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Ben Esra telefonda seni bosaltmami ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32
Chris stirred softly under his blankets. He peeked out from under them to look at his alarm clock:
‘8:06’
He still had almost half an hour before he needed to get up and after a long night of restless slumber, he could use a bit more sleep. He wrapped his head back up to block out the early morning light and as he rolled over he discovered, rather painfully, that he had morning wood.
“You again,” he complained to his own dick, “Didn’t you get enough last night?” he said, laughing to himself. He thought about last night; the ecstasy on Leslie’s face brought a smile to his own. He shimmied out of his pajama pants and boxers, still warm and cozy beneath the sheets and took his own half-hard member in his hands. Closing his eyes he relived the events still fresh in his mind; the curve of her body pressed to his, the smell of her perfume and arousal.
“Chris, get up!” came the cheery voice of his mother barging through the door unannounced. Chris’ eyes flew open and he immediately tried to hide the tent he was pitching, bending his dick in the most uncomfortable way possible in the process. “There’s fresh pancakes and sausage downstairs!” she added, oblivious to or ignoring his predicament. She left as suddenly as he had appeared and shut the door behind herself. Chris grumbled, snapped from his reverie, and got out of bed. He grabbed his towel and went to the bathroom, still sporting his erection.
Locking the door behind him, Chris cranked the shower on and didn’t bother waiting for the water to warm up before stripping down and hopping in. The cold water shocked his body and helped to cool down his libido. The shower soon turned warm and Chris washed away the smell of sex from his body. Chris hadn’t had sex in almost seven months. His first girlfriend, Nikki, was a prude. He had been going out with her for over a year before she gave it up. When the two finally did have sex, she would just lay there, no positions other than missionary.
By contrast his second girlfriend, Sadie, was a nymphomaniac. She wanted to fuck constantly. She would come over to his house while he was sleeping, climb up the tree outside his window and tap on the glass until she was let in where she would quickly pounce on him and ride him until she was satisfied. She loved giving blow-jobs, especially road head. She would suck him off anywhere and swallow all of his cum like a champ. He loved how adventurous she was. He never had to initiate any of their sexual rendezvous and she loved being on top and in control. She would demand that he fuck her and when he ‘refused’ she’d spank him playfully until he gave in. It wasn’t the pain that got him horny but the beautiful women controlling his every move.
He could have spent many gratifying years in her company had her parents not moved. ‘The life of an Army brat,’ she used to say. She had gone to three different elementary schools, three different middle schools and she was on high school number two when she was in school with Chris.
Chris pulled himself out of reminiscing about ‘Sadistic Sadie’ as he affectionately called her and finished his shower. He threw on a clean pair of boxers, black chef pants and a white t-shirt and then ran downstairs to grab some pancakes before they got too cold. He served himself a couple and drowned them in syrup before eating them in only three bites. He thanked his mom and headed off to work in a hurry. He felt a bit run-down from last night’s escapades and was kind of miffed that he had to come in so early, but Sarah needed help with a carving station for a wedding.
He parked his car and went into the kitchen where everyone was running around; cooking some items and putting the final touches on others. Sarah was barking orders to a busboy who looked like her was on the verge of tears. The kid was fairly new here and had already done quite a few things to get on her shit list. Today she was especially stressed. Sarah hated weddings. She hated the stupid food requests like vegan meals. She hated having to make room in her walk-in refrigerator for cakes and flowers. She hated the bridezillas who would often come in the kitchen to bitch about the tiniest details to which she had to plaster a fake smile on her face and apologize for things she didn’t do. She relished in the fact that the divorce rate was so high in this country and that those bitches would probably be alone in five years.
“You look tired, Newbie,” Sarah said when she noticed Chris walking through the kitchen on the way to the time clock. He didn’t think he looked that bad so he shrugged it off. “Here take a sip of this,” she said, handing him a cup of fizzy yellow liquid.
He took a whiff of it and smelled the distinctive citrus odor of Red Bull. “No thanks, that stuff always gives me the jitters,” Chris replied, handing it back.
“I can’t drink it straight either so I watered it down,” she said, pushing it back towards him, he shrugged and took three big gulps before he caught the aftertaste.
“You watered it down with vodka?!” he asked incredulously.
“It’s mama’s happy juice,” she beamed, “It’s ofise gelen escort the only thing keeping me sane. The Red Bull perks me up and allows me to deal with this bullshit and the Kettle One makes sure I don’t get too perky!”
