by Krista Lakes
"Looks like we aren’t the first ones here." Mr. Hayes glanced around and pulled the Town Car into a spot near the back door. "Where is his car, though?"
"He doesn’t have a car."
Mr. Hayes scoffed, "Why wouldn’t he have a car?"
"Why would he? He’s staying at The Starmore until he gets settled, and you know they would give him a ride to China if he asked for one."
The local ritzy hotel, The Starmore was a luxury tower that rose high above the city’s bustling streets. Only the most elite businessmen stayed there, including Mr. Hayes. Tracy, on the other hand, had only ever heard about it.
Mr. Hayes chuckled. "I suppose you’re right."
They climbed out of the car and were immediately hit by the wafting smell of bacon, garlic and simmering onions, along with sage and many other scents serving as undertones."I hope that’s coming from my restaurant."
"Well let’s go find out."Tracy hurried through the unlocked back door. When she stepped in, a more concentrated form of the outside smell hit her in the face. It was the most welcoming assault on her senses that she’d ever experienced.
"Gordon?" she called out.
The famous chef peeked his head around the corner. He had a black bandana wrapped around his head and his chiseled cheeks glistened with small beads of sweat. It was obvious that he had been working for quite some time.
They locked eyes just long enough for her to see him sizing her up. It was a look that she (and most women on the planet) knew well, though his stolen glances at her body were stealthy. Still, Tracy saw his eyes quickly taking in the feminine curves of her body, all the way up to the loose, tousled curls that she had carefully ironed in. His pupils dilated enough that she blushed.
"Hey there! Is this the elusive Paul Hayes?" he asked, pretending as if he hadn't just checked her out.
Mr. Hayes smiled and nodded. "Nice to meet you."
"Same to you," Gordon said. "Give me just a minute?"
Tracy responded this time. "Sure. We’ll be around the corner."
He smiled and ducked back behind the eggshell-colored column. Mr. Hayes reached out and touched Tracy’s lower back. A patch of it was exposed by a low sling of black fabric that hung just above her round ass. The whole thing draped off of her in a way that reminded her of a Greek goddess.
She spun around, feeling a sudden burst of friskiness from out of nowhere. She grinned at him. "Yes, Mr. Hayes?"
It felt good to smile. To flirt. It had been some time since she actually felt like her old self. Months, maybe.
"He’s more handsome than I was imagining," Mr. Hayes observed. Tracy thought there might even be a hint of jealousy.
Tracy gave up a short laugh and let her tense shoulders relax a little. After all, this might be the only time in her life where she would be sitting down with a world-renowned chef to taste what would become the menu for her restaurant, not to mention the fact that her billionaire boyfriend was there as her guest.
My restaurant, she thought to herself and looked around. Though Gordon bought a few things for their meal, the shelves were still mostly bare. They wouldn't be for long, though. Tracy couldn’t help but allow herself to revel in all of it. If she tried hard enough, she could almost see the hustle and bustle of a busy Friday night, could just about hear the constant cacophony of pots, pans, dishes and foul-mouthed chefs.
"Hey," Mr. Hayes’ voice snapped her out of her daydream.
Tracy blinked a couple of times. "Yeah?"
"Are you sure you’re okay?"
"Of course!" She grinned abruptly grabbed hold of his tie, pulling him in close. "I’m actually better than okay," she whispered. Their foreheads gently touched and she kissed him with a quick peck. Her fingers tightened around the strip of blue silk.
Before it could go any further, they were interrupted by Gordon clearing his throat. Tracy released Mr. Hayes and spun around on her spiky, nude-colored heels.
"Sorry," he said, wiping his brow with a small towel. "I’m about ready to start."
"Don’t apologize," Mr. Hayes answered before she could. "Is there anything that I can do?"
"Actually, I was thinking that we could drag one of those tables back here. It would make this a whole lot easier and you’d be able to see what goes into the dishes."
Tracy hadn’t even considered that.
"Of course. That’s a great idea. Mr. Hayes," she turned back to him. "You two can handle that, right?"
