A Fine Meal

I had made the loop 3 times when I started to feel cramping in my calves -- excruciating pain that stopped me flat. In the middle of my next lap I made my way over to the bleachers, wincing from the sudden pangs. I had sat there for a few minutes unaware of my surroundings...when I focused. I realized that there were many people seated on the bleachers, attending some sort of oratory exercise, and to my embarrassment, I realized that I was sitting where the keynote speaker was, and all their attention was poised on me. I stood and limped away, like a dog being punished. Just then I heard someone's voice offer to help me: a womyn from the group which I had just left, walked up to me and offered her hand, to help me off the field. I accepted, as the pain was too great to move on my own. She was a tall statuesque womyn with long auburn hair and a smile that seemed to shine through the bleakness of the day.

Her hands were soft as she gripped my elbow. She laid her other hand on my neck. She asked me if she could get me some water, and I motioned for my duffel bag along the fence. We both sat down on the steps near where the buffalo roam. I thanked her for her help, and offered her some Gatorade that I had in the bottom of my bag. She smiled, and accepted, and once again I felt her creamy skin as her hand brushed mine when taking the bottle. She told me that she was a lawyer attending U.S.F.'s college of law, I told her my brother had attended Hastings, and we talked for awhile about the virtues of lawyers. She then asked me what I did for a living. I told her that I had been a chef for as long as I could remember, and then she asked me how old I was. That was a question that always threw me..coz like what did it matter anyway. As I talked she massaged my calf muscles, telling me she had once studied to be a physical therapist, before changing her major. I had thought to myself how perfect this meeting had become. Her name was Jane, when she stood she towered above me as I sat on the ground. She asked if we might meet again, perhaps go out to a movie and I suggested that she come by the restaurant and visit sometime and then we could go from there.

She had smiled, and again I felt like the sun came rushing through the clouds of gray. Just as I was picking up my bag and stuff to head for home, Jason, a fellow that I had run with before came up to me and asked me about Jane. I told him that I had just met her, and didn't know anything much about her. He made some comment about wanting to "boink" her, which I pretended not to hear, he had always been vulgar, and I had always wondered why he chose me to speak with. I mean, he was a great long distance runner and for no other purpose did I like him, 'cause it's always good to have a good runner to work with. It helps to build your own stamina. I had been running with Jason for about 3 years and I guess he knew that I was a dyke, coz he never hit on me or anything, but he always felt the need to make some off color remark on a daily basis. Everyone on the track didn't like him much, or that was the rumor. But I always saw many of those same people run with him, so I guess it's just what a person will put up with. I headed back to my car, threw the stuff in the back and got in, and there attached to the windshield was a rose that had been plucked from the nearby rose garden. I smelled it, the scent so beautiful that it permeated my car instantly. I looked around for Jane. Just a hunch.

Once home I jumped into the shower and just stood in the steaming hot water that fell from the faucet onto my head. I loved the way I became a human waterfall. It seemed to be washing away all the hurts, though I could feel a certain stiffness already in my legs. While in the shower, I heard the phone ringing, and chuckled at Murphy's Law; it almost always applied to me, a message from the manager where I worked requesting that I come in early for a private party. I called back and told her that I would be there shortly, just had to stop at the cleaners and pick up my jackets. I hung up the phone and looked into the mirror hanging on the wall, only to have an older womyn staring back at me. It was shameless the way I had aged. I suddenly felt so much older than my years. I know I had said that I would never get a face-lift, but now I knew why womyn did. After stopping at the cleaners and finding a parking place close to the business I headed up the street, to first pick up my daily paper -- perhaps if a break somewhere in the course of the day. A half hour or so would afford me the pleasure of doing the Times' crossword puzzle. It was my way of gaining some mental stimulation, while being surrounded by the simpleton's I worked with. Oh, I know that sounds harsh, but if you ever had the displeasure of working with this particular crew, where the highlight of any conversation always had something to do with how much coke they snorted the night before or how many times they outran the cops.

