Chef's Special Ch. 01

There were chairs set up for the audience, and at the far end of the room was the long table where the tasters and judges would sit. Just then, coming through the double doors in the back left hand corner were two men.

Bruno Mensch was known as the 'Teutonic Chef' to the Public, and as 'Attila the Hun' to those who had to work with him. He was 6'6" tall, broad-shouldered, with powerful arms and legs; he was as fanatical about his physical workouts as he was about his culinary standards. His hair was blonde, and it was naturally that color. His handsome face looked as if it were chiseled out of stone.

The other man was Hercule Le Fleur, who would be acting as the host of the tastings as well as the coordinator of the competitions. He was short, slender, thinning black hair on his egg-shaped head, his face and all but hidden behind his handlebar mustaches that would rival Chief Griswold's facial shrubbery. He spoke with a light, whispery, weak voice with a French accent. He and Bruno could not be more opposite, physically.

The best part of Le Fleur's job is that he got to taste all the offerings of the contestants. The worst part... was that he was the front line object of Bruno Mensch's displeasure if anything wasn't perfect. And things were never perfect...

"I'm telling you, Hercule," said Mensch, his voice strong and demanding,"we have got to clear these hallways so that the chefs can wheel out their dishes on a big tray. Right now they're literally having to bring things one at a time. It looks ba-ad."

"I am working with the Hotel Staff to have the passages cleared." said Le Fleur.

"Well, they're not responding quickly enough." said Mensch. "We have to--- oh, hello." He had just observed Tanya and Phyllis coming up, and if there was one thing Bruno Mensch liked to observe, it was attractive women.

"Chef Mensch," said Vanessa Brunson, "this is Captain Perlman and Detective Troy, who are checking on security arrangements." Vanessa had indicated which was which with her hand as she introduced them; otherwise, the incorrect assumption that the older woman was the Captain might have been made.

"Ah!' said Mensch, turning on the charm as he took their hands into his in a flirtatious handshake. "I had no idea the Police here were so lovely!"

"You're too kind, Chef Mensch." said Tanya. "It's an honor to meet you."

"Thank you." said Mensch. "Hercule, please go and try go get everyone moving. The tasting begins at noon." Le Fleur hustled off, eager to be out of Mensch's way.

"As you can see," said Mensch, "this is the main room. We'll have much stronger lighting for the television cameras tomorrow. So, I'll take you to the kitchens. Unfortunately, Captain Perlman, while anything at all is cooking, you can only observe from the edges. No matter how fast that wheelchair can go, there is no way you could move out of the way in time if something boiling were to spill over onto you."

"I understand." said Tanya. "And if you'd be kind enough to introduce us to all the people, so we know who they are, I'd appreciate it."

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

The two Detectives could not tell if it was organized chaos... or just chaos. Chefs and sous-chefs were flying around, commands and counter-commands were being yelled. But when Chef Mensch appeared, it suddenly became dead silent, but for the sound of liquids boiling on the stovetops.

"Everyone," said the Teutonic Chef, "this is Captain Perlman and Detective Troy. They will be working with Security, and will be observing us. Everyone carry on." The chefs got back to work.

"Chef Spencer!" called out Mensch. "Would you come here, please?" he said with a courteousness that did not fool Phyllis.

"Yes, Chef?" A woman dressed in black pants and a white chef's jacket came up. She was medium height, slender, almost frail and waifish-looking, with relatively dark hair styled fairly short. Her brown eyes seemed empty. She looked to be in her mid-40s.

"Since you are going last in the tasting," said Chef Mensch, "would you tell these ladies who your colleagues are, and what we are doing here? I have to go light a fire under Le Fleur's Frog ass. That man moves like pond water." Phyllis had to stifle a laugh; her son Don often used the 'pond water' analogy. Mensch was already moving to the door and out.

"Ladies, my name is Celeste Spencer." said Chef Spencer. "Today's contest is a private one for media food critics and other top name chefs in the area, mostly from the City. Tomorrow will be the contest for the television program."

Celeste continued: "On the back row are the Gordons. Chef Alton Gordon's station is on the left, and his wife, Chef Deborah Layne Gordon is on the right."

"Didn't he win the first week's contest?" asked Tanya. "And she, the second?"

"Oh, is it not obvious, Captain?" said Phyllis.

"What do you mean?" asked Celeste.

"I would say the grande finale show will be these same chefs we're seeing now." said Phyllis. "Is that not right, Chef Spencer?"

