AllFreeNovel
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I take my frustrations out on powdered sugar, butter and vanilla. Then I add a dash of bitterness with lemon rind for my embarrassment. I turn the mixer on and let it whirl until it’s creamy and smooth.
“Don’t beat it too much. That makes it soft.” He calls to me from Paige’s table.
“From what you describe, that’s not possible. Did you lie?” He knows I’m not talking about the darn frosting. I’m
trying to get some control of this situation, and with men like Ripley, the only way to win is to play their game, and I’m no quitter, and I don’t intend to lose.”
Less than an hour later, all the cakes are frosted and sitting in a row. There’s a white cake, a chocolate cake, a carrot cake, a spice cake, and my lemon cake. Mine doesn't have handmade flowers, or a chocolate ganache frosting. It’s plain and simple like me.
We take our cakes to the front of the retail store where a table is set up for display. Then Ripley sits us down at a nearby table and feeds us a lunch of fresh baked baguettes with deli meats and cheeses.
We watch as samples are cut and customers are treated to a taste. Colored poker chips are placed in front of the cakes and tasters are asked to choose their favorites.
After lunch we enter the classroom for clean up. The four seasoned chefs chat among each other while I clean by myself. Ripley has disappeared into a room to the right. He emerges with five cookbooks and a printout.
“Here’s a copy of my latest book. Tomorrow we’re going to cook a soufflé, but you will do it my way. The recipe is on page sixty-nine.” He says the number and looks straight at me. “Memorize it and tomorrow I’ll tell you a little secret to making it the perfect experience.” He walks from table to table and hands a book to each of us along with a print out that looks like a map. “Per tradition, dinner is at my house tonight. Here are the directions. Be there at six.” He smiles at everyone then turns toward his office. Without turning around he says, “You’re dismissed.”
I gather my things and race to my room because I know for a fact that my book is different from the rest. When I throw open my door, I drop everything but the book. I flip to page sixty-nine and gasp.
In his precise handwriting it says:
It’s not how you fold the cream. It’s the cream in the folds. I bet yours is delicious.
Seven
Ripley
I’m a dirty-minded fucker, and teasing Madison made what is typically the most boring day of class the most exciting. And when I saw that picture of lips around a cock, I almost came in my pants. I know it was me. Not because she has the proportions right, but because she dates her pages, and the date was yesterday. Too much of a coincidence to tell her I want to shut her up with my cock in her mouth and see that exact image on the page.
The doorbell rings and my dick twitches. I hang a dishtowel from the belt of my pants hoping it disguises the hard-on I’ve been dealing with since yesterday.
I came home after class and jacked off in the shower hoping to find some relief, but each time I close my eyes, I see her lips wrapped around my cock and my hand wrapped around her head. I control the pace and depth and she takes every damn inch of me.
With a tug, I pull the towel so it hangs over my zipper and walk to the door. When I open it, there are only four people, and the only one I want to see is missing.
Not wanting to call attention to my attraction, I invite them in and then in what I hope is a nonchalant voice, I inquire about Madison.
“Where’s Ms. Leclerc?”
They look around themselves like she’s hiding and Chad says, “Oh hell, we forgot about her.”
Rage boils inside me. They didn’t forget about her. They left her because she’s not one of them. “Teamwork people. It’s the first secret to success. Do you think I created what I have on my own? No.” My voice rises an octave. “I owe my success to everyone on my team whether it’s the delivery guy who brings the butter, or the dishwasher who makes sure there’s no soap left in my baking pans. If one of them drops the ball, I fail. We all fail.” What I want to do is tell them to get the fuck out of my house and race down the hill to get Madison.
Then the doorbell rings again. I point down the hallway and tell them to make themselves at home. Before I turn to answer the door, I say a silent prayer that it’s her.
She’s there on my doorstep looking as beautiful as ever. He cheeks are pink from the cold air, and I wonder if they heat from passion as well.
“Are you going to invite me in, or is there a secret password, or handshake, or something.” She looks beyond me to the group gathering around my kitchen island. “Apparently I missed the initiation.”
She doesn’t sound bitter but resigned. It’s as if being left out is normal for her.
I pull her inside and take her coat. She safety pinned the tear but a few feathers escape and float through the air. “I’m sorry about the others. I just read them the riot act for leaving you behind.”
“You didn’t. Now they’ll hate me for sure.” Her green eyes go wide. “It’s bad enough I’m here for free, and I don’t know what the hell I’m doing, but now you’ve made me a target.”
I push her into my office and close the door behind us. “Madison, no one will make the mistake of treating you like a target. I won’t allow it.”
She backs up and I follow her until she’s pinned to the wall. “Why do you care? I don’t. This has been my life forever.”
