by R. A. Padmos
“Sounds like a plan. Flour, yeast, salt, water… Need anything more fancy?”
“Nah, going for a simple no-knead artisan bread this time. But could you please get me some hot water? I’m all for slow cooking and giving the yeast time to do its work, but it’s a neat trick if you want a fresh bread the same day.” Molly went to one of the work counters while Chiara fetched all the ingredients and a big bowl.
Only minutes ago, she would have been nervous about what Chiara would have thought about her lazy bread making. However, since she knew that they were both aware of what they were going to do, she happily measured the ingredients and threw them all together.
“Have you ever wondered how bread was invented? It’s a complicated process to go from grains, water, yeast and heat to bread, so it can’t have happened by accident,” she asked Chiara.
“I assume it was as much an evolution as all complicated things. Dried-out cooked grains sticking to a pot, a forgotten piece of dough intended to make flat bread changing in volume and structure by natural yeast, observing and then trying out everything you can come up with. I simply built on the knowledge of many generations of cooks, on the skill and lucky guesses of nameless women.
“I have a great fish stock going on, and one of the local guys brought me some bycatch. What about we make it a simple meal tonight, with fish soup and fresh bread?”
Molly placed a towel over the bowl with the dough. “There are no guests tonight?”
“I’m not the head cook. As I said, it’s not my kitchen, though I do have free access on hours when it’s not in use for breakfast, lunch or dinner. Usually this is Bert’s domain. Recently I’ve started the food experience, a perhaps somewhat pretentious mixture of good food, art, theater and philosophy. And I do help quite often, because what is a cook if she can’t prepare a nice meal?”
“There must be a story behind this. Care to tell me while we walk to the Tiny Blue House?” Molly asked.
Chapter Five
Molly walked next to Chiara through the village in the direction of Betty and Michaela’s cottage. “How did you end up here?”
“When she suddenly wasn’t there anymore, I saw no reason to continue the restaurant that had been so much about us being together, sharing a life.” Chiara paused for a moment. “I wanted to continue. I even gave it a try, but the heart was ripped out of the place that we both had created and after a few months I realized that I was destroying the restaurant. I couldn’t do that.”
“I would have felt the same.”
“I sold the restaurant to someone I respect and trust. Jill and Bert, the owners of the Seatown hotel and old friends of mine, offered me a free room to…well, mourn. I insisted I would help in the restaurant. I had to cook for people or else I would go mad.” Chiara smiled. “For months on end life seemed to stop for me, but I always cooked. Even when I thought all originality had died in me, I still knew how to make all the old recipes. My hands simply knew what to do when my mind didn’t.”
“You’re finding your creativity as a cook again, aren’t you?” Molly asked.
Chiara nodded. “I simply have to make something that hadn’t been there before in quite the same way. I know, cooking is an endless variation on a few themes, but so is composing, writing, painting.”
“I want to cook food that makes people say, ‘I could do that myself. I want to do that myself. It makes me happy eating this and it doesn’t feel like it’s out of my reach.’” Molly looked at Chiara. “You understand what I’m trying to say, am I right?”
Chiara chuckled. “You ate my food yesterday. Does that answer your question?”
“A great part of it, yes.”
“But?”
“Your cooking is more complicated than that. I don’t mean what you cook is forbiddingly complicated, though I still have to find out how you did that with the bitterness smack in the middle of the sweet foam, but it is also rich and layered.” Molly had to search for the right words. “What you did could have turned out messy, pretentious, just a lot of noise and no real music. Your talent and skill made it into what I consider a whole new level of looking at food.”
“Anything good is layered by necessity. You’re a cook yourself and you have probably spent some time in the kitchen of Marguerite Dubois, so you know how much knowledge, experience and work it takes to present a perfect piece of fish that has been perfectly poached.”
“For a moment I thought you were making an ironic statement when the cod was placed in front of me, but one bite and I understood… I knew my purpose of being in a place like Seatown.” Molly hesitated before she continued. “Purpose is the wrong word. Perhaps it’s better to say that after a journey of almost two years I feel I have actually arrived where I belong. And I haven’t even kissed you yet.”
She stopped walking and turned toward Chiara. She had to stand on her toes and Chiara had to bow her head a little because she was one tall woman, but then they were finally kissing.
They were kissing in the middle of the street for any passerby to see, but Molly didn’t care and obviously Ciara didn’t since she was the one teasing her tongue between Molly’s lips.
Molly had read somewhere that it was with a kiss that a woman decided if someone was compatible with her. If that were the case, then she had found someone who was as perfect for her as anyone could wish for. And she had kissed enough women to be able to make a fair comparison.
But what if Chiara didn’t have the same experience? What if Molly came short of what Chiara had known and had not given up out of choice? What if…?
“There are things I want to do with you, but I’m not doing them in a public place. So what about we continue our walk to your home?” Chiara whispered in Molly’s ear with a voice so soft and sexy Molly felt its effect tingle through her whole body.
