The Private Chef Pt. 01

The Private Chef (Part 1)

I enjoyed cooking. It was a passion of mine from a young age. Never thought of myself as a chef. My friend Marnie worked in event planning and constantly pushed me to start a company, but I enjoyed doing my own thing. Posting pictures and videos online of my meals was the creative outlet I needed.

Marnie asked if I'd be willing to do a private job. I had no idea what she meant, but I trusted her and told her to send the client my info. I had never done anything like this before, but how hard could it be? I'll still be cooking, but just bigger meals I'm guessing. I overthought and soon regretted giving Marnie the go-ahead to send my number out. But what's done is done, and now I must wait. I encouraged myself that I would be able to still make my videos and post on Instagram, which made me relieved. Marnie assured me they paid very well and would be over the moon with my creativity.

When I got the call, I knew it was 'the' call because I didn't have the number saved. My heart skipped a beat as I answered it. This man's voice was deep. I couldn't help but imagine he had dark curly hair that sat right above his eyebrow. My mind wandered, hoping he was as cute as my imagination was making him. He asked me all the questions someone who hires a private chef asks. He was friendly and seemed charismatic. I caught myself smiling as I looked in the mirror across from where I was sitting. He gave me all the necessary information, so I felt a little unprepared when I didn't have any questions. It was 6 people in the Hampton's for the summer. Sounds easy and straightforward. I would stay in the house with them and prepare three meals daily and any requested snacks. I would oversee the grocery shopping and tend to the garden. It seemed like the perfect job, so what was the catch?

I took the train and then a bus from the city. I didn't mind because it gave me all the time to organize the meals I wanted to prepare. I couldn't believe I was going to be a private chef. Finally getting to the house, I walked up the front steps with my suitcase on my right and a large tote bag on my left shoulder. I rang the doorbell, and a lovely older woman answered a few moments later. She welcomed me with a smile and introduced herself as the house manager. Her name was Stella, and she'd worked for the Walters for decades. She showed me to my room and left me to get settled. It was around 9 in the morning, so I didn't want to waste much time because I knew lunch and dinner needed to be prepared.

I found the kitchen and looked at all the equipment. I had everything I could ever want. Opening the fridge were beautiful rows of soda cans with their logos all facing the front. Vegetables and fruits are stored ideally. I was in awe for so long the fridge started beeping at me to close the door. It was one of those fridges that looked like a cabinet. I never liked those, always thought a refrigerator was needed to make a "kitchen." But I guess I was just a hater because seeing this fridge in my own presence, knowing this was the kitchen I'll be cooking in, I loved it.

Pen and paper in hand, I began making a list of the things I needed at the grocery store and farmer's market. The clients were clear about not having any allergies and wanting to try new things. They gave me a few ideas and their preferences for breakfast but ultimately gave me creative control.

•

Unloading the groceries from the car, a black truck pulls up. With two bags in my hand, it was dumb of me, not the leave the front door open. A tall, handsome man leaped out of the truck, and before I knew it, he was almost jogging toward me.

"Please, let me help with those!" He said as he took a bag from my hand without giving me the chance to answer. "I'm Anthony; you must be the chef, Marnie told me amazing things about you and your work, so I'm very excited to have you here." The eye contact he made with me was out of a movie. He knew how attractive he was but in a humble way. His eyes were smiling not his lips. I was so overtaken by the butterflies in my stomach I had a hard time coming up with words to say.

"Thank you so much; I'm happy to be here, the house is beautiful, and I love the kitchen!" After the words left my mouth, he stopped looking at me and opened the door. Sometimes I feel like I talk too much or say stupid things, and I did that here. But it was my negativity talking, and I needed to shut it down because that's ridiculous. I followed Anthony into the kitchen, where he set the bag on the counter.

"I would love to sit and get to know you more, but I have some work I need to get done, but I'm really excited about dinner tonight! Not only to see what you make but to enjoy a meal together." He gave me a warm smile as he left and walked past me. His airflow with his body walking left a scent of what I could only assume was a very expensive cologne. He smelled terrific. The kind of good that made him only more attractive. I couldn't help but get a little hot thinking about him. I was developing a slight crush on my client.

For lunch, I made sandwiches and prepared fruit. Stella said lunch should always be simple and something that can be kept in the fridge for the various clients to grab quickly between their activities and work. Dinner, on the other hand, was to be a bit more tedious and where they really wanted to enjoy themselves and the food they were eating. Stella mentioned having multiple courses was important. I started on dinner shortly after I made lunch.

•

After dinner, Stella told me not to worry about cleaning things up and said that Mark would be doing that. It felt odd, but honestly, I wasn't going to argue with her. I didn't want to clean anything up, and the sexual tension between Anthony and me at dinner was intense. We didn't talk at all but listened to everyone else share stories about their day and the various annoyances they had to deal with. After a few glasses of wine, I was tired and ready to crawl into bed. The crush I was developing on Anthony in my mind was one-sided. I assumed he had a girlfriend or two back in the city, but I did allow myself to enjoy the thoughts I was having.

Finally, in bed, I felt the desire to cum. I had worked myself up so much with my thoughts that having an orgasm was precisely what I needed to end my night. I slipped my hand down my pajama shorts and felt how wet I was already. Closing my eyes, I imagined the smell of Anthony. Lusting over the thought of him getting out of the shower and wrapping a fresh towel around his waist. His skin still dripping with water. His hair so wet drops caught onto his shoulders and rolled down his back. I imagined him drying off and, in the process, seeing the muscles on his back move in ways that made them more defined. I pictured Anthony with a thick, soft cock. I begged my mind to tell me what he would look like hard, but it skipped that part. I wanted him to slowly move onto the bed and peel my legs apart. I wanted him to hold me down with his veiny hands and kiss the inside of my thighs. I craved him teasing me. I imagined him moving my shorts to the side, placing his tongue at the bottom of my opening, and licking his way up to my clit. I wanted him to make me cum with his tongue on my clit and two fingers fucking me. I could feel myself getting close. The room suddenly seemed warmer, and I could feel that my cheeks were hot. My fingers were slipping around my clit with ease. I can't remember the last time I had been so wet.

I was close to cumming. Grinding my hips in rhythm with my hand working around my clit when I heard a knock on my door...

To be continued