"No problem."Each man took an end of the table. It wasn’t an easy feat, either. The tables were made of solid mahogany that had been polished and buffed to a sparkling finish that made it hard to get a good grip.
Gordon backed through the doors, sliding his feet backwards as he went so that he didn’t trip over anything. Mr. Hayes followed, the corner of his bottom lip clenched under his upper teeth. Both of them were visibly exerting themselves and something about it made the tender flesh on the inside of Tracy’s thighs begin to tingle.
The feeling was subtle, but seeing the two of them exerting themselves to please her gave Tracy a sudden rush of joy.
"There," Mr. Hayes sighed as the table set down with a thunk. "I’ll grab the chairs, Gordon. You go ahead and take care of the kitchen."
The chiseled chef looked over with a smirk, "I think that I can handle that."
After a few minutes, Tracy and Mr. Hayes were seated comfortably in a pair of plush chairs, with another seat next to Tracy for Gordon. The two of them faced the kitchen where Gordon Baxter was hard at work.
"I brought some champagne, Mr. Hayes," Gordon called to him without looking away from his station. "It’s in the cooler. There are glasses in there, too."
"Excellent. I’ll be right back,” Mr. Hayes said. He touched Tracy on the back of her neck softly before walking away, giving her a little chill. When he was gone, she turned back to the kitchen.
"What are you working on now?" she asked, watching him with wide eyes. He grinned at her, and the heat of his gaze made her core heat.
"Ah," Gordon reached into a metal bin and scooped up a small ball of rice. "I made some risotto yesterday and stuck it in the cooler overnight."
The way that he moved around the kitchen so effortlessly was amazing to Tracy. Seeing anyone perform a skill that they’ve mastered was a treat, but seeing a chef on her payroll do his thing was even more rewarding. There was an easy dexterity in the way that he handled his tools that was fascinating to her, almost entrancing.
Gordon pressed his thumb into the ball of creamy rice, forming a little divot.
"So I take it and form the risotto around a piece of this amazing buffalo mozzarella that I found just a block from here. Then it gets breaded and fried up really quick."
He quickly made five more before dropping them all into a bowl of bread crumbs and tossing them, coating every piece evenly. When that was done, he turned around and dropped each one into the hot fryer.
"For the base," he continued, turning around to pluck down two rectangular appetizer plates, "I whipped up a tomato coulis with garlic, thyme and a couple of other things yesterday."
Mr. Hayes returned with three glasses and a bottle of champagne on ice, and served all three of them. Tracy knew that he was there, but couldn’t tear her eyes away from the skilled chef performing in front of her.
Gordon grabbed a small saucepan from the back of the stove and used a large spoon to put a dollop of the smooth, red sauce on the far end of each plate. Then he jerked the end of the spoon through the mound, pulling it into a decorative wisp of crimson. On top of each one, he placed two small beds of micro greens and topped those with the hot, crispy rice balls.
"Then I’m going to top this simply with a sprinkle of some crisped pancetta, a dusting of fresh Parmesan and a sprinkle of chopped parsley for color. And that’s about it."
He wiped his hands on a towel hanging from his waist before setting the plates down in front of the couple. Tracy looked at her plate, almost afraid to destroy his masterpiece. Al
most, that is, if it wasn’t for the tantalizing aroma wafting up and accosting her nose.
"Dig in," he politely demanded with a smile. "It’s called arancini."
Tracy grabbed her fork and sank the side of it through the golden-brown sphere. She scooped up a piece, using her knife to sweep up a little bit of everything, and slipped it into her mouth. A sudden burst of flavors, from the sweet tomato to the salty pancetta and all of the other subtle flavors in between, filled Tracy’s senses. She mumbled her approval through the mouthful of food and closed her eyes, allowing the elegant layers of flavor to melt into one on her palate.
When she was finally able to swallow and open her eyes again, she exclaimed, "Holy shit!"
Mr. Hayes looked at her sideways and raised his eyebrows. He was struggling to keep from laughing. "That good?"
Tracy let herself chuckle and fell back against her seat. "Yeah. That is amazing, Gordon. Honestly. I don’t even have words right now."