Chris shook his head and handed her drink back. “So am I doing the carving station?” he asked as he put his chef coat and apron on.
“Yeah. Jose’s still out until tomorrow and Mark’s not coming in until three,” she said, going over her prep list attached to a clipboard. “The reception brunch starts in thirty minutes. Can you just go out and make sure all the chafing dishes are hot and that the tables look nicely garnished? I told that Trevor kid to do it but I’m not so sure he could find his ass with two hands.”
Chris nodded and did as he was told. When he arrived in the dining room and to check everything Trevor, the busboy she berated earlier, was buzzing around nervously, trying not to screw things up. Chris went over to him and patted him on the back which caused him to almost jump out of his skin. “Hey dude, looks good out here,” Chris said trying to reassure the kid.
“I just don’t want to piss Chef Sarah off,” he responded, “I heard that she once lit a dude on fire for asking her a dumb question!” the young kid said, genuinely scared.
“Well it was one of the cooks and his question was ‘Do you think we could light this Purell on fire?’ as he held a pile of it in his hand. So she took a stick lighter and lit his hand on fire.” Trevor looked at Chris horrified. “Look, we cooks do some stupid shit for laughs. The gel caught fire, but he put it out before it even got hot. She’s not this scary lady,” he continued as he straightened the corners of the table skirt, “She’s just a hard ass who likes things done a certain way and that’s because her way usually is the best way.”
Trevor nodded, “Is it true she once put a cobra in someone’s car for fucking up an order?” he queried.
“It wasn’t a cobra, it was her pet boa constrictor and it wasn’t as some sort of punishment, she was just messing with a waiter who said he was afraid of snakes. The thing was still in its glass aquarium!”
“Why do people spread rumors about her being so bad-ass?” Trevor asked.
“I think Sarah starts a lot of the rumors, the rest are just exaggerations of things that really happened,” Chris surmised. “Your best bet is to just do your job to the best of your abilities, stay out of the kitchen unless you need to be there and think before you act. It took me working here for three months before Sarah started treating me like I was worth a damn. And I work side by side with her every day,” Chris said bluntly, “She still gets on me but I’ve learned not to take it personally.”
Trevor nodded, visibly calmer now. Chris smoothed out some of the linens and arranged the table garnishes to give them height and visual appeal. He gave Trevor a thumbs up and headed back to the kitchen. The spiked Red Bull was giving him a bit of pep without the jitters, mental clarity without nervousness.
Chris helped to put the food in the chafing dishes and set up his carving station with a large bone-in ham. The brunch started off at a good pace; people came in, mingled, went through the line. He wasn’t inundated with guests but he also wasn’t standing around. He smirked as a couple of bridesmaids dressed in hideous pink ruffles were attempting to dance in their ill-fitting dresses.
“I think those bitches put their friends in ugly dresses on purpose,” came Sarah’s voice from right over his shoulder. He hadn’t heard her come over so it startled him a bit. “That Trevor kid did a nice job in here,” she remarked, “Seems he finally pulled his head out of his ass.”
“Hey Sarah, can you take over for a sec? I have to pee!” Chris whispered to his boss.
“And what if I don’t let you go,” she said, an evil glimmer in her eyes.
“Then you’re going to have to do some apologizing to Princess Bridezilla and her guido father,” he said rather smugly.
“Go on, get out of here,” she said, jabbing him playfully in the ribs. She really didn’t want to have to explain why her employee peed on the floor. Chris took off his apron, tucked it under the table and made his way towards the nearest bathroom, passing wedding guests walking with plates of food and chatting. Entering the restroom, he pulled up to one of the urinals, dropped his fly and relieved himself. In one of the stalls behind him he distinctly heard the sounds of clothes being taken off and two people kissing one another. A quick peek behind confirmed a gentleman with his pants around his ankles and a pair of women’s shoes, the same horrid pink color as the wedding party. He finished up, washed his hands and returned to the dining room.
“Sarah, there are two people screwing in the men’s room,” Chris whispered.
A sly smile crept over her face and she pulled out her walkie-talkie, “Kitchen to Security.”
“Security go ahead,” came the crackly voice through the speaker.
“Code ‘F’ in the men’s room off otele gelen escort the ballroom,” she replied.
“Ten-Four.”
Less than a minute later, Scott from security dressed in a nice suit with an earpiece dangling from his right ear came into the ballroom, gave Sarah a nod and went in to the bathroom. Shortly after he entered, a gentleman came out of the bathroom, tucking in his shirt and pulling up his fly, followed very soon by a woman who’s face was redder than her dress.