* * * *
As soon as they were inside the house, Molly took Chiara in her arms and kissed her again. Longer this time, and more greedy. She held her close and became acutely aware of the strength of Chiara’s body, with muscles that performed their tasks with comfortable ease. She was somehow certain that Chiara was the kind of woman who didn’t care one bit how she measured against anyone’s scale of femininity. She had yet to learn almost everything about the woman she was kissing, but she wouldn’t be surprised if Chiara would laugh at the idea of being any less of a woman than Molly, even though Molly was soft and curvy, while she was anything but.
“Do you have a bedroom? Or any place to get horizontal?”
Molly pointed to the back of the house. “That’s the loft. That’s where I sleep. I’ll give you a tour of the rest later.” Molly all but pushed Chiara up the short ladder.
The tiny bedroom directly under the slanted roof was still big enough for a full-size mattress with some extra room for a small cupboard in which she kept a few sleeping shirts, underwear. On top of the cupboard stood a reading lamp and a couple of books.
The space was just high enough in the middle for an adult of average size to sit upright, but standing up was impossible. Molly had brought lovers to the tiny house, and more than one had taken a single look at the loft only to shake her head and say, “Not in a million years.” Would Chiara walk away as well?
But Chiara smiled brightly and sat on the mattress. “This is perfect. Even if I had a mansion with a dozen bedrooms, then I would still have a little house in the back yard with a loft just like this one.”
Relieved, Molly sat right next to her. “I was afraid you might find the space uncomfortable. I mean, with you being so tall. I’ve known quite a few men, though certainly not in the biblical sense, who were shorter than you.”
Chiara pulled her down and kissed her passionately. Molly answered her invitation by roaming her hands all over Chiara’s body, touching her wherever she could reach. She suddenly stopped.
Chiara’s expression was one of surprise and slight annoyance.
“I’m afraid this is going too fast. That I am going too fast,” Molly s
aid.
“Since when is life in the habit of happening when we are ready for it?” Chiara pulled her close and kissed her. “I want to see you naked.”
“Then you have to let me go, at least long enough for me to give you what you want.”
“Who says I can’t do the undressing for you?” Chiara pushed Molly gently onto her back and started to undo her blouse, slow button after slow button. But then all slowness was gone and she and Molly got naked as fast as they could, eager to touch, smell, taste.
She hadn’t been without sex during her journey for the past few years, and all of it had been greedily welcomed and thoroughly enjoyed. Every single woman she’d had sex with would forever remain a cherished memory, but somehow Chiara was different.
This wasn’t the moment to ponder the particulars of love, because Molly’s whole body trembled in urgent need. She rolled on top of the taller woman and started to grind. Molly knew she was behaving like a horny teenager, but she didn’t care since it was obvious in everything that Chiara was as eager to make love.
For minutes, Molly’s whole existence was filled with groping Chiara wherever she could reach and kissing her, sliding her right leg between Chiara’s thighs. She pressed against the heat of Chiara’s cunt, grinning in satisfaction when her lover started to moan.
“You like that, don’t you?” Molly moved in a rhythmic fashion, softly teasing Chiara’s nipples with her teeth.
Chiara’s answer was a deep, shuddering sigh.
“You really needed that.” Molly grinned. “I hardly did anything to make you come.”
“It was clearly enough.”
Molly rolled off Chiara and took her in her arms. “I’m so happy you’re here.”
“You almost sound as if we’re done.”
“Do you have something specific in mind?” Molly kissed her.
Chiara touched Molly high between her legs. “Can I get a taste?”
“As much as you want…”
“Lie still and enjoy,” Chiara ordered sternly, but with a big smile on her face.
Molly tried, she honestly did, but how could she remain still with Chiara’s tongue flicking her clit while she darted two fingers in and out until all Molly could do was feel… Simply feel…
Chapter Six
“This house was about finding out how much I really needed.” Molly paused and looked around. “No, I can’t say that in all honesty. There is much here, even in this tiny space, that I don’t need. But it’s all what I want so much that I find space for it and schlep it around from place to place.”
“Cookbooks and not much else in reading material, a quite nice selection of spices and sauces, sacks of good quality rice and flour, no way that oven, however small, was standard equipment when you bought this house, professional knives, but I’ve already seen them, a small pasta machine… And am I wrong in thinking there are more kitchen utensils in the space under the trailer for a barbecue?”
Molly grinned. “I bet it’s quite hard to guess what kind of person lives here.”
“The kind of person I would like to spend a lot of time with so I can get to know her better.” Chiara emptied her cup of green tea with fresh lemon. “Shall we walk back to the hotel? I remember a dough standing on the counter…”
“Let’s see if it can be saved. You’re sure we won’t get in the way? I mean, the restaurant will have guests tonight, won’t it?”
“Bert is used to me being there, and I know when to either get out of the way or lend a helping hand. Once the bread has come out of the oven, we can pack everything in and come back here to prepare the rest of the meal. Agreed?”
It was all so easy and natural with Chiara, Molly realized, as if making plans for supper together was something they had done for years and would do for many more.
