. Clearly, there’s something going on, but I’m not sure how to approach it.
Maybe I need to change tactics. There’s no sense in probing her on uncomfortable topics. I want her to enjoy this meal, and to enjoy her time with me. Instead, I turn back to Millbrook High, which seems like safer territory.
“And how are your classes?”
Kaylee shrugs a little.
“School is fine. I’m not the best student, to be honest. I’ve never been very academic.”
I can understand that. I nod.
“I never was, either. I preferred goofing off with my friends to learning. The classroom was never the right place for me.”
Kaylee nods too, fingering a piece of bread.
“I don’t learn well from reading and writing about things. It never seems to sink in that way. I guess I’m more hands-on, and I need that in order for things to make sense. I guess that’s why my grades are so terrible.”
I nod.
“Yeah, absolutely. Everyone learns differently, and there are a lot of techniques to teaching successfully. I don’t think schools are well-prepared to deal with that, however. This recent pandemic has made it clear that schools aren’t exactly the most versatile institutions.”
She nods her head ruefully.
“No, they certainly aren’t, especially Millbrook High. They weren’t able to get our remote learning classes up for a long time. Regardless, the only class I do well in is Home Economics, and it’s precisely because it’s a hands-on course. We don’t have that anymore, obviously.”
I grin.
“Yeah, it would be pretty hard to translate Home Ec into a web-based course. But I had no idea that schools still offered this type of class. I thought they did away with trying to teach kids how to survive on their own. Now, we just have Baby Einsteins who listen to Mozart.”
Kaylee laughs, the sound tinkling merrily.
“I can’t speak for other schools, but Millbrook High has a Home Ec program. It makes sense though, because Millbrook is considered a vocational school.”
I stare at her for a moment, surprised.
“Is that so?”
She nods.
“Yeah. They teach a lot of trades at our school. There are programs for people who want to be electricians, woodworkers, and even IT specialists. It’s cool to get to test out a bunch of different classes.”
But I’m not letting her off the hook so easily.
“Yes, but how did you get on the vocational track?”
She sighs.
“I guess it probably goes back to when I was a kid. Again, I’ve never really been good at taking tests, so my scores were really low. And when you have a mother like mine, she’s not exactly going to advocate for you. So they put me in the “slow” track in junior high, and when it came time to high school, the counselor advised me to choose to Millbrook. It makes sense. I doubt I’m going to be a rocket scientist after I graduate,” she says ruefully.
I nod slowly.
“Yes, but … well, I’m not sure. I thought most kids were college-bound these days.”
Kaylee shakes her head.
“Not at Millbrook, they’re not. I know the school was named after an illustrious ancestor of yours, but my friends and I … well, we’re not going to be CEOs, let’s just say.”
Hmm, this is food for thought. I genuinely thought all Millennials were focused on college. In fact, I thought Millennials were in a hard-fought, take-no-prisoners competition to get into Harvard, or at least one of the Ivy League schools. Yet, Kaylee seems to have completely differe
nt values. Not that that’s a bad thing. When I saw how parents cheated on behalf of their kids in Operation Varsity Blues, I was just as shocked as the rest of the nation.
I turn back to the curvy girl.
“But you focus on Home Ec. Is that a career track at your school?”
Kaylee shakes her head.
“Unfortunately, it’s not. It’s really just extracurriculars, but I really like the courses. We learn sewing, knitting, and other household skills. The part I love, though, is the cooking.”
I grin at her.
“Then you’re going to love the pie Chef Maria is bringing out.”
She instantly lights up.
“How did you know I love pie?”
I smirk a bit.
“Just an educated guess. Not yet though. Let’s finish up before digging into the apple meringue.”
“Apple meringue!” she practically squeals. “Oh my god, I can’t wait.”
I lean back and chuckle.
“It’s got your name on it Kaylee. But first, lunch. So are you planning to be a chef?” I ask.
She lights up.