“You’re evil,” Chris said to his boss, knowing full well what she was going to do when he told her about the couple.
“Look, this is a hotel, not a brothel,” she said frankly. “And if you were really concerned about their embarrassment you wouldn’t have told me!”
Chris conceded, “You’re right. I love it too!” Chris and Sarah both had the same sick sense of humor. They loved watching people squirm, Sarah just tended to take it so much further than Chris ever would. The rest of the afternoon went well. Chris helped break down the tables and bring in the food from the buffet, then he helped Sarah prep for a busy dinner shift.
“We’ve got a total of one hundred-fifty reservations on the books, but that doesn’t count walk-ins,” Sarah said, giving her staff a quick pep talk. “I’m going to be expediting, Mark is on grill, Johnny’s doing sauté, and Chris is on salads and desserts. Chris, if you need help, shout and I can go down.”
“Yeah, that’s what she said! Am I right, guys?” Johnny chimed in. Johnny was leaning against the wall, resting his tall, muscular frame against the shiny steel. His mother was of middle-eastern descent, giving him olive-toned skin, dark hair and exotic features but he was born and raised in America. He was a funny but crude man. He told the dirtiest jokes, especially about women, Jews and dead babies. He was always good for a laugh, and a helping hand. He’d give you the shirt off his back if you asked.
“Welcome back from vacation. We missed you!” Sarah said with a healthy dose of sarcasm. Rumor has it that Johnny and Sarah used to date, or at least hook up regularly. Chris wasn’t sure what she saw in him, with all of his degrading comments about ‘broads.’ “Chris, don’t let me see you get in the weeds without asking for help,” she added.
Chris nodded and made sure his station was ready, checking off his mental list, ‘Hazelnut dressing, check; blood orange vinaigrette, full bottle; lettuce, cut and ready to go; spiced pecans, check.’
The ticket machine started printing out orders right at five-thirty. Sarah would pull the ticket, give one copy to Mark, keep the carbon copy for herself and shout out the order. When the ticket had been read aloud, everyone who had something to do for that order would shout back a chorus of ‘Yes Chef!’ and proceed making the requested dishes.
“Fours covers, order in: Chris, one House Salad, one arugula, one duck and Johnny, one crab cake,” Sarah read off the ticket.
“Yes Chef.” The apprentice and veteran chef responded in unison. Chris dressed the salads and put them in the serving window. Johnny put the order of crab cakes and the duck confit in the oven to warm them.
“Deuce.” Sarah called out, using the slang for a table for two, “Order in, one arugula, that’s two all day Chris and Johnny another crab cake.”
“Yes Chef,” Johnny put another order of crab cakes in the oven, fishing out the previous occupants, putting both the duck and the crab cakes under to broiler to crisp them up. Chris dressed another peppery arugula salad and topped the greens with crisp pears and roasted red onions. Johnny plated the first order of crab cakes, placing them on a puddle of red pepper beurre blanc sauce,garnishing them with a zigzag of bright green basil coulis.
“Order up,” Sarah said, summoning a food runner. She loaded up his tray, “Table twenty-seven,” and the young man was off to deliver the food.
The dinner rush had begun and food was leaving the kitchen quickly. “Good job guys, keep it going strong!” Sarah said, motivating her staff. Each one of them kept up and put out good food for the next hour. There was a small lull in service; the guests were enjoying their entrées, empty tables were waiting to be cleared.
As one of the bar-backs passed her, she snagged him by the shirt sleeve, “Mira Martín, dame cuatro Red Bull por favor,” she asked the guy in Spanish. He promptly came back with the four Red Bull cans and she gave him a quick ‘Gracias’ before doling them out to her staff. “Chris, you want one? she asked the young apprentice. He shrugged and took a can from her, popped the top and took a gulp before stashing the rest in his salad cooler. Sarah poured hers into her reusable plastic cup, took a quick look around and reached into the bottom pocket of her black cargo pants. Smiling, she pulled out a large silver flask and poured a good measure into the cup along with the bubbly yellow Red Bull.
“Shit Sarah!” Johnny exclaimed to which he was quickly shushed. “Pass it down!” he said in a softer tone.
Sarah sincan escort reluctantly let him have her flask. He poured a couple ounces into his cup and took a swig from the threaded metal mouth of the flask before offering to pass it down the line. Everyone else declined and he took another sip before screwing the cap back on and giving it back.
“Damn Sarah, that tastes great!” Johnny continued as he worked on a few orders of food.
