“Do you mind if I order?” Bobby said.
The young, brash man seemed too mature before my very eyes. “Okay.”
After ordering a fine bottle of red wine, he glanced at the menu and said, “Deux soupe aux truffles en croute. Then we’ll have le rouget en ecailles de pommes de terre. And for dessert . . . Let’s see. La tarte tatin.”
The waiter nodded and left us.
“That’s quite an impressive choice. I didn’t know Errol was a student of Paul Bocuse.”
“Who?”
I laughed into my linen napkin. “Only one of the most renowned and highly respected chefs in all of France, if not the entire culinary world. He has an innovative approach to everything he does.”
Bobby grinned. He was toying with me, I was sure of it. Of course he knew who Paul Bocuse was. Everyone at the institute knew him.
Our soups arrived. Two large bowls topped with a dome crust. We cut an opening into the crust and savored the flavorful soup.
“Heaven,” he said.
I wanted to echo his sentiment, but settled on, “It really is the best soup I’ve ever had.”
“It’s tasting food like this, this blend of flavors, the knowledge of such unique techniques that hooked me.” Bobby scooped up another spoonful. “I mean, back home.” He shrugged and seemed uncomfortable for the first time. “Hey, I’m good on the grill. I can sauté some heavy duty vegetables. I can even manage a pretty decent soufflé, but . . . Hell, I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to come up with dishes like this.”
“Are you doubting yourself?”
With a shrug, he looked at the contents of his spoon. “Look at that. So perfect. So perfectly seasoned. So perfectly balanced. And this crust. So perfectly golden.”
“Give yourself a chance, Bobby. You’ve just started at the institute. I have no doubt you’ll fly through your classes and before long, you’ll be opening a restaurant to rival Errol King’s.”
His eyes left his spoon and met mine. There were questions in those deep pools of blue, maybe even a bit of fear. Was the cockiness he’d greeted me with just a front? A hard exterior he’d put up to protect the fragile interior? A shell to ward off failure?
I didn’t question him; not during that dinner, nor the ride home that night. It was only the following morning when we met and took a taxi to Bois de Boulogne that I brought it up.
“It mustn’t be easy being the younger brother of a talent like Taryn Cummings, never mind the brother-in-law of Errol King.”
He stared out the window as we passed through the narrow streets of Paris. “Let’s just say the bar is high.”
“I guess I should be thankful for that. No one ever pressured me into this. It was simply what I fell in love with.”
“Taryn opened the door for me at the institute. It’s largely due to her good word that I was able to get a scholarship and get in. But sometimes, when I feel the weight of expectation, from her, from Errol and from my mother, I wish I’d simply been left to find my way on my own.”
I set my hand over his. “Then maybe we wouldn’t have met.”
Squeezing my fingers, he chuckled. “In that case, I’ll work harder to live up to the Cummings name.”
We arrived at the nearly nine hundred hectares of rolling hills, drizzling waterfalls and manmade grottoes a half hour later. It was a lazy morning, one that invited a slow and unhurried stroll around Lac Inferieur.
“So, does this off the beaten path tour of Paris include dinner at your place?”
“I hadn’t really put that on the itinerary.”
“How else am I going to find out what a great chef you are?”
We found a vacant park bench and sat down. A variety of ducks, geese and other birds immediately headed our way looking for an easy meal.
“I’m not quite a chef yet,” I said. “I may be a technician, but I haven’t quite mastered everything I need to in order to become a veritable chef.”
“All right. So I’ll taste the creations of a technician. I’m cool with that.”
“I guess I could clear some time on my schedule to make you dinner. Let’s say, Thursday.”
Nodding, we stared straight ahead, as if this upcoming private dinner loomed over us. Bobby stretched his legs out in front of him and tilted his head back.
Pouting, I continued to stare at the water in front of me. He was bored stiff, I thought. I’m supposed to bring him on a tour of one of the most exciting cities in the world, if not the most exciting city, and here we were staring at a duck pond.
