Double Stuffed: MFM Menage Romance

by Farrah Paige

  Double Stuffed

  MFM Ménage Romance

  Copyright 2018 by Farrah Paige.

  All Rights Reserved.

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  Table of Contents

  Double Stuffed

  MFM Ménage Romance

  Chapter 1

  Honey

  Chapter 2

  Honey

  Chapter 3

  Clark

  Chapter 4

  Honey

  Chapter 5

  Ethan

  Chapter 6

  Honey

  Chapter 7

  Clark

  Chapter 8

  Honey

  Chapter 9

  Honey

  Chapter 10

  Clark

  Chapter 11

  Honey

  Chapter 12

  Ethan

  Chapter 13

  Honey

  Chapter 14

  Clark

  Chapter 15

  Honey

  Chapter 16

  Ethan

  Chapter 17

  Honey

  Chapter 18

  Honey

  Chapter 19

  Clark

  Chapter 20

  Ethan

  Epilogue

  Honey

  Chapter 1

  Honey

  I was mobbed at the bake shop as always. Don’t get me wrong, I liked to be busy. This level of busyness, however, was starting to grind on me.

  Honey’s Buns, my bakery, was a tiny place. Basically, the front was one square store front with two counter displays for the baked good and a kitchen in the back. Then I put six tables and twelve chairs. Initially, these were just meant for customers to wait or get a quick bite. It soon became prime real estate for my customers. I had one lady that would sometimes come in just as I opened so she could sit there all morning, drink her coffee and eat a muffin.

  I didn’t know how to ask her to leave after a while. Fortunately, my customers started doing that for me. It actually got a little heated sometimes. Eventually, I was forced to come out of the kitchen and proclaim that the seats could only be used for customers and then only for 15 minutes. That didn’t sit well with the lady and she left, but she eventually came back two weeks later to get rolls.

  But the entire process was wearing me out. I wanted to be able to talk to people and have conversations. I did for the first week, but by the end of the second week there were just too many people. I even got zinged for it on Facebook that was I “in too much of a rush”. That was a weird comment to leave on any business. Fortunately, my fans shouted back with “She’s fast and you’re complaining?”

  I was in the middle of the morning rush when Emma came in. She seemed young and friendly. Out of desperation, I started interviewing her as I was cutting and boxing cinnamon buns.

  “I know how to run a register,” she explained. “And I can bake a little. I’m willing to learn though.”

  “Uh-huh, uh-huh,” I said, half listening. “What’s your schedule like? When can you start?”

  “Well, I guess tomorrow?”

  “How about today? You missed the beginning of the morning, but I’ll pay you the full day,” I said. “On-the-job training. It’ll be a try out for a week. I’ll start you at $12 and hour. Sound good?”

  “Wow. Really? You mean it? Thank you so much, Honey. You won’t regret it.” she said excitedly.

  “Yes-yes-yes,” I said, hurriedly shaking her hand and getting flour all over it. “Now get to that register. The prices are on a sheet right near it.”

  I’m sure Emma made a few mistakes that morning, but at this point, I could afford a few. The instant she took over the register, I felt my entire body relax. Now I didn’t have to rush between that, the kitchen and the various baked goods. I was just filling the orders and Emma was collecting the money.

  Don’t get me wrong. When you hire a total stranger to collect money, you have to watch out for her. I did. If she had slipped a twenty in her pocket or whatever, I would’ve been right on it. But honestly, I just had a good vibe about Emma. Seemed like a good kid and it would be nice to have someone to talk to at work.

  The morning rush finally died down around 11, so I started restocking the shelves. It was a chance to get to know my new employee.

  “Wow, that was pretty nuts,” she laughed. “Is it always that busy in here?”

  “Yeah,” I said. “When I opened this place, I knew I had done my research and everything, but I didn’t think people would be that desperate for a good bakery. I mean, jeez---What the hell were they eating before with their coffee? Sand?”

  “I have a bakery near me and it’s not half this busy,” she said.

  “Where do you live?”

  “Near the river on Thompson Street,” she said.

  “Oh, near the park? Sure-sure, I know that area,” I said. “Used to take my friend’s dog for a walk there. She lives near there. I used to watch her house while she was away. What was the name of that bakery? Sanders?”

  “Yeah,” she said kind of sadly. “More of a bread store. Good, but… Ya know.”

  “Yeah,” I agreed. “Mr. Sanders is a nice guy. I worked for him for a short time, but he skimps on ingredients. That’s what happens.”

  “Is that your secret? Good ingredients?” she asked.

  “Yeah, that’s a big part of it,” I said. “I mean, what is food other than the taste and how it makes you feel? You cheap out---People don’t feel good after they eat. The taste doesn’t wow them---Why bother? Ya know?”

  “I agree,” said Emma. “And it’s not like I eat a cake every day, let’s say. But I want that cake to be sweet.”

  “But not too sweet,” I countered. “Lots of bakers, they just jack up the sugar, salt and butter and call it a day. It’s a balance. You gotta have that.”

  I started mixing up the ingredients for another batch of cupcakes.

