How Six Chefs Got It On

by S. Ford Brown

  When he drizzled the warm chocolate sauce all over my body, a thrill rushed through me.

  “I think a banana split is always a little sweeter with some nuts, don’t you agree?” Alex asked in a seductive tone. Whipping off his chef’s apron, he revealed his full-on raging erection, a condom already in place. Moving in front of where I lay on the table, he put both his arms around my hips, and, with no foreplay whatsoever, slid inside me. The sploshing effect and his stiff cock within me filled me with a glorious intensity. I moaned.

  The smoldering heat of our passionate, rough sex caused the ice cream to melt fast. Alex pumped harder and harder into me. I groaned again. Beneath the layers of banana split sundae he’d adorned me with, I rode the crest with him, loving every minute of it.

  “You. Are. So. Sweet,” he cried out.

  The warmth of his cum and the coldness of the ice cream made my legs shake, and I came in a blast of abrupt ecstasy, writhing and wriggling beneath him. His slippery dick slid out from inside me, the sagging, cum-filled condom tickling my clitoris.

  “So freaking hot,” I whispered into his sticky, chocolate-covered ear.

  Tweaking my nipple, Alex laughed. “Hmmm…just the warmup.”

  Before I could say a word, he swiped a dollop of ice cream off my breast with his finger and raised it to my lips.

  “Want some?” he asked, teasing me.

  As I lay trussed up and helpless like a Thanksgiving Day turkey ready for basting, I nodded. “Yes.” And as I did, the cherry on my nose slid down to my lips.

  Alex leaned over me and nibbled into the cherry I held clenched between my teeth. He trailed his tongue from my lips to my nipples to my sex and back again, licking me with fervor, lapping up the ice cream and whipped cream.

  “Please, Alex.” The sensation was indescribable, almost like being tickled but more sensual and more torturous, and then his lips found my clitoris. He licked and sucked and drank in my love juices which mixed with his homemade chocolate sauce and the feeling…. Oh God, so amazing, so delicious. I raged against the cords binding me to the table. “Please,” I wailed.

  “Still just warming up, Sweet Tart.” He reached for one of the maple-syrup rock-candy swizzle sticks we’d made to adorn the banana splits.

  He moved the sugary swizzle stick to my mouth and inserted it between my lips, twirling it, easing it out again. He lowered it down between my thighs, twirling it into me like a candy screwdriver. He turned it slowly, peering into my eyes with each twist of his wrist.

  “You’re like my personal Popsicle, Sweet Tart,” he murmured.

  I sighed, words escaped me. Then he removed the swizzle stick from deep inside me and sucked it into his mouth. “You are so very sweet.”

  Again he dipped the swizzle stick within me, like a fun dip candy, and I went off like an atom bomb beneath him for a second time in mere minutes.

  After I returned to earth, he untied me, and I lay crumpled into a ball on his kitchen table. When I reached over to stroke his skin, he grabbed my index finger and licked the stickiness off it then worked his way through the tip of each of my fingers. Still smiling, he sucked my pinky.

  “As long as I’m going to lick the plate clean, I might as well do it right. You really are a sweet young thing, Miss Summers.”

  “So you tell me.” I giggled.

  “Yes. Well, it’s because you are.”

  I gulped, not knowing what to say. Are we becoming a couple?

  Alex’s brows pulled together. “You seem worried.”

  “A little bit…about tomorrow.” I winced, not being altogether truthful. I also worried about what would become of us once the show ended.

  “I don’t understand.” Alex mused, dubious to my remark. “Did you just taste our bacon ice cream? We can’t lose.”

  I narrowed my eyes. “I think you’re being a bit overconfident.”

  Alex chuckled. “How’s the worrying working out for you?”

  I stared down at my sticky fingers then up into his intense gaze. “Pretty good so far. We’ve won every episode.”

  “Good, then. Keep it up. As for me, I’m gonna keep being as confident as hell because I smell success.” He took a big sniff of the ice cream and made one long lick from my hips to my toes, stopping long enough to take a playful bite out of my little piggy toe. “Absolutely scrumptious!”