“That’s what you said about my pussy,” she retorted, her first public acknowledgement of the rumors of their sexual relationship.
Johnny nearly choked and turned bright red as he was taking another sip of his drink.
“Sarah, really?” Johnny asked.
She narrowed her eyes at him, “And who’s dumb ass roommate couldn’t keep his mouth shut?” she growled.
“Dude, not my fault Charlie’s no good at keeping secrets!” he added, hoping she would just drop it. Thankfully another ticket came in to break up the stand-off
“Ten top, thanks for the warning,” she shouted as she read the top of the ticket, “Order in, two house salads, two crab cakes, three duck salads, one arugula, one squid, one risotto.”
“Yes Chef,” came the chorus as everyone scurried around to make this order.
The rest of the night went well. The last ticket for the night went out, a slice of Cider Pecan Pie. Chris was cleaning up his station and looked around for Sarah but couldn’t find her. He peeked his head into the walk-in, checked the office and the dish area with no luck. Chris walked down the hall towards the dry-storage area. Before he rounded the corner to enter the room he heard Sarah’s voice. She sounded angry so he turned to walk away, not wanting to bother her.
“You think you’re funny don’t you Johnny?” he heard her ask gruffly.
“No ma’am,” Johnny replied, sounding very meek. Chris’ curiosity was piqued. He turned back and hid just inside the doorway, invisible due to the boxes and cans on the shelf. When he looked toward his boss he saw her pint-sized body pressed close to Johnny’s tall frame. Her back was to him and he could see Johnny’s hands were clutching at the rack behind him, eyes closed and his head tilted back. Trying to figure out what was going on, Chris finally took notice of Sarah’s hand clutching Johnny’s crotch
“You can have all your little jokes on the line, but remember that these…” she said, emphasizing that last word by giving his privates a harsh squeeze, “…belong to me!”
Johnny moaned loudly, “Yes Sarah, I’m sorry.”
“What did you call me?” she asked harshly, constricting her hand on his genitals again.
“I meant ‘Mistress’, I’m sorry!” Johnny groaned, correcting himself. Chris couldn’t tell if he was in pain or if he was loving it.
“You love this don’t you, you slut!” she asked, a tone of revulsion in her voice. All Johnny could do was whimper and nod. “Say it!”
“I love it when you discipline me!” he uttered. Sarah, satisfied with Johnny’s response grabbed a fistful of hair on the back of his head and pulled him down and gave him a fierce, soul-stealing kiss. Her hand turned from squeezing the front of his pants to caressing and Johnny’s whole demeanor softened. He wrapped his arms around her lovingly and held her close as they kissed.
Sarah broke the kiss, “Let’s get back to the kitchen before someone notices we’re gone,” she said.
Chris took that as his cue to sprint down the hall to avoid being found out. He ducked into the employee bathroom and locked the door to hide out and catch his breath for a second. ‘I have to tell Mark that our suspicions were true,’ he thought to himself. After further consideration he came to the conclusion that was a horrible idea. ‘She was torturing Johnny for his roommate ratting the two of them out. I don’t want to be on the receiving end of that torment,’ he supposed but his dick told his true feelings. He was half-hard thinking about that petite woman controlling him.
Chris tucked his dick into the waist band of his underwear to hide his erection and headed back to the kitchen. He saw Sarah and Johnny cleaning up as if they hadn’t just made out in the dry storage area. Trying to walk as casually as possible with a hard-on he approached her and asked if he could leave. She nodded and thanked him and told him he had done well. He beamed with pride as he walked to his car and drove home.
Sitting in his own driveway he texted Leslie, ‘Hey, what r u up to tonite? Want to go see a movie or something?’ He pressed ‘Send’ and headed inside to await her response. He stripped out of his dirty clothes and threw them in the laundry basket. Flopping down onto his bed he pulled his laptop up and checked his email and Facebook. He saw a post from Leslie that read, “Out having girl’s night with Scarlett!” He grumbled and resigned himself to an early night. Walking out into the hall in his boxers he headed to the kitchen to grab himself a box of cereal, a spoon and a full bowl milk and made the journey back to his room. He flicked on his TV and tuned to No Reservations with Anthony Bourdain and munched away as Anthony trekked through Thailand, shopping at an outdoor market and eating at various food stalls. After he finished his cereal he folded down the bag and closed the flaps on the box. Chris drank the milk from the bowl and placed both on his night stand. He turned off his light and cocooned himself in his blankets. Closing his eyes he began to drift off to sleep.
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