  “Are those cookies?” asked Emma.

  “No, cupcakes,” I explained. “You follow the recipe and they’re great. You swap stuff out---You’ll be in trouble. Do me a favor, butter up these molds and I’ll go through the process with you.”

  For the next ten minutes, I gave Emma the step by step instructions on how to make the cupcakes. She seemed to take to the lesson pretty good. She asked me the right questions and seemed generally interested. At some point, we both realized she didn’t have an apron on, so I got her one from the back. It had my store logo on it, so I figured it was probably good that she wears it when she was working. It made us both look more professional. When the cupcakes came out of the oven, I flipped over the mold and they popped out perfectly. Then I showed her how to mix up the icing and let her decorate the tops. She was a natural and had a good eye for it.

  Next up was the lunch rush, which wasn’t nearly as intense as breakfast. We were, after all, a bakery not a lunch counter. Still, that didn’t stop people from coming in here for coffee and perhaps a dessert. Emma’s trial-by-fire continued to go well. The customers seemed to like her too. It didn’t hurt that she was young and pretty.

  By two o’clock, things were really winding down. A few people would hit us before closing, but we were basically getting ready for the next day. You gotta hit a bakery early if you want the good stuff and as much as I wanted to be open late, I needed some time to myself. Hell, I was making money hand over fist at this point, I had the money to do something. That is, if I could think of something to do or someone to do it with.

  “You did really good today, Emma,” I told her. “Thanks so mu
ch for your help. I think this is going to work out.”

  “Thank you for this opportunity,” she smiled.

  “You don’t know how badly I’ve needed a day off,” I revealed. “I haven’t had a break since I opened.”

  “What are you going to do? Do you have kids?” she asked.

  “No,” I admitted. “Not even seeing someone. I’ve tried the dating sites, but I don’t know…”

  “Yeah, they can be pretty awful,” said Emma. “I mean, what some of these guys think is okay to post. What are they thinking?”

  “I know, right?” I laughed nervously.

  I laughed nervously because I had been so inactive on the various swiping dating sites, I hadn’t even gotten a dirty picture sent to me recently. At this point, even a shirtless pic would be welcomed. It would be some interaction.

  We started making the dough for tomorrow’s bread. It had to rise for a while, so it was good to get it ready, let it rise and then put it in the fridge overnight. That way, early in the morning I could come in here and just bake one batch after another. We continued to talk about the dating world, however. Emma thought it was rather amusing, but I couldn’t imagine anyone as young and pretty as her having any trouble in that area.

  “One of the things that really bothers me,” she said. “Are these guys that just immediately ask you out. It’s like, dude…I need to talk to you for a little bit and get to know you. Slow down.”

  “Right, you don’t know if they’re a normal person or a serial killer,” I added wryly. “And how about these guys that just ghost you.”

  “I know, right.” said Emma. “One minute, you’re chatting nice back and forth and then nothing. It’s like, say goodbye. Tell me off. Something. What? Did your wife find the phone?”

  “I would just be happy with one guy,” I said. “One nice, normal guy. It seems like the dating sites are awash with married people. Why even get married?”

  “I hear it’s worse for the guys,” said Emma. “Some of the guys tell me they get bombarded by Ukrainian bots that post pictures of beautiful women. But when they get into a chat with them, they can barely speak English. And then they try to hit them up for money.”

  “I had that happen to me,” I said. “Real handsome guy I mean, the pictures were, right? So he starts chatting me up and at first I think, well he’s not from this country. That’s why his grammar is off. Then he tells me this sob story about how he’s stuck in an airport and needs $400 to get home. I’m like, what?”

  “Wow, what a waste of time,” said Emma. “Do people actually fall for that?”

  “I guess they must once in a while or they wouldn’t do it,” I said. “It’s like that Nigerian Prince scam over email.”

  “I think I read somewhere that Nigeria is so poor, that if even one person falls for that scam for a few thousand dollars, it’s enough to pay hundreds of people to keep doing it for a week,” she said. “I guess it’s the same principle on the dating sites.”

  “You’d think they’d figure out how to stop them,” I said. “I mean, if you’re in a foreign country, can’t they check?”

  “They hide their IP addresses,” said Emma. “Then it can look like you’re from anywhere. And if they’re any good with computers, they’ll have a fake one.”

  “Oh, I don’t understand half that stuff,” I dismissed. “If it isn’t edible or if it doesn’t go in an oven, forget it. I can barely maintain the Facebook page for this place.”

  “I could help you with that,” offered Emma. “It’s not that hard, although it used to be easier.”

  “That’s what confuses me about Facebook,” I said. “It’s like they’re always changing up the controls. Why not keep things the same, ya know?”

  “Yeah, I feel that way about computers in general,” she said. “It seems like every time I buy a new one, I have to relearn everything. Even my smart phone. Like I don’t mind a few changes, but they change the whole thing. The logos. Everything.”

  “Well, that’s enough dough, I think,” I said. “Let’s get these into the bowls to rise and cover them up. Then we’ll put them in the fridge before we leave for the night.”

