"Yes chef. Oh yes Chef. Fuck me hard! Right there!"
Okay so. . .I cringed.
This was just one reason in thousand to why I didn't watch shitty-ass porn hub. I was more of a home-made video type of gal anyway. Literally, each video I searched needed to have home-made in the title. It made it seem, I'll say- realer; because the acting that was showing on my screen right now? It was horr-en-dous.
Porn hub acting was always terrible. And when I say terrible, I mean Quentin Tarantino level-acting terrible. I couldn't believe my eyes when I first saw him pop up in Django Unchanged. It was the first time I ever saw him act, and to put it nicely; it was bad. He was an amazing director no doubt but when he stepped over the directing line and crossed into acting, it was a big no for me.
Hell even I was better.
I truly believed that I was a better actor than the two people that were stuck in my lightly lit phone screen that were quote on quote: fucking. Plus Tarantino. I remember a time back in high school when my amazing acting skills paid off. It was around prom time and my mom wanted me to wear the exact same dress she had on when she went to prom. It was, to put it nicely; the ugliest thing I ever saw in my life. But my amazing acting skills came right into play and I plastered a smile on my face; acting like I was eager to wear it.
My parents did a lot for me during my nagging adolescent teen years and I felt like I owed them for it. And not to brag but- they were incredible. Their contact names were of course saved as favorites in my phone. Their names were in a special font accompanied by three heart emojis. They were my favorite people in the world. My go-tos for my issues. My go-tos for most of the problems in my life. So, yeah I sacrificed my original edgy prom dress and slapped the ugly one right on without any complaints.
I'm that type of daughter.
A good daughter. A good child. Just kidding. I was an okay child. I knew what a good child looked like- I was far from it.
A good 'child' wouldn't be watching this terrible-acting porn, and if I might add- without headphones in, while her friend was one door away. A good child wouldn't be fantasying about said friend's, who was one door away, brother either. A good child wouldn't have picked the chef category at all, knowing the circumstances. And the best child of all wouldn't be constantly daydreaming of fucking said friend's brother: a chef.
So yeah. I was an okay child.
The terrible actress moaned again loudly and it brought me out from my thoughts. "Chef stick the wooden spoon all the way up my-"
I closed the tab so fast, oh so fast. Faster than Lighting McQueen himself. I made a mental note to remind myself that I needed to buy earphones. I didn't want what happened last time - when a strange noise came from my room - to repeat. Erin, my roommate with the hot older brother, never needed to bust through my door again, scare the living shit out of me, and cause me to drop my phone. And this time she defiantly didn't want to get a glimpse of what I was watching. Or my search history.
God, my search history looked like an overly horny 14-year old child's one that had a slight thing for chefs. It read: Chef fucking student. Chef fucking other chef. Chef just fucking.
I was not proud.
I was also not proud of myself for having these thoughts about my roommate's brother. I doubt she would care, but in my mind, I saw it as a problem. I wanted to build a wall. Add distance the the situation. But lucky for me, that was not possible. Distance wasn't possible. I got the pleasure of seeing him once a week- in class. My roommate's brother was my teacher: Vance Lawson. Well in class, he's chef. Chef Lawson. Chef hard-ass. Chef asshole. And chef brown eyes. I mean- uh hard eyes.
My mind was confused at the moment. No I lied, it was always confused when it came to Vance. Vance always found a way to sneak into my mind. Vance even made my mind change it's favorite day.
My favorite day was always Fridays. I mean who didn't like Fridays? My Fridays consisted of me sleeping pass my alarm - I had no school on Fridays. It also consisted of me dropping by my parents house. We were either watching movies, or I was showing my mom what new desert we made this week in class. It didn't matter what we were doing, Fridays were always the days I looked forward to.
But lately, I found myself looking forward to Thursdays. Thursdays turned into my Fridays: My favorite day. The day I looked forward to.
On those days, I found myself coming in extra early to school too. Vance only taught Thursdays and I knew Vance would be there early too. In the main kitchen. Sitting down in the same, dark left corner, chair. Drinking the same coffee. Every Thursday - at the crack of dawn. It felt like he was taunting me for some unknown reason. He showed and did the same routine every morning. Alone. When we ended up being the only two in the kitchen - which happened a lot - it always felt like he was daring me to do something. Daring me to come closer. Daring me to mess up his rhythm. His routine. His law and order. His rules.
