Her First Bite

Four | Tiramisu Cake

My vagina had a mind of its own.

Literally. Always chose the wrong time to show it's excitement. Wrong place, wrong time, wrong everything.

This week was an example that. This week was torture. Actually, let me not say the whole week. To be more specific, yesterday was tortious. In class. And I knew the reason. It was because of that stupid compliment. Vance's compliment that came out when he swallowed down my creation whole. My brownie creation that is. Luis did knock down the tray that was stationed on my kitchen counter but I had two others creations still sitting nice on the stove. After Luis' mess was cleaned up, I rewarded myself with one of the brownies. The second one was begging me to eat it too but I already ran up my sweets points that week, so I knew I needed to get rid of it quick and fast. Everyone already had their taste so I offered it to Vance. Secretly though, I was taunting him. I didn't think he was going to take it and actually like it. His face was blank as he finished it up, so I couldn't quite pin if he had liked it yet. But then a second later I heard it-

The compliment.

And yeah I freaked the fuck out. Internally though. My mouth was open in an O shape, while there was a 4th of July party going off in my head. Fireworks and all. And I wasn't just freaking out because a hot guy complimented me. I freaked out because Vance Lawson complimented me. Vance Lawson the amazing chef who cooked for celebrities, politicians and at big 5-star restaurants. That chef complimented me.

The compliment was still stuck and fresh in my mind during class yesterday too. And my vagina was showing me how much that compliment affected me. Also to add: without my permission. Without my permission, a thrill zapped through me when his eyes connect to mine as he walked into the room. Without me permission, that zap turned into a lighting strike that aimed right down to my area, as he yelled out an instruction to the class a second later. Then again without my permission, said lighting strike turned into a full on thunderstorm of arousal as he came in close, right against my ear, and informed me of how much of a good job I did today.

Two compliments from Vance in a week? It was unheard of.

When he walked away to check other people's work, I was still in the state of shock and in a state of horniness - a horate. A word I made up that perfectly described how I felt.

Down girl. I thought as time went on later and I was still in that state- of horate. But of course like an untrained dog, she didn't listen. My vagina had a mind of her own. I felt like I needed to put it on an imaginary leash or something so it wouldn't come out barking or saying some shit like, 'Vance please insert inside me'. Not that vagina's bark or talk but I had a sick sense that if mine did, it would be repeating a same phrase over and over again: Vance. Need fuck. Now.

Why did I imagine mine talking like a caveman?

Whatever. That was a conversion for another day. Another day when I am not in a classroom, on a Friday, alone with said Chef. An other day when my vagina is calm and when my breathing is not erratic. Another day when Vance is not five fucking centimeters away from me whisking a cake filling.

"Can you melt the colocate or are you just going to keep staring at the fucking wall?" Vance's polite question brought me out from my thoughts.

Isn't someone a nice instructor?

"Sorry chef. On it." And dammit, my voice sounded shaky. That was the effect he had on me- even one sentence made my pulse go wonky.

My journey to the microwave and back to the counter was going to be a quick one. I only had to put the chocolate in the microwave for five minutes so I used that time to give myself a little pep talk. Cue the sports whistle: River you need to calm the fuck down and keep your sexual urges in check. Microwave timer went off. And break.