Celeste nodded. "Yes. It's pretty much rigged. Each of us 'compete' against four local chefs in the city we're filming in. Then the winners of the previous five contests meet in the grande finale, to become Chef Mensch's apprentice. The four locals get publicity, we get television programs, and one of us really will be Chef Mensch's main assistant, which could be worth a lot for our futures."

Celeste continued: "Next week's show was filmed in the City, and I was the winner of that one. All five of us have won; the shows are in the can and just awaiting airing. We were going to film the finale in Los Angeles this week, but with the Blacks rioting all over the place, we decided to wait. We were able to get this location and film an extra session. We'll go to L.A. after everything calms down a bit out there."

Tanya nodded. "I see. And that's why today's tasting is closed to the Public. So they don't see the five grande finale contestants already all together."

"Yes." said Celeste as Tanya studied the Gordons. Alton Gordon was medium height and build and wore standard black-rimmed glasses. His wife Deborah had a mane of thick, gently curling blonde hair. She was as tall as her husband if not taller, and was beautiful. Her body was hourglass-shaped, with a big bubble ass and large breasts. And she was pregnant; that was beginning to show.

Husband and wife were bickering at each other as they cooked and their sous-chefs often bumped into each other.

"On the next row, my station is to the right." said Celeste. "On the left side is René Descartes. He's French, and his cooking style is French-Asian Fusion. He isn't going to win, because Chef Mensch is German-Asian Fusion, and their rivalry goes beyond French-German nationalities. But the other four of us have a chance... at least we think we do."

René Descartes was surprisingly young looking for a man who already had an international reputation as a chef. His hair was black and wavy, and he had piercing eyes and a silver-smooth tongue, which was enhanced by his French accent. He'd made sure to smile flirtatiously at both women as often as he could.

"And on the front row, here," said Celeste, "is Lauren Fogle." Chef Fogle was also young, in her late twenties, had light brown hair, and was very beautiful; photogenic, with a warm smile and sparkling eyes that were perfect for television. She was a rising star as an Italian and Mediterranean chef, as well.

"Everyone knows Lauren's story." said Celeste. "Recovering alcoholic. She was a binge-drinker in college days, almost died one night, but managed to get clean, and is now going to win this whole frickin' shebang, if I don't miss my guess."

"Ah, has that been pre-determined, also?" asked Phyllis.

"Officially... no." said Celeste. "I don't give much for my chances, but Deborah still has a good shot at it. But there are whispers that it's Lauren's to lose."

"And they don't sabotage each other's food?" asked Tanya.

"Oh, no." said Celeste. "We've been thrown together by this show for months now. I'm not saying we're all good friends, but we have a healthy respect for each other. Oh... if you'll excuse me, my station needs me." Chef Spencer went back to her station, where her sous-chef was gesticulating as he said something.

"They don't seem all that friendly with each other, do they?" asked Tanya.

"Oh my heavens, no." said Phyllis. "Some of it may be the tension before the contest, but there is no love lost between some of these people." Indeed, Alton Gordon and Lauren Fogle were arguing over a spice bottle as each had tried to grab it off the shelf at the same time. Meanwhile, Deborah Gordon was tasting one of René Descartes's sauce dishes, and made a face, saying it was too salty for her, which got René saying a few curse words in French.

"Why don't we step back into the front room?" asked Phyllis. "This kitchen is very warm, is it not?"

"Sure." said Tanya. But just as they were about to go, Chef Celeste Spencer came back up to them.

"I don't mean to be intrusive," said Celeste, "but are you the policewoman who lost the use of her legs saving her son's life?"

"Er... yes, I am." said Tanya, her eyes sparkling with emotion.

"Oh, I'm sorry if I've brought up a bad memory." said Celeste. "But please tell me: how is your son doing?"

"Oh, he's doing well. He's really great!" Tanya said, her face becoming much brighter as she spoke of little Pete.

"That's so wonderful." said Celeste. And... Troy... I thought I read that he was a man."

"Oh, that's a different 'Troy'." said Phyllis. "Entirely coincidental names."

"Yes, Detective Troy here is a State Agent, like myself." said Tanya. "By the way, how did you know of my story?"

"My home is in the City." said Celeste. "And I remember hearing the story on the news. Your story was... tragic, but inspiring at the same time. I was so happy for you when I heard your son had survived."

