“What’s up, Tonya?” he murmured.
I peered through my pink strands, and, the instant our eyes met, he knew what was wrong—I was terrified.
“Come on, it’s a piece of cake!” He winked at me. His hand clasped mine a bit tighter.
I stayed silent.
For the rest of the segment, I kept my eyes cast downward as one by one my fellow contestants were saved from the fire and removed from the frying pan until only Alex, myself, Eric, and his Asian chef partner remained standing in the pan about to be cooked. It came down to a contest between our chocolate bacon cupcakes and their oriental-noodle chocolate turtle cupcakes.
“Stop staring at them,” Alex hissed between clenched teeth then revealed a dazzling smile.
The host interrupted my epic panic attack in this battle of the cupcakes. “Alex Stanley of Dirty Lickings and his partner Tonya Summers of X-games’ fame pit their chocolate bacon cupcakes against Eric Melendez and Victor Wong’s chocolate turtle fantasy cupcakes to decide who gets to stay and who gets thrown into the fire. Out of the Frying Pan, Into the Fire coming up next! Stay tuned!”
The butterflies in my stomach were doing kick flip ollies, where a skateboard fluttered like a butterflies wings then flipped. I didn’t want to be on the show anyway, but when it came down to it, I didn’t want to be the first to be kicked off and forced to leave in disgrace either. I remembered Nicodemus’s words, “It’s up to you how far you’ll go. If you don’t take a chance, you’ll never know.”
I decided to make a list of the pros and cons. If I get eliminated, I will be free to go skating. If I get kicked off, I will lose the chance at half-a-million dollars. If I get kicked off, I won’t be Alex’s partner anymore and can’t spend more time with him. If I get kicked off on the first episode, it will be the most humiliating thing in the world. My string of cons went on and on, far outweighing the pros of being kicked off.
“Welcome back to Happy Endings, the world’s only reality TV show in search of the perfect happy dessert ending.” The host gave a wicked grin, his voice sounding far too enthusiastic and exuberant as he teased the invisible viewers beyond the camera’s lens.
“Whooo will be this season’s first contestant to be eliminated? Will it be Eric, the horse jockey from Argentina, who, with the help of his professional-chef partner, baked chocolate turtle cupcakes with frosting sculpted out of Chinese noodles to resemble tiny turtles, or will it be Tonya Summers, the X-games skater girl, who baked up a bacon sensation with her bacon-boy aficionado, Dirty Lickings chef Alex Stanley? Stay tuned to find out!”
“Another commercial break?” I turned my eyes up at Alex, who met mine with a pleasant smile—his eyes actually smiled.
“Sponsors. They pay the bills, cutie pie.”
Reality TV is so stupid. I made up my mind then and there I did not care if I got kicked off. I’d rather be skating than baking. Humph! I crossed my arms in front of me, resolute and perturbed by the ridiculous delay.
“Aannnnnd, the first contestant to be eliminated from season seven issssss….”
Get on with it already. The anticipation is killing me. Alex still held onto my hand. He seemed confident. Perhaps too confident. Easy for him.
“Eric!”
Bam, the hooks trussed behind us whipped Eric and his partnering Asian chef up and out of the frying pan then lowered them with great flamboyance into the fake flames writhing below us. So hokey!
But then Alex reached up and caressed my cheek. Like a flame to my skin, his touch smoldered. I quivered, feeling like melting butter as we stood together, victorious in the frying pan. The win felt pretty real, as real as his sensuous touch. He smiled for the cameras, not in a conceited way, just satisfied, very humble.
“And the winners of season seven’s Happy Endings’ first cook off with their chocolaty-good bacon cupcakes arrrr…. Alex and Tonya! You won Head Chef and the friendly cook off in the first week. Not a bad start to season seven. Tell us how you’re feeling.”
I stared at my hand still clutched in Alex’s. My cheeks heated, and words wouldn’t come to my lips.