  An hour later, he devoured one of the bacon sandwiches he’d made for us as an after-sex snack. “Aren’t you hungry?”

  “No.” I laughed inwardly. I didn’t feel like bringing up the obvious fact we’d just consumed a human-size banana split sundae.

  “Mind, then?” He reached over for the other sandwich on my plate.

  I shook my head. “Can I ask you a question?”

  “Shoot,” he shrugged, munching away at the sandwich.

  “Do you really think we’re going to win this whole thing?”

  “Yes. We will. No question about it.”

  “Er, okay, whatever you say.”

  “I’m sorry. What else do you want me to say? Yes. We will win. I am certain.”

  “I wish I could be as positive as you about everything.” I pursed my lips.

  “Why can’t you be?”

  I shrugged and rolled my eyes. How could I tell this eternal optimist how life hadn’t always been so rosy for me? How the loner in me, the outsider, didn’t believe in happily ever afters because she’d never experienced one in her whole freaking life. Yes, I’m on the X-games—a dream come true for me—but I’d never won a single time, not once. And now, being on this show…the money could change my life in so many ways, let me keep skating and finish college, and—

  “Trust me on this, okay?” His confident tone rattled through me. How could I not?

  The next day made me anxious, but when I was with him, I somehow felt safe. He always made me feel so secure.

  “Well, I’m going back to the hotel now,” I sighed, “Big day tomorrow. Can I catch a ride there?”

  Turning his attention away from his bacon sandwich and reaching out a hand, he pulled me into his embrace, “Come on. Stay the night with me…here.”

  I hesitated. We’d been having a lot of fun these past few weeks, but I’d never spent the entire night with him at his place, not on purpose anyway. I mean, he’d never asked me to spend the night with him. Sometimes we just kind of fell asleep and crashed.

  But this? The thing between us had become far more serious than any relationship I’d ever been in. I didn’t know if I could handle it.

  Episode Seven

  It was a late afternoon in mid-September when my family and friends came over to watch the first episode of Happy Endings. Sworn to secrecy by the non-disclosure agreement all the contestants had to sign before being on the show, I waited for the program to start with all the rest of them, knowing full well what the outcome had been and how only Alex, myself, Olive, and Frenchie had been left standing at the end of the pre-taped shows.

  A series of vignettes to introduce this season’s contestants began to play. When the shot of me licking Alex’s chocolate-coated fingers played on the screen, I squirmed. The food fight shot came next, and I watched my family and friends fidget at all the sexual innuendoes playing out on the high-definition television screen.

  One thought filled my mind. Death by chocolate.

  Episode Eight

  Three-quarters of an hour later, it was me squirming, writhing…no, seething about what I’d witnessed, what had gone behind my back when we were filming. I’d known about Olive coming on to Alex big time but never realized he had been coming on to her as well, stringing her along, feeding into her hand, so to speak.

  He sat beside me on my family couch, in front of pretty much everyone I knew. When a close-up of him and Olive snuggling off set came on the screen, I released his hand.

  “Honey, tell us a joke,” my mother called out to my father then focused on Alex. “Tonya’s father is always so funny. Tells stories to make us laugh all the
time.”

  Nothing, however, could make me laugh about what had gone on between Alex and Olive on the television set for everyone to see though. We’d been going pretty steady, hot, and heavy since the show had stopped filming almost four months ago. I’d never been in a relationship which had lasted this long. I’d thought he loved me or at least he seemed really into me. I’d thought he might be the one. I’d believed him when he told me he’d dropped Olive as his partner and chosen me instead. But the reality show told a whole different story.

  “Tonya, are you all right?” my dad asked, sounding concerned.

  “It’s not what it appears,” Alex whispered in my ear so the rest of the room couldn’t hear.

  “Yes, sir,” I answered my dad, and moved a few inches away from Alex on the sofa. I wanted to get out of there, to crawl out of the living room. How humiliating!