I tried to think fast, tried to find something more exciting to show him. He’d ditch me as a mentor if I continued this way.
“There are some great flea markets at Belleville. We could go do a little shopping.”
“Sure,” he said without opening his eyes. “Sounds good.”
No, it didn’t. He still sounded bored stiff.
“Or maybe a stroll of Caulaincourt.”
“Yeah, whatever you say. It’s all good to me.”
Pulling in a long and exasperated breath, I crossed my arms over my chest. This wasn’t going well at all. My long, exasperated breath came out in a huff and Bobby finally looked at me.
“What’s up? Aren’t you enjoying this? You look bored,” he said.
“I look bored? You’re the one who is practically sleeping right in front of me.”
“I’m not sleeping. I’m taking in the sun. This is great.”
“Really?”
“Yes, really. What do you think?”
“I think I’m disappointing you and I’m trying like crazy to find something to do that will interest you.”
He swung his arm around my shoulder and pulled me closer. “I’ve lived in New York all my life. Sure I’ve made a few trips to Central Park a few times, and once a year my mom would bring us to the Adirondacks for a week away from the city, but my life has mainly been hectic, always running, always hurrying. Cabs, traffic, the constant blare of horns, not to mention sirens. And the smog. This . . .” He breathed in deeply and gave me an affectionate squeeze. “This is more than perfect, Lilly. This is the perfect calm that I needed after such a hectic week.”
Beaming, I pushed away from him and looked into his eyes, looking for any trace of dishonesty, but all I saw was a young man, happy and relaxed.
I was relieved and finally breathed with ease, until a thin veil of dark clouds obscured the autumn sun and tiny raindrops fell in a light mist.
“We’d better get going if we don’t want to get caught under that more menacing cloud.” The one that seemed to be coming fast.
At a swift pace, we walked past le Jardin de Bagatelle, but not long after, I realized I was a bit lost.
“Do you know how to get us out of here?” Bobby said.
I stopped to look around and tried to situate myself. “I only came once, with Soeur Pierrette and Soeur Agathe. I just followed them around and didn’t really pay that much attention to where we were going.”
I knew the park was big and had even been advised to take along a map if ever I returned, but I’d stubbornly assumed my innate sense of direction would prevail. It failed me miserably, and by the time we found someone who could direct us back to where we could grab a taxi, we were soaked to the bone.
Giggling, we hopped into a cab and tried to shake off as much water as we could, much to the chagrin of the driver who glared at us through his rearview mirror.”
“Je vous dépose . . . ?”
“Oh, oui. Milles pardons. Le Passage Vivienne pres du Palais Royal, s’il vous plait.”
“Tres bien.” He drove off without offering us the slightest hint of a smile.
Nonetheless, Bobby and I clung to one another giggling the whole way. At our destination we paid our fare and got out and I led him to the area’s version of a mall. “This is a covered passage,” I said. “A great place to go on a rainy day. We can walk all the way to la rue Cadet without getting wet.”
Wandering through the passage
, we stopped at various vendors, trying on silly hats at one and throwing silky scarves around our necks at the next. We grabbed fresh croissants at a kiosk then sat down for a hot cup of coffee when we realized we were still wet and chilled.
It’s only later, when I finally got back to my apartment, took a hot shower and slipped into my flannel pajamas that I realized just how fond I’d become of Bobby Cummings.
My student.
Yes, student.
Any and all attraction to him was highly inappropriate.
Yet, when I arrived at my class Monday morning, the first thing I did was check to see when Bobby had my class.
The last class of the afternoon. It would be a long day. But, as it turned out, it was a long week. Every day, students surrounded us and kept us from barely saying a word to one another. Our exchanges were strictly student/teacher, strictly based on the lesson of the day.
I longed for Thursday to come around.
Our dinner date.
I couldn’t remember the last time I’d been so nervous. Not only did I feel the pressure to cook a gastronomical meal, but entertaining a man in my home . . . It was so foreign to me. As I took out all the necessary ingredients and lined them up on the counter in the order in which I needed each, the phone rang.