Maybe one day I will.
If the looks continued.
Vance had a total of three looks. Well, three that he showed. And I knew them all. One was the good ole' don't talk to me look. The I'm not friendly look. He usually sported this look when he was in the company of other people. Such a charming guy.
The second look was the I'm in charge teacher look. It was the do as I say with no questions asked look. The listen to me or I'll spank your ass hard look. Okay - I will admit, that looked turned me the fuck on.
My first memory of the look was during day two of classes - he was teaching us how to make lemon meringue pie. He was stopping by everyones station and critiquing our work. When he got to me, I felt his body heat - it warmed me and sent my heart into haywire. 'This taste like shit.' His rude tone didn't change the pace of my heart. It may have increased. 'How many eggs did you add?' I said two. Then he nicely informed me that I needed to get my head out of my ass. 'I said four eggs. Next time listen or I'll. . . ' And that's when I saw the look. He didn't need to say the 'or' because I already knew what he was going to say before he cut himself off.
I saw the inviting warning. Taunting me. It was as tempting as a big red button with the words 'don't press it' on it. It just made you want to do the opposite of what is says and press on it. His next words settled down my beating heart and I mentally moved far away from the big red button. I was not going to touch it. 'Or you'll stay after class and have to bake it all over again.'
The final look was the look he showed only when he thought I wasn't paying attention. Well, calling it a look was stretching it. It was more of these glances. These secret glances. Like he was working a top secret mission. Cue the walkie talkie: 'Yes sir Mr. Lawson your mission is to quickly look down at River's legs when she's turned around. You earn extra points if you see her nipples get hard.' And they did. Every time. But he wasn't the only one who was guilty of these secret glances. I had my fair share of them.
Some nights when I'm in bed, struggling to sleep, I imagine those glances turning into stares. . .staring down at me while he uses his arms to pin me down to my bed. He would say, 'Do you remember the recipe on how to make an amaretto cheesecake?' I would squeak out a yes. 'Repeat it back to me while I bury myself deep inside you. One wrong ingredient or step earns one hard slap to your ass.'
Shit. My imagination always got the best of me.
Like right now.
My mind always got me higher than any video on porn hub could ever. I didn't even know why I went to the site in the first place. I lied again, I did know. I wanted to role-play. I wanted to immerse myself in that role -the role of me fucking a chef. I wanted to imagine myself fucking Vance. I wanted to pretend we were the ones fucking - that the video was us. Only difference was that our moans would be real. We wouldn't have to fake the chemistry. We wouldn't have to fake the orgasms. We wouldn't fake anything. I wanted him to smack that big wooden spoon on my-
Wait.
There it was again - my imagination getting the better of me.
Usually when it did get the best of me - which was frequent - I did one of two things. Number one was: Call up my parents. They were always good at distracting me. I would ask them about some distance family member or in most cases; my mother would tell me about her day. She called them 'adventures'. My dad's and I view of adventures was different from her view. An example of our view was skydiving. An example of my mom's view was seeing a cat cross the street.
Number two was: Cook. If I was being honest, I had a quite interesting relationship with cooking. I cook when I'm sad. I cook when I'm mad. I cook when I'm annoyed. Hell, I cook when I'm horny. Cooking was my bible. All of the recipes I collected over the years were my tellings. My stories. If I had to pick what would be my Genesis chapter - recipe one - I would pick brownies.
My specialty.
Brownies were the first food I ever made. My grandma taught me how to make them on my tenth birthday. At a young age, I was obsessed with food and all things about food. So of course I wanted to know how to cook. I was eager about it. And my wish came true when I turned ten. My parents told me that I would now be able to touch and make stuff using the stove and/or oven. The real food.
And 14 years later, I was still doing the exact same thing. But, unlike others, I made it my profession. Cooking was my life now and I loved it.
Thought I was only in school to gawk at my roommates brother? Well drown that thought because its wrong. I was in school to better my work. To better my cooking. To better myself. And if it so happens that my roommates older brother was a teacher there - I wasn't going to let it phase me.
I wasn't going to worry myself about the it.
Oh how I wish I was telling the truth.
***
I was very eager to write the first chapter of this book so I spent all of today writing it. Idk. I woke up ready to write.
I'm excited for this story!
How did you like it? And thank you for reading!