Her brown hair had been cut into a swinging, shiny bob and when she stood in front of the full length mirror in the bathroom her skin seemed to glow with the effects of the light spray tan she’d had applied. Revelling in the silkiness of her new cream bra and panties she carefully pulled up the natural, seven denier stockings with lace tops knowing full well they weren’t strictly necessary because her legs were tanned. But she knew Tim would love them and, giggling with excitement, she headed out to the taxi.
Hurry up, he thought impatiently as he sat on the Eurostar train travelling through Ashford and heading towards St. Pancras station. The two hour journey from Paris, which had flown over when he’d gone out there, seemed to be taking twice as long to get home. Smiling, he thought of Kate waiting for him and still couldn’t believe his luck to be given another chance with her. He was longing to see her and had been counting down every minute since their last email.
Katie stood under The Statue and glanced around at the crowds of people arriving from their destinations or setting out on their holidays armed with cases and bags. Her stomach churned with excitement and nerves but for the first time in weeks they were happy nervous fluttering’s and looking at her watch for what seemed like the hundredth time in the last ten minutes, she looked up to see him striding down the concourse towards her.
She caught her breath at the sight of him. It wasn’t just the fact she hadn’t seen him for two weeks it was more because he looked so incredibly sexy. Ooh, la, la, she murmured as her heart began to race and the blood seemed to pump through her veins at a rate of knots. He was tanned; his hair was cut much shorter than usual and he wore a grey T shirt tucked into slim black jeans. He even seemed to be walking differently with his shoulders pulled back and his head held high while swinging his leather holdall. A couple of young girls noticed his jaunty swagger and turned to check him out which made her glow with pride and pleasure. Hands off girls, she thought, he’s all mine.
Much like his father, he’d never been a demonstrative person and would normally have greeted her in public with a reserved kiss on the cheek but this was, he decided, time to ring-in the changes and as soon as he got close enough to her he picked her up in a bear hug and swung her up into the air much to the obvious delight of passers-by.
“Put me down!” she squealed giggling and he saw the happiness shining from her lovely eyes.
He looked her up and down drinking her in. “Jeez, Kate, you look sensational”.
Feeling flustered but laughing, she smoothed her dress down carefully while he held her at arm’s length.
She beamed at him. “And you’ve scrubbed up pretty well yourself.”
“What a home-coming. It’s fantastic to be back and especially to have you waiting for me,” he said, draping a protective arm around her shoulders while they strolled into the St Pancras Grand Champagne Bar.
It was the first time she’d been into the bar and was awestruck by the grand décor of high, gold leaf-clad ceilings, plush leather seating, elegant lighting and cleverly positioned mirrors. She slithered elegantly up onto a stool at the bar and tried to take a few deep breaths to calm herself because she felt giddy with happiness and excitement.
He sat on the stool opposite her and rubbed his hands together in anticipation while he read through the menu. “It says the Champagne Bar is hoping to combine the romance of travel from a bygone era and is fabulously British.”
“Well, I think they’ve managed that,” she said looking around. “It looks absolutely lovely.”
“Champagne?” he asked, “And maybe oysters?”
“I’ll leave that to you,” she said provocatively and gazed longingly into his eyes.
He ordered half a dozen oysters from Mersea Island in Essex, and a bottle of Lanson Black Label NV champagne, then took her right hand in between both of his.
“It seems strange,” she said. “It’s almost as if we’re on a first date and yet, I know you as well as I know myself?”
He squeezed her hand tightly. “Well, that’s good isn’t it?” he asked. “It means we can have all the thrill of a first date but know from experience what fun we’re going to have later.”
“Hmm,” she uttered and then gasped when she saw the blatant sexual hunger in his eyes.
She pulled him gently towards her and whispered in his ear. “You know it was rumoured that Casanova ate over fifty raw oysters a day to boost his libido. And allegedly, they are at their most potent when eaten raw!”
While the waiter poured out glasses of champagne Tim let go of her hand and sat back on the stool looking at her with smouldering, passion driven eyes. Idly, he traced a finger down the side of her arm which made the small hairs stand to attention and a longing in the pit of her stomach.
“And the Romans claimed that women were reckless after they ate giant oysters,” she said sipping the champagne.
Her mind was racing; he was here, it was happening, and she was back with her Tim. The feeling of euphoria made her feel reckless and totally carefree - she squirmed on the stool and re-crossed her legs knowing the split in her wrap-over dress had fallen to the side exposing her right leg. She saw him wet his lips staring at the lace on the top of her stocking.
Jeez, he wailed silently when he saw the top of her stocking and felt the urge in his trousers strain against the zip. How much was a man supposed to take? He croaked, “Christ, Kate, what are you trying to do to me? I’m not sure if I’m going to be able to wait much longer at this rate!”
She smiled playfully and teased him. “Well, we’ve waited for a couple of months now so a few more hours won’t kill us, will it?”