“Allo.”
“Lilly, it’s me, Bobby.”
My heart sank. If he was calling me at this late hour instead of heading to my place, it couldn’t be good. “What’s up?”
“I hate having to call you at the last minute like this . . .”
Tears burned their way to my eyes and I had to blink repeatedly to keep them from spilling over my cheek.
“I can’t make it tonight,” he finished.
The past days filed quickly through my head; hardly talking to one another, barely a glance. He’d lost interest, whatever interest there may have been, it was gone.
“Oh, okay. I’m sorry to hear that.”
“Taryn called me at the last minute and insisted we get together to go over my first weeks at the institute.”
“That’s fine. I understand.” But I didn’t. Surely his sister could meet with him another day. “Thanks for calling ahead to let me know. Bye, Bobby.” I hung up before he could say anything more. I was livid.
I guess my lack of experience with men made it that much harder. I knew men played with women’s emotions. I knew men could be fickle.
Ha! Never mind all that. I pushed myself to make a great dinner. I wasn’t about to let all this good, fresh food go to waste. But in the end, I sat alone at the table with barely the appetite to enjoy my meal.
The next morning, as I prepared the day’s lesson in my office, I was still angry about Bobby’s rejection, and I dreaded my next class with him with more apprehension than ever. Should I just ignore him? Play it cool, like he’d never mattered?
A knock at the door broke through my thoughts and I reluctantly got up from my desk to answer. With the door barely ajar, Bobby pushed his way in, backed me up against the wall and pressed his body to mine.
“I can’t wait any longer.” He kissed me, his soft, sweet lips hard and demanding as his tongue sought mine.
At first I gasped and tried to fend him off, but his tongue worked a special kind of magic that left me helpless. Eager to surrender to the sensations he brought me, I went soft and pliable in his arms. And without my knowledge, my hands wrapped around him, one hand driving my fingers through his luxurious hair while the other trailed down his back.
“All week,” he murmured through the passionate kiss. “All week I thought of nothing else but our dinner together. It was the only think I looked forward to.”
His hands worked quickly to tear off my lab coat then pull down the zipper at the back of my dress. I didn’t resist when he peeled the dress off me and stared hungrily at my breasts. I licked my lips, not sure what to expect next, not sure what I should do.
He bent down to kiss the mounds of flesh that peeked out over the top of my bra and I let out a long hiss of a breath. My body felt like it was shooting rockets, hot, thrilled, exciting.
“Bobby,” I whispered.
“Yes,” he said with hunger. “Yes, Lilly.” He brought his hands around my back and freed my bra.
I’d never felt so exposed, but strangely, I wasn’t as embarrassed or ashamed as I thought I should be. In fact there was a sense of liberation that flowed over me.
But it’s when he once again bent over me, this time to catch one nipple in his lips, that I lost all control. In that instant I ceased to be Lilly Cooke, the little girl in the convent, the young woman in the kitchen lab, the teacher in the Basic Science class.
In that instant, I became a woman, clear and simple. My body was no longer my own, but his, entirely his. I wanted more of his touch, more of what he had to show me. His lips switched to my other nipple and once again the thrill of his touch sent sparks to every part of my body, namely the crux of my thighs.
There were no words, only groans and grunts as he tugged my dress over my hips and let it fall to the floor. And the groans and grunts escaladed when he peeled off my panties and sent them to join my dress. But those groans and grunts took on an entirely animal quality when he ran his finger along the folds of skin I’d never dared explore, and, making matters downright unbearable, he squatted down to run his tongue along the same path his finger had taken.
My eyes popped open and I shoved my fingers deep into his thick hair. “Oh, my God!” I could barely control my breathing as he continued, tugging, sucking, licking. “Oh, my God!”
Just as I thought the world was going to burst around me, he stood, pulled out his erection and guided it to me.