“I guess it’s a good thing Tonya Summers agreed to be my partner this season.” Alex gave a broad smile, answering for the two of us. Then he winked at me and raised my hand high up in the air like Rocky Balboa or something—as if we had just won a champion boxing match. I took a fleeting glance up at the cameras and made the peace sign with two fingers. I didn’t want to spoil the moment for Alex, but I did feel kind of ridiculous standing in a large fake frying pan, wearing a gold plastic cookie cutter on a string around my neck like some kind of Olympic gold medal, having just been crowned best bacon-cupcake baker.
“Aaannd cut!” the director cried, clapping her hands together. “Magic! You two are pure magic together. This is going to be our best season ever, I know it!”
As it turned out, the segment with us making Jell-O shots got pushed back to the next day, so all the contestants had the rest of the afternoon to themselves. I decided to stay at the hotel with everybody else for a while, maybe get to know them better, strategize a bit. There were five of us left standing. I’d made it through the first elimination round, and there was a chance I could win this whole thing with Alex by my side. A little confidence goes a long way. I all but skipped off the set, like a little girl giddy with excitement.
Alex caught up with me before I headed out the back door.
“Wait!” he called, running to catch up.
I slowed down a bit.
“So, what do you do for fun, Tonya Summers?” Alex followed me out of the back door.
I could pretend to be normal, be like all the other twenty-one-year-old girls I know and say a bunch of random girly stuff, but something about Alex screamed authenticity and sincerity, and I didn’t want to lie to him or play games with him. Weird, but around him I’m different.
“Not much,” I answered. “I skate. How ’bout you?”
He appeared fascinated by my statement, though I had no idea why. “You have a singular passion, then.”
“I guess.” I met his unrelenting gaze and contemplated if this gorgeous guy I’d partnered with could be gay. No guy can be this sweet, can they? He oozed charm and dripped kindness. I’d never met anyone like him before.
“Me, too.”
“Let me guess,” I joked. “You bake.”
He paused, cocking his head to one side, “Close…. I like to play with food.” He smiled. “How’d you guess?”
“A simple deduction, Watson.”
“A simple reduction, more like, Sherlock.” He appraised me as if he were sizing me up.
I laughed at him and his quip. He did like to use cooking terms in his vernacular.
“Hmmm…. So, skating’s all you do for fun?” he pressed. “Skate and read Sherlock Holmes?”
“Why? What do you do for fun, Alex Stanley?” I murmured, but I think he’d gotten the wrong impression from my sarcasm.
“Am I bothering you with my questions?” He sounded amused.
“Just wondering. What’s it to you what I do for fun anyways?” I batted my eyelashes at him. OMG I’m flirting with him!
“It doesn’t. I just wondered, after our big win today, if you might want to go out and have some fun tonight…. But I had no idea what might be fun for you.”
I held my breath. He just asked me out on a date! I hadn’t been out on a date with a guy since the fiasco at my high school prom years ago. Skating took up all my free time. Rolling my eyes then glancing up at him from underneath my pink bangs, I asked, “What did you have in mind?”
“I want to make you dessert!”
“Yummy! I’m all in!”
***
My sister had dropped my stuff off at the hotel while I’d been on set, and when I got to my room, my pink skateboard awaited my return like an old friend. Unbuttoning my chef jacket, I threw it on the bed then ran down to the lobby and out into the parking lot to get a few hours of skating in before dessert with
Alex tonight.
I want to make you dessert. Alex’s lyrical words ran over and over again through my thoughts as I skated through Buena Vista. Something about how he’d spoken the words I’d found so alluring that made me agree to go out with him later—I’m not even a big dessert fan! Just like when he’d asked me to be his partner on the show when we were volunteering at the soup kitchen. His voice is so damn seductive.
He’s definitely not into me. I fluffed my hair as I gave a swift kick on my board. But what exactly do I find so attractive about him? I couldn’t be sure. Hmmm…. Yes, I can. Everything!
Checking both ways before rolling across the street, I skated through the intersection and heard the unexpected screech of car brakes. Swiftly removing myself from distracted thoughts of Alex, I saw Eric, the contestant I’d beaten earlier in the afternoon, flailing his arms and cursing at me in Spanish. “Puta!”
Jeez! It’s only a game, Dude. I whizzed past him on my board, holding up my fingers in a peace sign. “Better luck next time.” I laughed.