“How did you guess? I’d love to be a chef someday. My kitchen isn’t very big, but I still cook when I can. My mom doesn’t like to get too adventurous with her food, so if I want to experiment, I’m usually cooking for myself.”
“Any practice is good,” I nod.
She smiles.
“Thanks. I know being a chef is a ridiculous dream, but it really speaks to me.”
I cock my head to the side, looking at her curiously.
“But why is it ridiculous?”
She sighs a bit.
“Sometimes, I think cleaning peoples’ houses might be all I’m cut out for. Isn’t that sad? Sometimes, I feel like I’m permanently stuck at the bottom of the totem pole.”
Kaylee suddenly stares down at her plate, embarrassed by the admission. Her cheeks flush, and she stops chewing for a moment.
I take her hand comfortingly.
“If it’s your dream, you should go for it, sweetheart.”
She shakes her head, still not looking at me.
“Mr. Millbrook –”
I stop her for a moment.
“Actually, my last name is Connery, not Millbrook. But call me Elliot, sweetheart.”
She takes another deep breath and meets my eyes.
“Elliot, you make it sound so easy when you put it like that, but it’s not like that. At least, not for me. I support my mom financially. Without me, Coralie wouldn’t even be able to afford the trailer. Besides, I don’t have the money to go to college. How am I supposed to become a chef if I can’t even get an education?”
I think for a moment, drumming my fingers on the tablecloth.
“Most chefs never go to culinary school, actually. They learn the trade through apprenticeships, sweetheart.”
Her forehead scrunches a bit.
“Really? I didn’t know that.”
I nod.
“It’s true. It’s like you were saying before: some people learn better through doing, and I think most chefs are that way. My personal chef, Maria, studied at Michelin star restaurants before deciding to go the private route.”
Kaylee looks defeated again.
“I doubt any Michelin star chef would hire a girl from the poor part of Millbrook, Pennsylvania.”
I shake my head.
“Don’t sell yourself short, Kaylee. Where you’re from doesn’t matter. It’s where you want to go, and how you put yourself in a position to get there.”
She stares at me.
“I’m not sure I know what you mean.”
“All I’m saying, sweet girl, is that 99% of life is showing up and being prepared for opportunity when it knocks. I think you’ve got the goods, Kaylee. You’re ambitious, you’re responsible, and you’re already taking care of your mom. When you’re a world-famous chef running your own Michelin-starred restaurant, you’ll remember my words and thank me.”
Kaylee laughs so hard that water almost spurts out of her nose.
“If only.”
But I won’t let her doubt me.
“You know, I happen to have a few friends in the restaurant business. Maybe I can talk to a few of them and hook you up with an internship at a restaurant.”
Her eyes go wide, and she’s practically trembling now.
“You would do that for me, Elliot? I’d appreciate it so much.”
I take her small hand in my own, the contrast of my bronzed fingers stark against her pale palm.
“Of course, I would. I want you to go for your dream.”
She bites her lip.
“But you don’t really know me.”
I cock my head to one side.
“I know you enough, Kaylee. Trust me, this is a great opportunity for you. You’ve been working hard your entire life, it sounds like. Let a rich man be your benefactor for once. Even if it’s just in a small way.”
She gnaws her lip a bit.
“But this isn’t small.”
I laugh.
“It’s small-ish, let’s say. But yes, it could make a world of difference for a young woman starting out in her career. Let me do this for you, sweetheart.”
She nods slowly, her small fingers twining around mine.
“Thank you, Elliot,” she says in a hushed voice while looking down. “I appreciate it so much.”
I give her hand an encouraging squeeze.
“Okay, that’s enough career-talk for now. Let’s move onto something more fun and delicious, at least. How about that apple meringue pie?”
Her eyes immediately light up, and she claps her hands with pleasure.
“Yes, please!”