The battle-hardened chef smiled with genuine happiness and replied, "Thank you very much. That is why I do this."
"She’s right though," Mr. Hayes broke in. He swallowed slowly and wiped his mouth with a napkin. "My compliments. It's amazing."
Gordon tipped his head in acknowledgment, then rubbed his hands together. "Go ahead and eat. I’m going to start on the second course."
Tracy smiled and watched him go back to work with reverent fascination. Of course, that didn’t stop her from shoveling down the rich, cheesy goodness as she did so.
Just as she sucked down the last bite, she felt Mr. Hayes’ hand slip under the hem of her dress and come to rest on her thigh. His hot palm tickled her skin.
Tracy set down her fork and turned to him. "Yes, Mr. Hayes?" she asked.
He smirked and moved his chair closer to her, never once letting go of her supple leg.
"I was just thinking that you look beautiful tonight," he replied.
Tracy took a drink of her champagne, letting the dry bubbles carry away the appetizer’s more subtle flavors. She set the glass back down and turned her body to him just slightly, only enough to tease him.
"Thank you." She winked at him, knowing exactly what he was up to.
His hand tried to inch upward, but Tracy pulled away. She was in control here. It felt, in that moment, like the world and everything in it was hers for the taking. Hers, not his. She was the one in control of what happened tonight. And right now, she wanted to focus on her food.
"So what’s next, Chef?" she asked, already drooling for the next course.
Gordon grabbed a sheet pan out of a nearby holding cooler. On it were three rows of round ravioli with neatly crimped edges.
"These are filled with a crimini mushroom reduction, a little ricotta to hold it together and a mix of hard cheeses like Pecorino and Romano." He walked over and unceremoniously dumped the whole lot into a tall pot of boiling water. He didn’t even wince when large drops of the fiery liquid jumped up and landed on his bare arms. "They only take about three minutes to cook. While that happens, I’m going to finish up the sauce."
"And that is?" Tracy asked, breathless.
Gordon grabbed a saucier and held it down so that she could see the simmering, golden liquid inside.
"I’ve got some butter that I’m browning slightly." He set the pan back down and threw in a few green leaves. "There’s some sage and a little lemon juice. Now I can put the pasta in here to finish."
He used a scoop to pull out the floating ravioli and dumped them into the sauce. A spectacular, though short-lived hiss filled the kitchen as the water and hot butter reacted. Columns of steam rose up to Gordon’s face, making his skin glisten .
After a few flicks of the wrist and a generous palmful of Parmesan, he grabbed two deep, square plates and served up the shining disks.
Tracy grabbed her fork in anticipation as he set the plate down in front of her.
"Thank you again, Gordon. This is beautiful," she said, taking a deep inhale of the food.
He nodded silently, waiting for her to take the first bite. When she did, the deep, rich earthiness of the dish was the first thing that she noticed. The browned butter had a sweet, nutty flavor that danced in step with the mushrooms and distinctive sage. After that, the smooth, tangy bite of the cheeses hit her. Then, at the very end, only the slightest hint of the lemon whispered by.
"I can’t say it enough," she set her fork down. "You really are an artist. I can’t find one thing wrong with this. What do you think, Mr. Hayes?"
"I agree completely." Mr. Hayes closed his eyes and savored the food.
Gordon didn’t stay put for very long. "I’m going to clean up a bit and let you two finish before dessert,” he said. “Call me if you need anything."
"Of course. Thank you again." Tracy took another bite of ravioli and resisted the urge to moan with delight.
Gordon grabbed three pans and ducked out of view on his way to the large dish washing area. When he was gone, Mr. Hayes’ hand returned, though further up this time.
"And what do you think you’re doing, sir?" Despite her tone, Tracy was smiling from ear to ear. Even so, she wasn’t about to relinquish control. She grabbed his hand and pressed it down against the hot, soft flesh of her inner thigh. Mr. Hayes leaned in to her so that she could whisper to him, "So you know what would please me, Mr. Hayes?"
He didn’t answer.