Episode Three
Dessert Night had arrived, and, in a daze, I stood in Alex’s kitchen. He shot his regular cooking show in Orlando, too, so he had this amazing place in this town called Celebration, right outside the studios. What a great name for a town, and it fit for Alex, who seemed to always be celebrating life, always optimistic, always smiling. This guy had a nonstop smile plastered on his perfectly sculpted face. And when I saw his kitchen, his one singular passion, as he’d told me, I could understand why. At twenty-seven-years old, this guy was living large, really large. Living the dream most twenty-somethings would kill for.
His kitchen was something right out of Roald Dahl’s Charlie and the Chocolate Factory, a sort of lurid and nocturnal bliss and brilliance with all the raw primary colors of a childhood rainbow spectrum. A you-could-even-eat-the-dishes kind of fantasy. Talk about an over-stimulating environment. Like a giant private candy store for a kitchen. I’m vibrating just standing there from the wonder of it all.
I found myself praying this guy wasn’t gay, I wanted to be doing something dirty with him in this amazing kitchen this very night—the fact I’m still a virgin at twenty-one may also have something to do with my intentions. Since my prom, I’d sidelined dating and my schedule kept me pretty busy. Alex Stanley had been quite a sweet and unexpected surprise in the soup kitchen when we’d met.
Aroused and anxious to see him, I stood waiting in the entrance to his kitchen at the very front of his palatial home. His housekeeper had let me in.
“Let’s cook!” Alex clapped his hands as he made a silent entrance through a back door in the kitchen I hadn’t taken notice of before.
Cracking open a bottle of Chablis, he handed me a glass.
“So, what’ll it be?” He gave me a salacious grin. “Something chocolaty? Creamy? Fruity? What’s your favorite dessert?” Again, there was something wicked yet delicious in the way he asked me this.
“Crème brûlée!” I squealed.
“Hmmm…custard. Okay. That’s one of my favorites. ” He pulls ingredients from his cupboards.
Several different things went on at the same time as he moved with such precision and speed through his kitchen it made my head spin in every direction. It was awe inspiring to watch this man cook. Better than watching Tony Hawk or Shaun White skateboarding. He was awesome in the kitchen.
In a matter of what seemed just a few minutes, he stood before me with several large bowls of creamy golden custard. Not quite the crème brûlée I’d requested, but still, I had to marvel at the four or five pounds of custard he had whipped up in no time at all.
“That doesn’t look like any custard I’ve ever seen. It’s so runny! How much of the stuff did you make?” I laughed at the sight of so much custard.
“Enough to bathe in,” he replied in all seriousness, without skipping a beat in his stirring of the creamy goodness.
A large lump welled up in my throat which I swallowed with an audible gulp. “Enough to what?”
“Bathe in.”
I frowned, startled by his remark and unable to absorb what he’d just told me. He’s joking, though he sounds quite serious.
Silence loomed as Alex glared at me like a tiger about to pounce. “You did come over tonight for me to make you dessert, right?”
“I—”
“I’m making you crème brûlée, sans the burnt crunchy flambé coating, which wouldn’t be any fun at all. But this is going to be awesome!” With a child’s enthusiasm, he grabbed my hand and rushed me into the most elegant bathroom I’ve ever seen with a Jacuzzi the size of a swimming pool right behind the kitchen. “It’s all the rage in the UK.”
Confusion filled me. “Wait, what’s going on Alex? What’s all the rage?
“Sploshing!”
His demeanor changed. The man I’d once believed to be gay came onto me like a sex-crazed goofball!
“I told you. I’m having you for dessert. Take off your clothes! We’re going to splosh,” he replied in a rush, holding a big bowl of almost liquid custard.
“What?”
“Get into the bath so I can cover you with custard and lick it off you,” he told me with the same ease as someone might say, please pass the salt.
“Wow,” I blurted, more surprised by this than by anything I had ever heard before in my life. What’s going on here? But once I saw the giddy, innocent expression on his face, I couldn’t say no—yet again—to this mouthwateringly sweet guy. “Sounds pretty wild.” I found myself saying instead. “Let’s try it.”
I left out the part about telling him I was a virgin. I wondered if he’d figure it out on his own.