  No! Please, please, please let me be wrong. Let me be imagining this entire thing about Olive and Alex. How could he have been playing her right under my nose? It just doesn’t make any sense.

  I hated reality TV more than ever.

  Episode Nine

  After the first show of the season ended, everyone clamored to know who had been the last two teams standing.

  “Who is it?” The question must have been asked a hundred times, but Alex and I were sworn to secrecy.

  We found our way to the garden to get away from all the curious minds who would not stop badgering us about who had gone on to the live season finale.

  “What’s wrong?” Anger laced his words.

  “You tell me.”

  “It’s just a game show, Tonya. A reality-TV game show. I don’t even know if the footage we watched is from before you came on the show and we began filming all over again. Do you ever remember seeing me do half the stuff you saw in there?”

  “No,” I groaned. I hadn’t seen him flirting with Olive at all.

  “Please, can we agree not to ruin what we have over whatever this show might throw at us? I think what we have is pretty cool.” He took on a quiet, sincere tone. “I’d hate to see it destroyed by some gimmicky TV show.”

  “I-I guess so. But I can’t make any promises. It upset me to watch, Alex. You and Olive—ugh!”

  He chuckled, which pissed me off even more. “It’s reality TV. It’s meant to get the audience going. Obviously, it worked on you.”

  I gave him a hard, you got to be kidding me stare.

  “Will you promise me something?”

  I nodded as usual, never able to say no to him.

  “Will you promise me no matter what you see on the show over the next few weeks, you won’t be offended, you’ll trust me when I tell you nothing happened with Olive? I think I know what the producers are trying to do with the show, and it could get ugly.”

  I glared at him. Something absolutely happened on the show. He wouldn’t ask me this unless it did. “I don’t know if I can.” What the hell did he do with her?

  “Don’t know—” Hurt filled his eyes. “Why?”

  “Don’t know, Alex, because if they show you fucking her or something on television or making her some delicious dessert…. I don’t know, okay?”

  “Sure.” He shrugged, and, for the first time since I had known him, Alex Stanley did not have a smile on his face.

  Episode Ten

  A few weeks later. Alex and I watched the third week of the show together. Since the season premiere, we’d decided to view each episode alone, just the two of us, at his place. Far less humiliating this way.

  I couldn’t believe how inspired I got to have sex with Alex. The more I saw Olive coming on to my guy, the more I wanted to fuck his brains out. It made no sense, but as I seethed on the inside, I tried to honor his request, and not get overcome with jealousy. So, instead, I got overcome with lust and fucked him silly—completely mind-blowing sex.

  This week’s show was the one where we’d made the bacon-and-egg Jell-O shots. It was week three, but the show pretty much followed the same techniques as all the other reality shows out there and tried to keep the audience guessing so they could stretch things out.

  The Jell-O orgy took up most of the show, and I squirmed when the clip of Alex jumping into the green Jell-O and the wrestling match came on. A close-up of Olive and Alex, writhing together in the green goo, took center stage. They pretty much ate each other’s face, and I swear I thought I saw him lick her breasts.

  A shot of the two of them making out in the Jell-O blasted across Alex’s gigantic television screen, and I bolted upright on the couch. “Are you kidding me?”

  He groaned. “Yeah, I guess.” He reached over to touch me.

  “Keep your hands off me,” I snapped. “You were making out with Olive in the Jell-O orgy?”

  “Well, I—”

  I jumped up from the overstuffed sofa. “I’m leaving.” Confused and angry, I needed time on my own to clear my head.

  “Where are you going?”

  “I’m going home,” I snarled. Since the first night he’d asked me to spend the night before we stopped filming, I had pretty much taken to spending all my time at Alex’s. But after the Jell-O scene, it just felt weird and wrong. Ugh! Him munching on Olive’s face—too much for me to watch.