Tony was at the door when I walked in and he waved and said something in broken English mixed with his native French and I nodded politely, not knowing a word of what he said. I headed for the manager's office and knocked and then went inside. My sous chef was already there pouting in her own special way of manipulation. I blew her a kiss. When I came in and asked Sheila what was up, she told me that I had been requested to prepare for a private dinner party for a visiting dignitary. There would be only two people dining, and I was to choose a menu that best suited this priority. Sheila also told me that I was to be dressed in full masters uniform. I grumbled at the request, when Sheila told me that there was a big bonus for this particular dinner, I smiled and then left. I went to my office and started research on the epitome of excellence.

I started Polenta with a Crimini mushroom sauce, and then portobellos stuffed with gorgonzola, and then for the 3rd course, I made a spinach risotto and then a lobster bisque with pineapple and fennel, and then I prepared a breast of veal stuffed with wild rice and tomatillos and mango chutney. I chose the 1989 Korbel Blanc de Noirs followed by the 1992 Freemark Abbey Cabernet Bosche , then followed by the 1993 Sausal Zin, and then the 1995 Chalk Hill Winery's cabernet, and then finished dinner with the vintage Dows' Oporto, served with brie and fresh melons. I decorated the room in a gothic manner, replete with velvet napkins and black roses. When I was finished, I ran upstairs and took a shower. Tracy, my sous, was there in the bathroom brushing her hair when I arrived; she asked me if I needed help with tonight's bash, and I assured her that I had it all under control. I told her the special's that I wanted to be served in the dining room this evening, and that I wanted Jose to work with her, so he could learn how I wrote the boards, and how to execute them -- I stressed consistency, a word I'm sure Tracy had a problem with. I was always having to correct many things that Tracy just didn't care about. She was good in a lot of ways, but she needed to start listening more to my instruction. As I washed my hair and soaped my body, Tracy stood with the door to the shower open; watching me -- an evil smile appeared on her face. When I asked her what she was thinking she laughed, and told me that if she ever was to make it with a womyn, she wanted me. I felt flattered, then remembered that she mounted anything that moved, and thought to myself, no fucking way. Oh don't get me wrong, Tracy was fine to look at every guy that ever come into the back to compliment us, drooled over Tracy: she was 24 years old with blond hair that she kept pinned up -- her eyes were the darkest shade of blue that I had ever seen, and when she smiled, you just knew that she was indeed playing for keeps. When I got out of the shower she helped me dry off -- I didn't, mind this simple toying, flirting with her -- sometimes I even played harder just to tease her.

She threw her towel at me and sashayed out the door. I smiled, knowing full well that I had gotten to her. I dressed and looked into the mirror, somehow the masters' chef jacket made that old dyke I had seen before transform into an artist. Damn!!! I looked good. The restaurant was filling, usual for this time of night, when I went to check on the arrival of my guest for the private dining room, Shelia had come around the corner. She told me that my guest had arrived and that my Polenta had been served. I went to the kitchen to finish the veal and the risotto; I quickly made a custard with chocolate raspberry sauce and iced it. I placed crystallized violets atop the custard -- and a sprig of mint for colour. I asked Juan to be my server, and Sheila piped in that I was to be the server as well, that my guest requested my presence. What an odd request, I had thought to myself. I knocked upon the door and entered slowly, the champagne in my hands. In one of the highback chairs, situated at the table I could barely see the top of someone's head, the other chair remained empty. I had figured that the other guest had slipped away to use the restroom. I said good evening, introduced myself and, to my surprise, Jane was seated in the chair, dressed in a blue satin T strapped evening gown -- she looked so lovely -- took my breath away. She answered good evening back to me, and smiled. I asked her when her guest would be joining her and should I wait to pour the wine.

