Confused

Fin. Confused

Lately, our relationship.
Makes me confused.
Blaire and I.
What are we, really?

"Jesse why is your restaurant serving seafood thermidor as a highlight dish this week as well? Didn't I tell you that we are promoting a seafood week too?" Blaire asked me.

I hugged her from behind and said "Sorry babe. I got inspired by you. So I also adapted the idea for our resto."

She pushed my arms off and walked away annoyed then said "You know what. I'll never share our resto's ideas to you ever again."

"Which is the city's most sought-after fine-dining restaurant?" Blaire asked.

"I guess, it would be ours. Andy's built the restaurant's name for years now. I'm proud to say that it's truly still the best and a staple go-to place. When you say high end fine dining, you already think of our resto." I answered as I wash some dishes.

"I guess, you're right. However, it's not just your restaurant now. It says here too." Blaire says and I immediately turned around to walk over to her.

I mean, that can't be. We are number one. We've always been the top. If it comes to a point that we aren't, I couldn't let that happen at my first year as the Chef de Cuisine. It would look bad for me.

I grabbed Blaire's tablet and read the article and it says: Two restaurants top the highly regarded and must try places for fine dining in the city. Now which of the two would you choose? Long-established traditional cuisine versus modern avant garde gastronomy?

I looked at her and she smirked at me mockingly. It annoyed me for some reason. Her restaurant. They are being regarded as an equal to ours?

F*cking annoying.
She learned from her experience with our restaurant.
Shouldn't she be a little thankful at least?
Why does it seem like she's eager to compete with us, then?

So I said, "It's only natural since the Chef de Cuisine at that restaurant came from ours too. So technically, it's still our restaurant that produced the best."

"Really? Is that so?" she stood up looking unamused. Sh*t. Her disposition irks the hell out of me.

Then she continued, "The tradition of men doesn't always mean it's the best. Times are changing, Jesse. Can your restaurant keep up?"

"Origins can never be overlooked, Blaire. Just like a great wine, it's quality refines as it ages." I answered her.

"That restaurant's executive chef sure is boastful. Mr. Michelin star doesn't want to share the top spot with a new girl in town? " Blaire says.

I couldn't help but answer, "I'm not bragging nor am I greedy. I was just stating facts. Is it my fault that you were overwhelmed by the truth that you misinterpreted my intentions?"

I walked closer to her and leaned my head down to loom over her. Then I asked again, "Is it my fault that I, the head chef, have a Michelin star and not you?"

We looked at each other's eyes fiercely.
Unwavering. Piercing. But not affectionate.
We are definitely.
In competition.

It's. F*cking. On. Chef Blaire.

However...

Blaire suddenly knelt on me and pulled my pants down. The f*ck?!

She looked up to me and said, "You're really getting on my nerves. You've been running on my head a lot lately, Jesse. So I might as well give you some."

And she did give me her head. Her tongue slipping in and wrapping me up like basting my meat with her glazes. Then, she would suction me off aggressively on the double. Like she's on a lunch rush for my c*ck.