The oyster platter arrived with the Mersean oysters lying in pretty, brown and white shell cases, wedges of lemon and shallot vinegar, all served on a bed of crushed ice. He picked up a shell and poured a glistening, plump oyster into his mouth and she watched spellbound as he threw his head back to devour it. His Adam’s apple looked huge as it swallowed up and down, and she fought the urge to drag her lips across his throat. And then throwing all caution aside she changed her mind and did just that.
His eyes filled with a look of delighted surprise and he bent forward and kissed her passionately devouring her lips until they tingled.
When they finally pulled apart she murmured, “And the French poet Leon-Paul Fargue once said eating an oyster was like kissing the sea on the lips, and your lips taste just like that and very seaweedy.”
Laughing, he said, “Uh-huh, and because oysters are aphrodisiacs they’ll make us feel even more sexy, if that’s possible?”
She took another sip of champagne and a string of bubbles ran up her nose making her giggle. “Well, if the oysters don’t, this champagne should, it’s fabulous! It tastes of ripe citrus fruits and it’s so light my nose is tickling,” she said reading the label on the bottle. “It says to expect a pleasant, racy wine with a long and lingering taste.”
“Wow! I like the sound of that, long and lingering…” he drawled sexily.
She picked up a shell from the platter and squeezed lemon onto it. “But just in case the champagne isn’t enough, I’d better try one of these.” The oyster was tender and succulent as it slipped from the shell down her throat and made her feel very sensual.
He reached across, ate another oyster and gulped his champagne. “I feel ready to burst!” he declared loudly and she burst out laughing with pleasure.
They finished the bottle of champagne and fought amicably over the last oyster but finally she gave in and allowed him to have it. “After all, if it’s true what they say about enhancing sexual performance,” she taunted. “You’re the one who’s going to need it!”
He threw his head back and roared with laughter. “Come on,” he said, “I think it’s time we went to the hotel and maybe ordered another bottle?”
“Oh, you do – do you?” she smirked with delight and slid off the stool while he put his arm securely around her waist. She settled easily into his arm, it felt reassuringly fami
liar, yet at the same time very exciting.
Checking in at the reception desk seemed to take forever although realistically it was only a few minutes after they swiped his credit card and he signed the paperwork. But these were all lost minutes that he wasn’t touching her, he thought, and impulsively reached across to tuck a lock of her hair behind her ear. The printer on the desk whirled away printing his receipt and he gently traced his finger along the curve of her jaw, thinking how beautiful she was. Just this simple touch of skin against skin had every nerve in his body screaming for her and then at last they were finished and running hand-in-hand along the foyer to catch the lift up to their room.
They stood alone in the lift catching their breath and she stared wantonly at him. He came to her and eased her against the side of the lift sliding his hand through the split in her dress. She moaned at his touch and felt his hot breath as he roved up and down her neck grazing her with his teeth.
Driven with passion she threaded her fingers through his hair and scrunched a handful, non-too gently while taunting him even further. “You know, there’s no actual scientific evidence to support the theory of aphrodisiacs and it’s said to be based purely in imaginary folklore.”
His hands moved around the tops of her stockings and panting with desire she threw her head back clinging to him as the desperate ache flooded through her body. She could feel his hard member against the side of her leg and every pulse in her body was throbbing.
Unashamedly she traced down the zip on his jeans with her fingers and stroked it with her hand.
He groaned with longing, “Oh Kate, I don’t know about folklore, but I’m not imagining this and it’s definitely not happening in my mind. It’s all yours and raring to go,” he rasped harshly and kissed her long and hard. She knew her lips would be bruised but couldn’t have stopped him even if she wanted to, which she didn’t. He was her man, his body was hers to touch and take and she wanted him desperately.
They practically fell out of the lift when it reached the fourth floor and ran into the hotel room collapsing onto the bed together. He straddled across her and whipped her belt off, opened her dress and moaned in pleasure at the sight of her.
“Christ, Kate, you’ve no idea how much I’ve missed and longed for this. Just to touch and smell you…” he drawled and started to kiss her passionately while she pulled his T-shirt over his head. She ran her hands down his taut, tanned chest muscles and practically purred with lust for his body.
“I…I can’t wait, Tim,” she stuttered, “I need to have you inside me.”
He tore his jeans off and climbed back over her. She pulled her arms out of the dress, undid her bra, and he caught both of her wrists, raised them above her head and started to suck her nipples. She arched her back in response as waves of pure ecstasy flooded through her and then wrapped both legs around his back pulling him deeply into her. Her heart was racing as they began to move, sweat, and rock together; she knew his rhythm so well as he did hers, and she pulled him further and further into her never wanting it to stop. She was climbing higher and higher, working her way to the sweet relief that crashed through her at the same time as he cried out in release. He collapsed on top of her.
As her breathing slowed he moved slightly to shift his weight but she begged, “Don’t move, Tim, stay where you are. I just need to feel you on top of me again.”
“Oh Kate,” he moaned. “Thank, God, I’ve got you back again.”
Her heart slowed back to normal and feelings of true joy swelled inside her making her feel tearful. She wiped a small tear away that leaked sideways out of her eye while he kissed her tenderly on the lips.