She told me that her guest had arrived and to please pour. Still assuming that the other party was somewhere in the restaurant, I told her I would wait to announce the full menu. She said it wouldn't be necessary and to continue. I said OK, and then proceeded to list the many dishes that I had prepared for them. While I spoke, she drank some wine; I watched as a tiny drop of red dripped slowly from her full gorgeous lips, and then I felt myself staring, and she was smiling. I thanked her for helping me earlier in the day and she told me it had been her pleasure. Still waiting for her party to join her, I asked her if there was anything I could get for her and she answered me telling me that if I could, please rub her neck. Now this was an unusual request and certainly none that had ever been asked of me in this profession, but since she had massaged my legs earlier in the day, I acquiesced. I felt my fingers touching her neck, at the top where her spine meets, and suddenly chills ran through me -- like none that I had ever felt. Her skin was soft, and I smelled her perfume as it entered into my life, and then I had to snap out of it -- after all I was the executive chef at a prestigious restaurant and at any minute this womyn's date was going to come through the door.

She must have felt me stiffen when she asked what was the matter. I inquired about her company, wanting to know when they would arrive so as to time the meal. She had replied once again that the party in question was already here, so I shrugged my shoulders and waited still longer. She stood up from her chair and let the straps of her dress fall off her lovely shoulders. I turned away to check the custard on the tray, on the mantle, behind the table where she stood. I heard her call my name, and when I returned my gaze I saw that she was naked, her dress on the floor at her feet. I gulped hard looking for air -- blushing at the obvious -- I stammered something about her date, and as she came towards me I heard her say that I was being silly, that I was her date, and to just relax. And then, oh my, our lips met -- long lingering kiss. I felt my hands reach for her -- touch her shoulders, and down her arms, holding her, my tongue wrestled in her mouth, raked across her teeth, tried to swallow her own. She laughed, and pulled away from me. When I realized that she and I were still in the dining room of a business where I worked, I felt uncomfortable, then suddenly I felt her hands unbuttoning my jacket, as she stood behind me, her nimble fingers working diligently to undo the cloth buttons. Then I turned to meet her, and took her into my arms and kissed her full -- no more awkwardness. I tilted her back and felt myself push into her, she opened as I slid my tongue deep into her. I heard her gasp as my tongue wrestled wildly with hers. I cupped her breast in my hand and lightly massaged the hardening nipple, and then went to the other breast. She had finally opened my jacket when I felt her hands touching my own burgeoning nipples. I pulled from her and went to the table and quickly removed the first course, placing it on the mantle behind me. Then I took her hand and led her to the table, and I placed both hands on her hips and hoisted her onto the table. I kissed her again and then got on the table myself and then moved so that I positioned myself between her legs.

She started to speak and I hushed her lips with my fingers, which she quickly sucked into her mouth between those two perfect lips. I circled my tongue along the outline of the body, stopping to suction her flesh leaving small welts that disappeared with each kiss. She brought her knees up to afford me a better view. She was so lovely -- like a painting by a master artsist. She was the beauty in all of my dreams. I just hadn't known it before. Her fingers held her lips back as she begged me to touch her. I let my mouth softly, slowly mount her clit, till I covered it with my own lips. I kissed, and licked, and sucked on her little pillar of sex. It seemed to dance in my mouth, and I felt myself gush, and then drip down my legs. My chin rested in her wet, while my tongue flicked feather like across her clit, her hips started to move in rhythmic fashion and waves started to crash inside of me. I kissed her fingers as they held back her labia, and then slowly I made my way down to where she lay open. I could see the little pillowed steps in the opening, pushing my tongue just slightly into her, and then retreating just as quick. She moaned and seemed to beg for more, and I pushed my tongue in further, and then curled it to retrieve a bubble from her. I swooned in ecstacy.

She was sweet and salty, and drenched from the workout my tongue was giving her, and I felt my ownself start to rock hard against her knees as I took turns fucking her, and flicking hard against her clit. She bucked into me and I heard her cry out, and she shook and shuddered and rain poured from her -- I drank, lapped, and poked my tongue into her more, and then slowly I ran my forefinger up along the inner path of her cunt, and slowly dipped into her. She gasped, and I continued, delving deeper into her dark sweetness. She begged for me, and slowly, I turned my body around so that my swollen begging clit faced her. teasingly I lowered myself, and then pulled away -- her fingers left her labia and she shot right into me, leaving me gasping and rocking full tilt. After several wonderful explosions, she and I sat in the dining room eating the sumptuous meal, and smiling, every now and then I would lick her face and kiss those perfect lips ... by carol marie