I chuckle and get up from the table. I used to have a live-in maid named Carmen, but she decided to retire about a month ago. Before that, Carmen was slowing down, but I couldn’t fire her. She was more like a mother to me than an employee. She’d been working at the house since before I was born, that’s how far back our history goes.
I suppose that’s why Edwards hired the cleaning service. Until we find another live-in maid, the service will be coming in every two weeks. But for right now, I can handle clearing off the table myself. The kitchen staff does the dishes, but I can help them out by taking them to the kitchen.
I grab the apple meringue pie from the fridge and two small plates. I cut two slices at the counter inside, and then carry them to where Kaylee still sits on the patio. She smiles peacefully as she takes in the garden. I have a sudden vision of Kaylee having a long lunch here in the future, one hand resting on her burgeoning stomach as a little one kicks inside. She’s serene and glowing from her pregnancy, her brown curls waving about her soldiers.
Holy shit, I’ve totally lost it.
But I manage to stay calm, and set her plate in front of her with a steady hand.
“Apple meringue for your tasting enjoyment, my lady.”
She positively beams at me.
“It looks delicious, Elliot. Thank you so much.”
Kaylee lifts a tentative forkful to her lips. She sniffs it, checks out the texture, and then finally shovels it into her mouth. So unladylike, but also exactly my type.
“Oh my God. That’s delicious!”
I grin at her. “I’m glad you like it. But you’ve got something right here…”
I point to my own lip to indicate where she has a bit of meringue. She tries to get it with her tongue, but it’s impossible.
I move around to her side of the table and swipe the mess away with my thumb. I don’t move my hand away immediately, and electricity courses through the air. Our eyes meet, and the same thrill I felt when we met yesterday buzzes through my body. Slowly, I lean forward and brush my lips against hers.
Kaylee leans into the kiss. Her response is exactly what I’d hoped for, and her big breasts brush against my arm.
We pull away, and I meet her eyes again.
“I want you,” I growl. “Apple meringue be
damned.”
She smiles coyly, and her brown eyes flash.
“Oh good, because you can have me, big boy. This is all yours,” she says, while shimmying that voluptuous body. My fingers tangle in Kaylee’s hair, pulling her close to me. She stands so that our bodies are flush against each other.
I slide a hand up her dress and touch a large breast through her bra. She moans against me, nibbling on my lip.
“Fuck baby, what size are these?” I grunt. “I love how you’re so big.”
She giggles.
“They’re Double Ds,” she replies. “You like?” she asks before pulling one out from the deep vee of her dress. I don’t even reply. I merely reach down and latch onto a pink crest, sucking that delectable tip into my mouth.
She moans and tilts her head back, delicate profile raised to the sky.
“Fuck that feels good,” she whispers, already beginning to grind against me. “Oh Elliot.”
I love how she’s a lady and a tramp mixed into one, but right now, I want the tramp. I want her to show me all the tricks she learned at the trailer park. With one hand, I dip into the meringue on the table and spread some of the white frosting onto her pebbled nipple. Then I lean down, and lick it all off.
“Ooooh,” she murmurs with a sly smile. “What other filth do you have planned, big boy?”
I merely smile, dipping my finger once again into the meringue. But this time, I don’t swipe it onto her tit. Instead, I reach beneath her skirt and pull her panties aside before wiping it all over that creamy pussy. She’s already wet and swollen, and her head falls back as I skate over her clit.
“Mmmm!” is Kaylee’s delighted wail. “Fuck!”
But even that’s not enough.
“I’m going to take you,” I growl, while helping her turn around. Then I push the curvy girl over until her breasts are smashed flat against the table. Her hips are high up in the air, and with a quick movement, I tear her panties straight off. Then I dip my finger into the meringue and wipe some over her asshole. Of course, there’s only one way for this to end. Slowly, I lean forward, holding her big cheeks apart. Her hidden hole is covered in whipped cream, but I dip my tongue in, questing for her secret place.
“Mmmm!” she cries out, fingers clenching as I slip my tongue into her anus. “Oh fuck!”