  “Tonya, they shot the scene before we hooked up. You know how much I get off on food and sex. I don’t know what came over me. She started to make out with me in the Jell-O, naked, and next thing I knew….”

  I tried to maintain what miniscule bit of dignity I had left as he tried to explain how the incident had happened, how my partner ended up making out with Olive in a pool of green Jell-O for the whole world to see.

  “Yes?” I snapped.

  Alex fiddled with the remote. “I’m sorry?” he mumbled, shaking his head, asking more than stating.

  I took a big breath. Damn it, he was just so sexy, so guilty, so yummy. I should have been pissed off, but something in me wanted him right there and then. I was so vulnerable to this man’s charms.

  “Will you forgive me if I make you dessert?”

  I nodded, but my arms remained crossed in front of me, my lips pursed in a childish pout. But the more I thought about it, the more I realized he was right—we hadn’t gotten involved until after the Jell-O scene.

  “Will you still be angry with me though?”

  “Maybe.” I smirked. “I guess it depends on how good the dessert is.”

  “I am sorry I upset you. I didn’t mean to make you feel uncomfortable. I had a feeling they might show the clip. We just kissed, but….” Damn, nice guy Alex, being so sincere…. I melted like butter.

  “Are there any more shots like this one?” I glanced at the TV where Alex and Olive were making out in a slow-motion loop, with the announcer saying, “Is this the end for Alex and Tonya? Stay tuned.”

  Alex grabbed the TV remote and clicked the television off. “Um, watching it over and over doesn’t help me, does it?”

  Realizing how Alex had deflected my question, I took another, longer deep breath and repeated, “Is it the last time they got a shot of you with her, Alex?”

  “It would be bad if I answered no, right?”

  “Very bad,” I growled.

  He shook his head. “No,” he replied, smiling. “Yes. Last time with her, promise.”

  Our eyes locked, and the energy in the room became electrically charged with passion. “So, what’s for dessert, then?”

  He squeezed me tight. “Baker’s choice.”

  I bit my lip, “Then I choose you, Alex.”

  “Go on.”

  “Let me make you dessert tonight.”

  The shadow of a smile graced his lips. “I’m curious. What do you have in mind?”

  I raised one eyebrow, leading him into the kitchen. “Hmmm…let me think…. How about taking a swim in a bacon milkshake?”

  Episode Eleven

  The day of the live grand finale arrived, and Alex and I waited backstage at the studio while all of our friends and family sa
t out in the audience. Olive and Frenchie were there as well. Tonight, we would find out how the bacon ice cream had turned out. Alex remained as cool as ever. Olive flirted with everyone. And Frenchie was smug—arrogant prick.

  I tried to keep my shit together, avoid Olive, and win the half-a-million dollars. The final say at the grand finale was up to Nicodemus, who always announced the grand-prize winners from his usual spot right outside the studio. Tons of people had gathered around him, reminding me of a red-carpet crowd in Hollywood. The huge screens in the studio revealed the famous storyteller outside, licking the ice cream and smacking his lips while we waited to find out who had won the grand prize.

  All of the previous contestants had been brought back, and clips from the previous shows used almost fifty minutes of the one-hour live episode. Commentary from other big-name chefs filled most of the last ten minutes. Nigella and Anthony, along with a whole slew of other famous TV chefs I did not know but who all knew Alex carried on about the creative recipes the contestants had come up with and how cutthroat the competition had been.

  “Come.” Alex ushered me backstage during a commercial break.

  “Should we leave now?” I all but shook with anticipation.

  “Just for a second.” He licked his lower lip. “It’ll be okay.”

  Behind the enormous curtains, he grabbed me, and I squealed, surrendering to his unexpected embrace.

  “What are you doing?” I giggled.

  His eyes gleamed with wickedness, and he bit my lower lip playfully. “I want to eat you up, here and now.”

  I succumbed to his kiss. God how I loved this man.

  “No, really, I wanted to thank you for helping me make my dreams come true for me and for the veterans this money is going to help.” His tone had become more serious than I had ever heard before.