  “Wow, there’s a lot of prep work in this,” she said. “I guess it’s all about timing.”

  “Yeah,” I said. “No one wants bread from the night before, it has to be as fresh as possible. If we time right, it’ll come out of the oven before the morning rush. Then people take home bags of bread that are still warm.”

  “I hear making bagels are kind of a pain,” added Emma.

  “Oh, God yes.” I said. “I make a few, but not too many. If there was a Jewish Deli in town, I know I’d be making more. Bagel is more of an exotic food around here. I love them, but they are sooooo fattening. We just make enough for the morning rush these days.”

  “What about icing and stuff? Do you make that ahead of time?” asked Emma.

  “Mmmm, sometimes,” I said. “The problem with that is that if you put it in the fridge it gets hard. It’s better to mix it up fresh. You really need to keep that at room temp. Especially the glaze. However the whipped cream; sometimes I whip that up early. You just have to whip it up again when you use it.”

  “What’s the hardest part that I should learn about working in a bakery?” she asked.

  “Learn to get up early,” I said. “Very early.”

  Chapter 2

  Honey

  It was an early morning as always. Getting up was usually the hard part, but today I found a little more energy. Emma’s presence was already taking a little of the burden off me. I actually wasn’t completely exhausted when I came home the night before.

  Unfortunately, getting ready that morning made me keenly aware of the emptiness of my place. Was this going to be my whole life? Getting up, baking and then going back to sleep every day? Sure, I was making good money, but what good was it without someone to share it with?

  As I fried some eggs, I did some swiping on the dating sites. I had to log in again since I hadn’t been on for a while. The faces just zoomed by me in a blur after a while. They weren’t real. Some of them were definitely fake. Could they all be fake? It felt like a psychological experiment gone awry. Did all these handsome men have any idea that their pictures were being used to waste everyone’s time?

  After what seemed like a hundred or more swipes, I didn’t even know what I was doing anymore. I closed the app and gave up. Breakfast had to be eaten and the shop had to be opened on time. Forget this nonsense. Maybe one day a real human being would walk into the bakery and start up a conversation. We’d laugh, and he’d be charming and then ask for my number. I’d give it to him and then we’d end up talking and then going out on a date. Now that Emma was in the shop, I might be able to do that. I just had to keep training her to be another me.

  But what if she was a flake? What if I get to the shop today and she ghosts me? Oh, God. That would be depressing. I mean, it would be almost better if I hired someone who sucked and then they flaked out. But to hire someone as good as Emma and lose them the next day? I think I’d need a day to recover from that.

  Fortunately, when I pulled up she was waiting outside on a park bench. The plaza had park benches around the immediate store areas for some reason. Mostly they were used by my customers as seats and makeshift breakfast tables. I had heard from other customers that the plaza had ten different benches stretch out around the entire plaza and every morning they ended up being full of people eating my baked goods. Even the benches all the way at the opposite end. That’s a pretty good measurement of my success when you get down to it. That people are willing to walk that far just to sit and enjoy a coffee and a pastry within spitting distance of the bakery.

  Anyhow, Emma and I opened Honey’s Buns and I began to go through the morning routine with her. We got the dough out of the fridge to let it get back to room temperature. I showed her a quick way to separate egg whites, which we would use to coat all the bread to get that nice crispy shell. The marks
on the bread were important too. They had to be uniform on each loaf. It was an esthetic my customers had come to expect.

  I gave Emma instructions on how to preheat the ovens and she followed them. Then we mixed up the muffin mixes. It was the same mix for most of them, just a different bonus taste like blueberries or banana walnut or whatever.

  “Jeez,” said Emma. “You have every oven on in the place. You must have a huge electric bill.”

  “All part of the overhead,” I explained. “Those ovens will probably stay on for the next several hours. It saves us some time just to keep taking stuff that’s finished out and then going right in with the next thing. If I could put two more ovens in here, I totally would.”

  I then took something that I hadn’t had since I opened the shop. A break. I had a cup of coffee and sampled one of Emma’s croissants. It was pretty good. She was learning very fast.

  For some reason, teaching Emma how to bake, made me a little sad. By this point in my life, I was hoping to be teaching my daughter how to bake. Or, at the very least, I wanted to be baking for my kids at home, not busting my ass in a hot kitchen every day.

  Jeez, the moment I hire Emma is the moment I have too much time to think about my personal situation. It made me, I don’t know. Wistful, I guess. I had to stop feeling sorry for myself. I should be happy I have this extra time to relax. I just needed to figure out the best way to use the time.

  Just as I finished my break, a woman came in with a toddler. God, I envied this woman. Her kid was so cute. It must be so fun to take him places and see the world through his eyes. What a treat to dress up a little person and have them in your care. I couldn’t resist. I just wanted to eat him up.

  “Can I give your son a cookie?” I asked.

  “Oh, sure,” she smiled. “Damien, do you want a cookie?”

  He was shy and put his fingers in his mouth. I founding a cookie shaped like a doggie and held it up for him.

  “Do you like doggies?” I asked. “I made these cookies. Do you want one?”