"It would please me," she continued, "if you gave me something that I have always wanted."
She moved his hand up so that his fingers formed a cup around her the tiny triangle of silk at her entrance. Deep down, maybe she knew all along that the night wasn’t going to be about only food.
"You know that I'll buy you anything you want," Mr. Hayes replied through erratic breaths.
She pressed his palm against her pussy and rocked her hips.
"You know, it’s not always something that you can just go out and buy," she murmured.
"Then what is it? Please," he begged and forced the heel of his palm against the very top of her slit. "You know that I'll give you anything."
Hearing him like that, the way that he so desperately needed her, made the adrenaline in Tracy’s body begin to flow. Her hands and feet started to tingle and her heart rate jumped. She leaned back and reached her free hand into the top of her dress, massaging her own breast and moaning softly. Mr. Hayes was growing more tense with every second that passed. She could feel it in the way that his fingers strained to feel her without moving the fabric to the side.
Tracy thought back to the way that Gordon had looked at her at the beginning of the night, the way that his eyes wandered over her without regard for Mr. Hayes, who had been standing right behind her the whole time. She closed her eyes and replayed it in her mind while her lover’s rocking palm continued to work her beneath the fine wood table top.
It was becoming harder and harder for her to stay quiet.
"Please," he begged again in a whisper. “Tell me what would please you.”
Tracy turned her head to the side and opened her eyes, locking them with the pleading stare of her captive billionaire. He was, as so many times before, like putty in her hands.
"I want both of you to fuck me," she groaned. The idea of being with two men had always been a fantasy, but with the way Gordon looked at her, tonight seemed like an actual opportunity.
Mr. Hayes’ hand didn’t miss a beat.
"Anything," he answered. She figured that he had been prepared for this for some time, ever since she had given him the night of his life with Jenna Tice.
Tracy reached over to the throbbing erection in his slacks and stroked it only twice. Her touch made him whimper like a puppy.
"Good," she said and pushed his hand off of her. "I think we'll both enjoy it."
Not a moment later, Gordon came back around the corner with a tart pan in his hand.
"Ready for dessert?" he asked, oblivious to what had just happened seconds before.
Tracy glanced over to Mr
. Hayes. He nodded. "I’m ready."
If Gordon knew anything about what was going on, he showed no signs of it. Instead, he went right back to work slicing the fruit-studded pastry with a long, sharp knife.
"Finally, I made a Tahitian vanilla custard tart with seasonal fruits and almond whipped cream. I've been told it's better than sex.” He paused, watching her reaction.
Tracy licked her lips and watched as Gordon's pupils dilated once again. He glanced at her chest and the quickly looked away as he remembered that Mr. Hayes was there as well.
“As you can see, much of this can be prepared ahead of time, meaning that we can have it up, out, and fresh in almost no time at all." He served up three plates of food as if nothing had just happened.
After one more cursory check of the kitchen to make sure that everything was turned off (including the glaring lights), Gordon finally took his seat next to Tracy. It was substantially darker in the room, but there was just enough light to illuminate the table, the kitchen’s tangle of equipment throwing strange-looking shadows onto the opposite wall.
As soon as he sat down, Gordon could tell that the mood in the room had shifted while he was gone. He looked over at Tracy and Mr. Hayes, who looked a little distant.
"Is everything okay?" Gordon asked, his handsome face concerned.
Tracy, finished a bite of the sweet treat and licked a little bit of custard off of the end of her spoon. She knew that both of the men were watching her carefully, and it made the sweet spot between her thighs start to moisten and tingle.
"Actually, everything has been great, Mr. Baxter," she assured him.
Hearing her address him in the same manner as Mr. Hayes made Gordon pause.
Tracy leaned just slightly closer to him and whispered, "Except for one thing."
"What’s that?" he asked.
She stood up and slipped the top of her dress down. Once it was past her shoulders, it fluttered all the way down to the floor, leaving her in nothing but a matching red set of sheer lingerie and stockings. Gordon’s eyes widened like saucers.
"I was thinking that you might want to taste something that I prepared for you."