“Bobby,” I said. Apprehension had slowly crept up on me. I bit my lip as he nudged closer, the tip of his shaft pushing against me.
He kissed me, erasing whatever apprehensions I had. With his kiss, passionate and consuming, he pushed inside me, his erection filling a space I’d never allowed myself to consider.
“Bobby.”
“Lilly.”
I clung to him, kissing him as if my life depended on it. And when my body rose higher than I would have ever thought possible, when his accompanied mine, stride for stride, thrust for thrust, I knew what heaven on earth was.
Chapter 7
Bobby
I thought of Lilly every waking moment the rest of that day. After that quick but passionate moment in her office, I knew I was hooked. I wanted her in a way that ached. But with every passing moment we spent together, with every moment spent making love, kissing and cuddling, that ache only got worse. The more I had her, the more I wanted of her. I wanted her upright. I wanted her on all fours. I wanted her flat on her back.
“Monsieur Cummings,” the teacher called out.
I shook the vision of Lilly’s boobs out of my head and looked to the short and bulky man up front. “Oui, Monsieur.”
He rattled off some reprimand of which all I took in was, pay attention. I nodded, but my attention nonetheless reverted to Lilly. I was sure I’d burst before seeing her again. So far, I’d resisted the urge to masturbate, but if I didn’t see her soon . . . damn it.
But I survived until that night when I once again made my way to her apartment in the 19th district. I would have never thought I would find myself in that neighborhood again, but if it was to see Lilly, to spend another night with her, it was well worth it.
“Bobby,” she said in a husky voice when she opened the door. She wore only a thin, pale yellow cotton dress. In the dim light of her apartment I could see she wore no bra, no panties.
My cock was instantly stiff.
We wasted no time. There were no pleasantries and no formalities. No glasses of wine, no soft music and no hushed words. Just, have at ’em. We were like animals finally released from a cage, finally freed from the ties that kept us hungry. We’d hooked up almost every night for the past week and we still couldn’t get enough.
But this time, something had changed
. Lilly surprised me. The meek and innocent girl who’d been startled by the sight of my cock those first few times, who hadn’t dared touch it yet, now took control and straddled me. There was still a blush on her cheeks as she guided my cock inside her, but she seemed determined to have her way with me.
“I love you, Lilly,” I said as she pumped her ass up and down over me, each movement bringing me closer to a blessed orgasm. “I love you.”
Her lusty smile and smoldering gaze made me hungrier still, but I couldn’t help but notice that she didn’t respond to my declaration. She pumped harder, faster, letting her body take over. Her tits bounced up and down, up and down, jiggling in a way that made my cock even harder.
I was ready to burst. I was ready to explode. Oh, shit. Yes. I thrust up inside her, gripping her hips in my fist and spilling everything I had while I howled like the wild beast she’d turned me into. Her orgasm quickly followed, seizing my spent cock and sucking every last drop out of it.
“You sure learn fast,” I said when she fell over me in a sweaty, panting heap.
As she lay there, her breathing slowly returning to normal, I played in her hair and massaged her scalp.
“You know,” I said, my mind still in an orgasmic fog. “I’ve been around a time or two, but . . . You do something to me, Lilly.” Hell yeah, she did something to me. I’d even come close to telling Taryn and Errol just how I felt about her. I wanted to shout it at the top of my lungs, I wanted to call my mother and announce the good news. Damn, she’d be so happy. She would absolutely love Lilly. She was exactly the sweet and kind sort of person my mother wanted for me, and she was exactly the hot and wild seductress I wanted.
“I’m going back to New York for Christmas break,” I said.
“Oh,” she said softly.
“I was hoping you’d come with me.”
She shot off my chest so fast, I could have sworn I’d given her an electric shock. “New York?”
“Yeah. You’d love it. And I think it would be great if you could meet my mom.”
She blinked a few times then ran her hand over the spattering of damp, sweaty hair stuck to her forehead. “Bobby, I can’t go to New York.”
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