Where's the Sauce?(Lesbian Story) Completed

Pasta a la Norma

Troian

"Mmm potatoes" There's a light smack on her arm from her favorite coworker/best friend, Sasha. Troian looks up from the food blog she is perusing and eyes her incredulously.

Pay attention. She mouths and nods her head toward their boss William, who has been talking for thirty minutes straight about absolutely nothing. Troian shrugs and gestures toward the picture of food on her phone.

"I'm working." She whispers and Sasha giggles too loudly, getting the attention of everyone at the conference table, including William.

He glares and clears his throat, "Troian. Sasha. Something you'd like to add?"

"No, sir. Please continue thrilling us on the complicated history of neckties."  She smirks as Sasha tries to stifle her snort.

"Yes, well I suppose we should move on to the next article. Give us what your next destruction will be. And try to spark note it. Lord knows hearing people talk about food is boring." Everyone at the table sighs in relief and she rolls her eyes, subtly. He'll talk about his own boring writing for hours on end but demand three sentences from others.

"Well, I was thinking of doing a sort of...redemption piece for Trest, the restaurant I critiqued last month. I heard the owner really took it to heart and I just wanted to—" 

"No" William interrupts her and she closes her fists under the table. "Why not?" She counters through clenched teeth.

"People read your articles because they want to hear what the bitchy food critic has to say about the trash these restaurants pass off as food, not some sob redemption story about a restaurant that won't die quietly." He sneers at her and pulls out his phone. She glances around the table and everyone appears sympathetic except for her douchebag assistant Greg (Who she's seventy-five percent sure boned William to get this job.) and is smirking as he takes notes.

They sit in awkward silence waiting for Greg to acknowledge that he's in a meeting and look up from his phone. "Ah Hah! Here it is. There's a new restaurant called...." he squints at his phone.

She smiles to herself, everyone knows he needs reading glasses but he's too stuck in his midlife crisis to believe his eyes have gotten worse.

"There it is." The phone is literally two inches from his face. "New...Directions. It's got rave reviews from everyone. Go be you and knock them down a peg." He waves her off.

 She gets up from the table. She doesn't stomp away because she is not a child but she does walk with a heavier gait than usual as Greg scampers behind her.

"Now back to my tie story." She hears as she's not stomping away.

Aryen

Aryen is sitting at the bar of Jamie's restaurant drumming a beat on the counter while she and Brandon talk. It's not particularly interesting conversation so she turned down her hearing aides about ten minutes in.

"Did you see the review that that critic gave Trent's place?" Jamie asks Brandon. "No. Was it bad?"

Jamie laughs humorlessly, "It was a massacre. Trent's traffic has gone way down. He practically had a panic attack and broke down crying when I saw him the other day."

Brandon's eyes widen, "Are you serious? His place isn't that bad is it?" Jamie shrugs, "It kinda is but Trent is the governor's nephew so the critics go easy on him."

Aryen is people watching and drumming while still ignoring their conversation when she notices a pretty woman staring at her. OOO She's got natural, curly hair like mine and kind eyes. She catches her eyes and shyly inspects her drink smiling to herself. Aryen grins at her and then there are fingers snapping in front of her face.