Peeling off my T-shirt, popping off my bra, and hopping into the ginormous bathtub, I was a little weirded out but now cognizant of the fact Alex was not gay—although, as I stood before him naked, I realized he was not in the least bit hard either, not even a tiny bit. “What in the—?”
Alex helped me wriggle my leg out of my jean shorts. I stood buck naked before him and still no sign of a reaction in the crotch of his pants. Okay, maybe he is gay, and this is some weird food fetish. Not to stereotype, but he’s a freaking reality TV chef. Of course he’s gay!
“Don’t move,” he instructed in a hushed whisper.
“K.” What have I gotten myself into?
In a flurry of exuberance, Alex stripped out of his clothing. He had not gotten it up, and I all of a sudden felt uncomfortable in my nakedness and covered my sex with both my hands out of embarrassment. Somehow, I hadn’t envisioned losing my virginity like this.
“You, over there.” He pointed with the wooden ladle he held like a baton as he orchestrated this whole sploshing event. His face lit up with excitement.
“What now?” I tried to appear mature and into everything we were doing, though, in truth, I was getting more freaked out by the second.
“Are you ready?” he whispered. Grinning like a mischievous schoolboy, he unleashed the full bowl of creamy custard over the top of my head.
“Noooo!” I howled, eyes blazing, “But it’s so sticky!”
The rich milky dessert glopped and fell over me, coating my entire body, causing my nipples to harden. When I glanced down at bacon boy, I was surprised to find he’d become rock hard, clearly loving the effect the sticky confection had on me. The thick mixture coated my arms, my back, and dripped onto my thighs and in between my legs. I was covered in the stuff.
Alex ran off, returning with bowl number two, and loaded the tub with its contents. It was maddening, and there was nothing I could do.
“Wait!” I cried when he brought bowl number three.
“Oh, you are so sweet, I think you deserve another.” He gave my cheek a long lascivious lick. Alex had a boner to beat the band just from pouring the third bowl all over me.
Creamy goodness covered my face, my entire body coated and dripping. I tried to wipe some of it away from my eyes, just in time to see Alex running back buck naked with the fourth
and final bowl. He brought it into the tub with him then poured it all down the front of his ripped chest and six-pack abs.
Closing my eyes, I surrendered to the craziness of it all. Insane, completely nuts, and utterly ridiculous, but for some strange reason…I loved it!
Laughing, we glided our bodies up and down one another’s, licking each other as if possessed.
“God, you’re yummy!” Alex murmured as he kissed and licked me down my chin, my chest, all the way to my belly button, cutting a path with his tongue through the creamy substance covering my body.
In my life, I had never experienced anything quite as sensual and fun as this. I couldn’t believe it, but I liked the attention he gave me, enjoyed the feeling of his tongue licking the sweet stuff off my body. All of a sudden, this became the best way ever to lose one’s virginity. As I stood in two inches of goop in the oversized bath, he sucked my body clean. Lingering on my nipples a bit, he then pulled me toward him, sitting in the tub, his junk landing in the goop, his balls coated in the stuff. For some reason, this aroused me even more, and as I splashed my butt down before him, our legs entwined. Positioning himself between my thighs, where the creamy mixture had coated my pussy, he began to lick me, running his tongue between my legs. Soon he licked my sex, my slit, my clitoris.
“Oh, this feels good,” I murmured as he sucked the tip of my sugarcoated clitoris. I succumbed to his ministrations.
“You just may be the most delish dessert I have ever made.” He smiled, staring up at me from between my legs, his mouth and chin drenched in the golden concoction. He quite literally drank me in as he lapped up my love juices mixed with the sweet dessert.
I giggled, responding to his touch, anticipating the moment to come. Desire unfolded throughout my body, and I found myself hungry for him. My tongue every bit as avaricious on his body as his on mine. He grew alongside my leg, and I slid myself around to find his slippery hard dick, licking up and down the shaft. Kissing it. Tasting it. I sank my face down into the custard, amazed by how delicious this man’s sex tasted in my mouth. If this is the way every blow job tastes—sweet and yummy—why did I wait so long? I devoured him, my appetite insatiable.
How Six Chefs Got It On Page 3