4: In Which She is on the Menu
Erin was at her desk reading a magazine. She sat up straight when she saw me.
“Why haven’t you been answering my calls?” were the first words out her mouth.
I sat across her, crossing one leg over the other. “Because you deserve to be cut out of my life.”
“Oh, come on. Don’t be like that.” There was a grin on her face. “You have the look of someone who got laid good.”
“Your English is atrocious. No wonder you’re a photographer.” I stuck my tongue out at her.
“Fuck you.” She paused, winking at me. “So how was it, Jane?”
I blushed. “You can’t just do that to people, Er. I’m pretty sure there’s a law against shit like that.”
“Against what? Assisting a friend in receiving a sexual eruption?” She giggled. “I swear, Janelle, sometimes you act so…so pious! Like a nun who’s escaped a nunnery.”
I flung a ruler at her. She neatly dodged it, giggling loudly.
“Seriously, Er. That wasn’t cool. At all,” I said soberly, giving her my darkest look.
Erin had the grace to blush. “But…you had fun, right?”
I felt my face heat up as well. “You could say that.”
“And will you see Mr. Rochester again?”
I bit my bottom lip. “Probably not. Actually, definitely not.”
Erin sighed in defeat. “So you can return to fúcking your bisexual best friend? Nell, I don’t have to get a PhD to know how unhealthy that is.”
“I didn’t say anything about Prince,” I protested, holding my hands up. “I hardly think that…that so-called book club is healthy, either. In fact –”
“It’s just sex, sweetheart. If something comes from it – like Harry and me – then awesome. But if not, at least you got it good, right?”
I thought about how happy she'd been with her ex. “I guess so.”
“Good. Now run off into the world, my little sexually awakened bunny rabbit.”
I couldn’t help but laugh.
That afternoon, I had to dash out to the scene of a gas explosion at a clothes factory. No fatalities had been reported, although there were a few major injuries like third-degree burns and the like. It wasn’t much of a story but at least it was something.
And at least it didn’t involve horny exhibitionist CEOs.
Exhausted after interviewing as many different people as I could and watching Sean Pacey, our chief photographer, take pictures of the devastation, I wanted nothing more than to kick my feet up and crash. But first, I had to eat something.
Erin had often recommended Plaisir, a fancy French restaurant that had been around for ages. They also sold the best burgers, according to her, even though they were supposed to be all about high-end gourmet treats. So, after bidding adieu to Sean, who had to return to the office anyway, I got into my car and headed there. Plaisir was popular but surprisingly economical. Yes, there were expensive menus, but there were also affordable ones for cheapskates like me. I could never splurge on something that should have been free in the first place – in this case, food.
“Good day, madam,” the maitre d’ greeted me once I was inside. “Are you eating alone or are you waiting for someone?”
“I’m alone,” I replied, grateful that he didn’t ask about a reservation. I had never been anywhere that required reservations. Such was the life of a pauper.
“Stella, please show this lovely lady to table eighteen. I see it’s vacant.”
Stella was a big-busted redhead with the biggest, bluest eyes I’d ever seen. She flashed me a megawatt smile and led me to the empty table, telling me how gorgeous I looked. I was in jeans and an MCR T-shirt. I guessed that they were told to suck up no matter how poor their clients looked.
“Here’s a menu,” Stella drawled, pushing a leather-bound booklet across the table. “I’ll be back in a little while to take your order.”
“You’re welcome.” She hopped away.
As I glanced around the restaurant, I couldn’t help but be a little awestruck. The lights were ostentatious and bright and all the curtains were drawn. If I didn’t know any better, I’d have said that I’d stumbled into a different time zone, five hours ahead. It felt like night-time.
Whoever had designed the place deserved a medal – it was like a little chalet on the Swiss Alps. I’d never been to the Alps but it was definitely on my to-do list. I just never managed to save enough for the trip when the holidays cropped up.
“Everything to your liking, madam?” a voice said from above me.
“I haven’t had anything yet.” I looked up.
Stephen was looking down at me. His eyes dawned with recognition. “How did you know –”
“What are you doing here?” I cut him off, reddening. I looked him up and down, taking in the charcoal-black suit and tie. He looked spectacular, far more edible than he did in plainclothes.
“This is my restaurant,” he said, taking the seat opposite me.
“I think I should go.” I snapped the menu shut.
“What? Why? Look, I’ll go.”
“We weren’t supposed to see each other in the real world!” I hissed. This was awful.
“Real world? So where were you last Friday? Narnia?”
My embarrassment turned to annoyance. “Adorable. Do you watch all your patrons like a hawk?”
“Only the ones I’ve had my c0ck inside.”
I flung the menu at him, catching his shoulder as he dodged. The few clientele at their respective tables shot me curious glances. Some openly glared.
“Janelle,” Stephen chuckled, “your aim sucks.”
“I just want you to know that that was the sickest thing I’ve ever participated in. You’re all sick, perverted…psychos!”
He leaned forward. “You don’t mean that. You’re probably getting wet thinking about it.” He bit his bottom lip, drawing my attention to his pink pout. “Just like I’m getting hard remembering.”
I discreetly crossed one leg over the other and swallowed. “I’ve lost my appetite.”
“And I just got mine. Janelle, I know you’re probably in a rush but I’m Mr. Darcy tomorrow. How’s about we start a day early?”
