BENNY
"It's called Comte. And whilst it's not dissimilar to the Swiss Gruyere, I personally prefer the nuttier taste. May I suggest you also try some Italian Taleggio, Sir? And we can't forget the Stinking Bishop now, can we."
I place the cuts onto a small board. Along with some crackers, semi-dried Turkish figs, quince paste and a cheese knife. The pony-tailed gentleman wandered off with a look of pure bliss on his face.
'Have the same on my own, no doubt' I thought happily, before turning back and straightening the cloth covering the table.
Cheese is probably my most favorite food in the whole wide world. I love introducing people to varieties they would never have dared to try before. Demystifying it, I guess you could say?
Well, it's time to get myself back to the kitchen and rally the brigade. The event organisers want to do a public thank you to all the chefs and servers in a little while.
And why not? They more than deserve it. From what I can see, guests and staff are very happy little campers indeed.
Got myself a little distracted when a lock of hair slid out from underneath my cap. Stopping for a moment, I quickly tuck it back in. I'll secure it properly as soon as I get to the staff change rooms.
My next step forward....proved to be my final undoing.
Because it took me straight into the path of Mr Touchy Feely. Or rather....the groping hands belonging to Mr Touchy Feely!
And he's now perfecting his letch technique not on my bum but on my boobs. Those fingers are now giving them an almost imperceptible yet caressing squeeze. And they're certainly not in any great hurry to let go either.
If anything, they're almost cupp....
Everything happened so fast? That my head spins whenever I try to recollect what followed. Let alone try to explain it now.
My lungs dragged in a deep breath. Pulling my arm back, it catapulted forward again with all the energy I could muster. The bones in my fist groaned at the impact, yet it's a satisfied groan.
Good!
If it hurt me? Then it sure as fuck would've hurt that creepy crawly on two legs!
He folded faster than Superman in a laundrette on wash day. Dropping to the floor but unfortunately, not out for the count as yet.
Touching his cheek gingerly and wriggling his jaw from side to side, his glance up at me was almost....admiring?
"Just another accident, honest! But it sure as hell was worth the price I paid" He winked.
At the same time, he locked his eyeballs on my heaving chest. Licked his lips before starting up that fucking, spellbinding smile again.
WHAT THE....?
Turning slightly, I picked up a huge silver tureen. Still full of fresh thick cream. Started pouring it over his grinning, smirking head.
But before I could brain him with the empty container? A pair of strong arms wrapped their way around my waist. Picked me up and hauled me out of the ballroom.
With me kicking, wriggling and yelling all the way.
"LEMME AT HIM! I'M GONNA FRICASEE HIS BALLS IN...."
"Simma down, slut!" I think it was Bruno....not too sure?
Whoever it was, they were pissing themselves laughing. And everything from that point on became kinda hazy.
YOU ARE READING
Cooking Up A Storm - A Norman Reedus Fanfic Romance
FanfictionSemi-mature. Completed. If you can't stand the heat? Then stay out of the kitchen! Norman just can't bring himself to heed that advice. When he and Greg hire a new chef for their restaurant. He already knows that Albany is more Flambé than Soufflé...