* * * *
“You know what? I’ll make a batch of rolls instead of one loaf. The dough should be just about okay by the time the oven is hot,” Molly thought aloud.
They were back in the restaurant to get what they needed for supper.
Chiara winked at her. “And they take a lot less time.”
“There’s that too, yes.” Molly stretched out to Chiara to kiss her. She loved kissing that woman. Funny how good it felt to be in the fast lane of love and still be so relaxed.
“You have olive oil, eggs, garlic and such back at your place?” Chiara asked.
Molly raised an eyebrow. She started to divide the dough into smaller pieces.
“Stupid question.” Chiara grinned. “Here we are, in a kitchen with ample space, several stoves and ovens, technical equipment and a larder filled with dozens of lovely ingredients, and all I want is hurry back to that petite blue house on wheels.”
“Are we going too fast?”
“No, I’m starting to think we both arrived right on time at the place where we need to be.”
“Check if the oven is at three-seventy?” Molly asked. “I’m not ignoring what you’re saying, I’m just trying to process it. Silly me bursting in, falling for you head over heels, that’s one thing. But you doing the same with me? That is a whole different ball game.”
“You don’t trust this happening to us? Or that we feel we have to make important decisions without giving ourselves time?”
Molly put the rolls on a baking sheet. “You want to take one step back, and simply start dating?”
“No, what I want is to have a great supper, have sex again, say goodbye to Jill and Bert and go wherever with you and the Tiny Blue House.” Chiara embraced Molly from behind and kissed her neck. “But what we actually are going to do is bring our dinner to your place, enjoy our meal, have sex and consider it a date.”
“The rolls will be done in about fifteen minutes, if you let me go for a few seconds so I can actually get them inside the oven.”
Soon the aroma of freshly baked bread filled the kitchen.
“That smells great. You’re making bread?” The male half of the owners of the hotel stood in the door opening. There was a look of surprise on his face. “A guest?”
“Hi, Bert.” Chiara have the huge man a quick hug. “No, that’s all Molly’s doing. She’s baking rolls to go with the rather free interpretation of bouillabaisse I’m making.”
“You were one of the guests yesterday, right?” Bert offered his hand. “A fellow cook is always welcome in this kitchen.”
“Thanks. After having experienced that meal, I had to see her.” Molly had no idea why she explained what she had done, but she was happy to see Bert nod as if he understood what she was saying.
“I’m glad to see my old friend smile again. The two of you eating dinner here?”
Chiara shook her head. “Molly has this tiny dream of a house. We’re going to eat there. You and Jill really should see it. But not today, please, not today.”
“Leave some rolls for Jill and me? Please?”
“There’s more than enough, and what’s the use of cooking if it can’t be shared with friends?” Molly opened the door of the oven and took out the tray of rolls. “Golden brown, there’s no other way to describe these beauties.”
“We’ll wrap them in a tea towel so they stay warm. All I need to do to make the soup is to heat the bouillon, add the fish and sea fruit and in the meantime make some rouille. Let’s go?”
Molly smiled. “Let’s go.”
* * * *
Halfway between the hotel and the cottage, Molly saw a familiar face. “Hey, Betty, time for your daily walk?”
Betty smiled broadly at her. “I see you and Chiara have met. Mike and I had a bit of a discussion this morning about how long it would take the two of you to find each other.”
“Was that the reason you reserved a table for me at the restaurant yesterday?” To be honest, Molly thought the idea of an eighty-six-year-old Cupid totally fun.
“No, that was because I believe that anyone who loves food should experience Chef Loss.” Betty looked at Chiara. “I know you didn’t want to meet our new friend,
but life also taught me that love is a stubborn bitch.”
“Betty, I’ve never heard you use such language.”
“It’s the truth, though, isn’t it? You both go to that lovely little house and eat… Do I smell fresh bread?”
Molly opened the bag and took out a still-hot roll. “Want one?”
“You bet.” And Betty slowly continued her walk, munching on the bread.
For a few moments Molly walked silently next to Chiara, then she asked, “Can you image us being that age?”
“You mean us being together?”
Realization hit Molly like a brick thrown at high speed. “You have imagined this, with her. It would have happened too, if not for… I’m so sorry.”
“Betty and Michaela shared a long life together because they made a choice in a time when women weren’t even supposed to do anything other than to get married, to a man of course, and become mothers. What we do is comparatively easy.”
“I know, and you’re right, but that doesn’t change the fact…”
“Nothing changes that fact. She was with me then, and you are with me now. I enjoy your company, and why would I destroy that pleasure by hanging on to the past or fearing of the future?”
“I could kiss you.”
“Go ahead.” Chiara put down her bag and invited Molly with open arms.
They stood there for a good, long kiss.
* * * *
“Here are the spices, and if you pull out this thingie, you have quite a decent working space.” Molly showed Chiara the ins and outs of cooking in an extremely limited space.
“This is so incredibly clever. Instead of complaining about what isn’t possible here, it makes you see the possibilities.” Chiara expressed her admiration. “If you crush the garlic for the rouille, I’ll make sure the sea fruit gets into the pot in the right order.”