Mr. Darcy? I thought, feeling the slight tug in my abdomen that told me I was horny as fúck and wouldn’t mind being thrown down in front of all these people.
“I have to…get back to work,” I heard myself say, biting my lip. “And we…we just can’t do this. Not in the real world.”
“Fantasies can become reality, Janelle. You just have to want them badly.”
I want it. I want it so bad.
“Come with me.” Stephen stood up and stretched his hand out.
I just want a burger and fries… I just want a burger and fries… I just want…
I took his hand.
“The kitchen?” I said, wrinkling my nose. “Don’t you know how unhygienic this is?”
Stephen laughed. “This is the old kitchen. Note the fact that it’s completely empty, sweetheart.”
He gestured at the large granite counter. “That was where the magic was created. By me, no less.”
“You’re a chef?”
“I was. Now I just run this world.” His eyes landed on my face. “I want to eat you.”
I took a step back. “You’re so…direct.”
“Screw beating around the bush, Janelle. It is what it is.” With that, he pressed his lips against mine, his hands gripping my face. He started slow, taking his time to trace the seam of my lips with his tongue. I moaned out a protest at his pace, parting my lips, and his tongue finally stroked inside me.
I felt my knees buckle at the sheer force of his kiss and wrapped my arms around his waist for support. His hands travelled to my arse, cupping it and squeezing.
“What if someone catches us?” I breathed into his mouth, the sound of my own blood and desire in my ears.
“They’ll probably masturbate.” He picked me up like I weighed a bag of air and set me on the granite counter. “Did you buy this T-shirt when you were twelve?” His hands pulled at the skin-tight fabric.
“I’m a small person.” Wrapping my legs somewhere around his groin, I kicked my pumps off.
“Take it off,” Stephen commanded.
“Janelle, I’m only going to ask you once.”
There was nothing but yearning in his eyes; yearning that I was sure was mirrored in my own eyes as well. Without answering, I tugged my top off, the cool air instantly biting my skin.
Stephen’s hands touched the soft skin of my tummy. I shivered. When he unhooked my bra, my hands immediately flew to my chest.
“What do you think you’re doing? Someone could –”
“Be adventurous, sweetheart. Be a fúcking explorer.” With that, he disentangled my legs from himself and went to the large steel refrigerator.
I felt like I had stripped at the doctor’s and was waiting for him to probe me. But there was also that what-is-he-going-to-do-next rush that spiked through me. Stephen was as unpredictable as the Grammys.
“Lie down, Janelle.” Stephen had a can of what looked like whipped cream.
I obeyed him, getting down on my back on the cold granite. My feet were slightly dangling over one end and my hair was hanging over the other. Stephen stood over my middle and leaned in. With his tongue sticking out in determination, I watched him squirt cream onto my rock-hard nipples. The sensation made me squeal.
“I love whipped cream,” he said softly, dabbing a finger into the mound on my left nipple. He brought it to his mouth. “Amazing.”
I closed my eyes and felt him unzip me.
“No.” My eyes flew open.
“Yes,” he corrected, pulling my jeans and underwear off in one practiced tug. He leaned down and kissed my pússy. “Hello, old friend.”
I couldn’t help the laugh that escaped my lips. Why was he being so silly?
Once again, I felt the cool sensation of the cream hitting me – except this time, it was on my pússy. I bit my bottom lip, squirming at the cool sensation of cream hitting my clít, my labia. Stephen squirted another glob on my navel and threw the bottle to the ground.
He stood at my feet and pulled me towards him. And just like that his mouth was on my cúnt, lapping at the cream like a crazed kitten. I felt his tongue flicker inside me and clenched my muscles, steeling myself for the onslaught I knew was coming. He continued licking up the cream, grazing my pússylips with his teeth and lashing into me with the tip of his tongue; nudging my clít with the bridge of his nose. I reached down and pushed his face inside me, wanting him to make me come.
I did. Hard. Long.
Breathing raggedly, I crashed down to earth, embarrassed. This was just like last Friday – best örgasm of my life, and then discomfort afterwards. There was no winning.
Stephen got onto the counter, suit and all. I inched myself up, giving him space. There was nothing more that I wanted than him inside me, as bold as that sounded.
“You’ll get cream on your suit,” I murmured, dipping my index finger into the mound on one nipple and putting it to my mouth.
He inhaled sharply. “Don’t do sexy things like that. You have no idea how turned on I am.” He pressed his bottom half against me, letting me feel the erection in his pants. “But I don’t have protection.”
Warning bells instantly went off in my head. I was usually on the Pill, for safety purposes – who would want me as their mum? – and because it helped relieve the period cramps I occasionally had.
But I hadn’t been on it lately.
Maybe it’s a sign.
Stephen searched my eyes for a response. The only guy I’d ever been with without protection was Prince, and only because we got tested together. But this was Stephen, my pleasure giver.
I racked my brain, thinking of my menstrual cycle and letting out a sigh. We were going to be good. I hoped. So I looked up at him and wrapped my legs around his waist.
“First, you’re going to lick this shít up – and then, Mr. Darcy, you’re going to fúck me,” I told him, licking my lips.
Stephen laughed, a deep sound that came from his stomach. He leaned down and gently latched onto a nipple.
I had to admit that burgers and fries could never give me this much pleasure.
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