"You're very kind to remember." said Tanya. Chef Spencer excused herself and went back to cooking.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

"Ohhhhh..." the woman moaned as she was penetrated by the large cock as she lay back onto the table. "Oh, that's so fucking good..."

"Yes, you love my cock." whispered Bruno Mensch, as he slid his seven inches of throbbing hard cock into Vanessa Brunson's tight, sopping wet pussy.

"Oh yes, I do love your big Teutonic cock, Bruno!" Vanessa said, stoking Bruno's insatiable ego, which was matched only by his appetite for sex. He always got hot and horny when he was about to begin filming a show or go on stag, and Vanessa happily was there to spread her legs and sheath every inch of his hard male meat into the depths of her well-used womanhood.

As Bruno pumped Vanessa, easing her ankles over his shoulders, he said "Why are those two police officers here?"

"I think they're just here to meet you, Bruno." said Vanessa. "I think they want your cock as much as I do."

"I will fuck them both until they are whimpering, and begging me for more." said Bruno, the thought of fucking the woman making him drive his meat into Vanessa with harder, shorter strokes. "I will make them come like they have never come before."

"Why don't you do the same for me, baby?" suggested Vanessa. "We're getting close to stage time..."

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

"Well, hello ladies!" said the voice of NCPD Lieutenant Molly Ross Evans as she came up to Phyllis and Tanya.

"Well, hello, Lieutenant Evans." said Phyllis with some emphasis. Molly caught on.

"It's so nice to see you again, Detective Troy." Molly said, being formal with the grandmother of her sons. "And congratulations on your promotion, Captain Perlman."

"Thank you." said Tanya. "And this must be Detective German, who I've heard great things about."

"Yes. It's an honor to meet both of you." said Detective German.

"So, are you Security, or watching the event?" asked Molly.

"Both." said Tanya...

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Hercule Le Fleur looked nervous and harassed as he stood before the tasting table and faced the relatively small audience in front of him.

"Thank you for coming." he said. "Today we are privileged to have five rising stars in the culinary world competing in a prequel to tomorrow's main event. First, allow me to introduce our judges. First, the host of these events, the international celebrity known as the Teutonic Chef... Chef Bruno Mensch!"

Chef Mensch came out, looking tall and blonde and handsome, smiling and waving to the claps and cheers of the audience. "Closest thing I've seen to the Iron Crowbar." whispered Tanya to Phyllis as they watched from the side of the audience. Phyllis smiled and nodded.

"Next," said Le Fleur, "the very popular and renowned food reporter from our host network, Ms. Vanessa Brunson!" Vanessa came out with a beautiful smile, waving at the audience before coming to stand beside Mensch, who towered over her due to their height differences.

"Our third judge, who will also be judging with us tomorrow," said Le Fleur, "was a Home Economics teacher for over thirty years, and is a Trustee of the nearby great University. Please welcome Mrs. Myrtle L. James." The local audience knew who Myrtle L. James was, and everyone else clapped to be polite as the elderly woman trotted out.

"And your last judge is myself, Hercule Le Fleur. So, let's begin!" The audience applauded as the judges took their seats.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

"First up is Lauren Fogle!" said the television producer. "Let's go!"

As Lauren barked orders and began moving out, she collided with one of the other chefs. "Ouch!" she cried out as she saw the fork in the hand of the profusely apologizing chef, which had apparently stabbed her. "Get out of my wa-ay!"

She hustled out as the staff brought out the plates of her food preparations to the judges. Standing at the end of the table, she was introduced by Hercule Le Fleur at the other end of the table, then began speaking as they tasted.

"What I have prepared for you today is an appetizer of spicy chicken fingers in a sweet orange sauce, a perfect combination to wake up your taste buds for the rest of the meal. The spices are... are..."

Lauren staggered and reached down to use the edge of the table to steady herself. "...are... are.. oh God..." she gasped, then collapsed to the floor.

As others rushed up, they heard the words "Police Officer! Step back, please... step back!" It was Lt. Molly Evans, who was just ahead of Phyllis Troy. They reached the prostrate woman, who was lying on her back with her eyes staring sightlessly upward.

Molly checked for a pulse and breathing as Phyllis knelt on Lauren's other side. A defibrillator was brought in as Detective German came up and attempted CPR. Molly applied the defibrillator.

Their efforts were ineffective. After what seemed an eternity, but was three minutes, Phyllis stopped them. "It's no use." she said quietly.

"You're right." said Molly. "She's dead."

To be continued.