He whispered, “You’re my own Greek goddess and I’m never going to lose you again.”
Epilogue
"The kitchen in our new house is much bigger, Kate," he said putting a comforting arm along her shoulder. "And by the time the builders have finished it'll be a fantastic cooking area for you.”
She knew Tim was right but it still saddened her to see her old kitchen emptied of everything and in its cold, stark, state. A few of her business cards lay on the top of the Island and she idly picked one up flicking it between her fingers remembering the day they’d arrived in the post when Tim and her were apart.
But she hadn't lived here for over three months now; only cooked in the kitchen on a daily basis returning each night to the apartment with Tim. The apartment kitchen was too small to cook and run a business from and she'd been adamant when they'd got back together again that she had no intention of giving up her business plan especially now the bookings were flooding-in. She’d called upon Chrissie several times for help with big dinner parties and they’d become great friends.
Her flat however, hadn't stood empty because Lisa had asked if she could move in for a while and pay her rent. Things between her and Sam had developed slowly and although she hadn’t wanted to move in with him straight away she did want to be close to him so this had been the perfect solution.
Everyone had been amazed at Lisa's transformation and although she would never be a domestic goddess she had thrown herself into doing a little housework and helping Sam down at the vegetable plots, although the yellow daisy Wellington boots she’d bought had caused hysteria from the locals and other gardeners. Plus, she could, with Katie’s guidance at first, cook three meals from start to finish on her own - a feat she was extraordinarily proud of. Sam was more than proud of her he; was absolutely devoted to her and although one of these speciality meals was only cheesy beans on toast he declared that he could eat this every night of his life as long as it was Lisa who was making it for him.
Tim carried the last box to the car while she picked up Lisa’s set of house keys that she’d returned at the weekend when she’d finally moved in with Sam. She tagged them with her own set onto a large key ring to hand into the estate agent for viewings next week.
“Oh, nearly forgot," Tim said handing her a padded envelope, "This came this morning after you'd left."
She recognised the photographer’s logo. "It’ll be the photographs from Sarah’s wedding."
She opened the envelope to reveal an enlarged print of her and Lisa in bridesmaid’s dresses with Simon and Sarah glowing with happiness on their big day. The ivory, silk dress Sarah wore actually hid her four month pregnancy very well but because they were both thrilled parents-to-be it wouldn't have mattered to either of them if it had showed.
"You looked beautiful in that dress," Tim said while punctuating each word with a little kiss while he moved down the side of her neck.
She squirmed and giggled. "And what are you after, as if I didn't know," she asked narrowing her eyes questioningly. "I don't often get compliments like this on a Monday morning?"
“Ah! I’m mortally wounded," he said teasing her gently. "I think it’s time you had your own fabulous dress to wear." He picked up a business card up from the Island and carried on, "And, if you are having a reprint of these cards with our new address on you might as well change your name to Davies at the same time."
Her heart began to thud. "Are you saying what I think you’re saying?"
This was obviously going to be a defining moment between them and she took a deep breath to steady herself when suddenly with one hand holding the edge of the island he dropped down onto one knee.
"I love you, Kate. There’ll never be anyone else for me. Will you marry me?" he asked looking up at her.
Her heart soared with happiness because she was filled with such love for this man. Her eyes brimmed with tears. "Yes, Chef," she said. "Oh yes, indeed, Chef."
If you enjoyed Yes Chef, No Chef you might also enjoy School Ties by Emma Lee-Potter, also published by Endeavour Press.
School Ties by Emma Lee-Potter
ONE
Will Hughes slammed his pen down. It was ten fifteen on a rainy September night and he’d been marking Hamlet essays for more than an hour. And what a bloody shambles they were too. Admittedly he was teaching the botto
m set, but he was stunned by the quality of the teenagers’ work. Some could barely string a sentence together, let alone use an apostrophe properly. Only one had produced work that showed any understanding of Shakespeare’s most famous play.
Trying hard to stay awake, he took a gulp of cold instant coffee. He was less than halfway through the pile of scripts and at this rate he’d be hard-pressed to finish them by midnight. Worse still, he’d promised to take the first fifteen rugby squad on a training run at dawn.
For the umpteenth time, Will wondered why he had returned to teaching. He’d left his last school a year ago to join an up-and-coming Shoreditch advertising agency. Yet now he’d had another change of heart and given up his skinny lattes and generous expense account to return to the chalkface.
Not that Downthorpe Hall was a tough place to work. It wasn’t. Compared to the early years of Will’s career, when he’d been a young English teacher at a tough inner-city comprehensive, Downthorpe was the cushiest number imaginable. A private school dating back two hundred years, it was housed in an elegant Cotswold mansion, complete with castellated turrets, a winding two-mile drive and acres of playing fields. It had once been an all-boys school, but had gone co-ed twenty years ago. The decision was deplored by the old guard but had succeeded in giving the school’s academic results a much-needed shot in the arm.
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