After Hours: Black Lace Classics (10 page)

‘Lend me Micky,’ said Dani.

‘Micky?’ Venny stared at the phone, then said: ‘Micky’s busy getting ready for tonight’s trade, as you well know.’

‘Flora says he’ll do it,’ said Dani.

‘And that’s another thing,’ said Venny. ‘This thing with Flora. How does Caspar feel about it?’

‘Pig-sick,’ said Dani, and laughed. ‘That’s why Flora’s doing it, you berk. She says the spark’s gone from their marriage, and she’s trying to put it back.’

‘That’s a neat analogy, Dani, because sparks are definitely involved; she is in fact playing with fire and she might get burnt to a crisp if she isn’t careful.’

‘You sound like bloody Queen Victoria,’ complained Dani. ‘Oh, come on,’ she wheedled sweetly. ‘Lend me Micky. A couple of hours, and you can have him back.’

‘What about Caspar?’

‘Caspar wouldn’t do it. I asked him. He looked at me as if I’d suggested he take up cannibalism as a hobby. And then he suggested Micky – who’s always up for a laugh, apparently – and Flora said what a good idea, and thank God someone in the Quinn family had a sense of humour.’

Venny closed her eyes and said: ‘Can you hold?’

‘Sure can,’ said Dani.

Venny buzzed Micky’s extension in the kitchen. Carol, the new waitress, answered, then put him on the line.

‘Speaking to me at last, then?’ said Micky, and she could just picture the teasing grin on his face.

‘I have Dani on the line for you,’ said Venny coolly, and replaced the handset. She was aware that her heart was thumping hard. How did he do that to her? And Dani was right. She did sound like Queen Victoria. She tried to get back to her figures again, but her concentration was shot. Irritably she caught herself glancing at the red light on the telephone. When it blinked off, she snatched the phone up and buzzed Micky again.

‘This is the funny farm,’ said Micky’s voice briskly. ‘Who’s that?’

‘Come up here a moment, will you?’ Venny slapped the receiver back down onto the cradle.

About ten minutes later, Micky showed up, carrying a tiny heavy-duty pan and a wooden spoon. His spiked hair still pointed resolutely upward, but his sharp-boned face shone with sweat and his chef’s whites were grubby at the front. He placed the pan and spoon on the desk
then flopped into a chair and gave her a challenging stare from those glittering blue eyes.

‘Well?’ he said. ‘I hope this is really important, because we’re terribly busy down there tonight.’

There he went, Venny thought angrily. Wasn’t that the whole nub of the trouble, right there? She’d expected him to start pushing his luck at the first opportunity, and he was talking as if she had a cheek interrupting him, proving she’d been right.

‘Look, is this thing you’re doing for Dani going to interfere with our cover for the evening?’ said Venny, very businesslike. She sniffed. She could smell something like toffee, and it was mingling with his cologne and with a whiff of fresh male sweat. The combination was extraordinarily potent. Despite herself, she felt her pussy give a little twitch of hunger.

‘No, we’re covered,’ said Micky confidently, lounging back in the chair and looking at her in an unnervingly sexual way. ‘I’m prepreparing most things, and I’ll be back by ten; everything’s cool.’

‘Right.’ Well, she’d wanted to be sure about that. But still, she was annoyed that his easy assurance had somewhat taken the wind out of her sails. She realised that she’d wanted to berate him, to reclaim the authoritarian ground she felt she’d somehow lost over the manner of his starting work here. True to form, he hadn’t given her a chance. ‘So what’s this?’ she asked, pointing with her pen to the small pot on her desk.

‘Oh, yeah.’ Micky stood up and came around to her side of the desk. ‘I wanted your opinion on this.
It’s caramel sauce, which I’m thinking of putting with home-made vanilla ice cream and a summer fruit sorbet. Taste.’

Micky dipped a finger into the thick buttery mixture and held it to her mouth.

‘Um …’ said Venny, leaning sharply back in her chair.

‘Come on, Venny. Just a little taste.’

Oh God. Her nose for trouble was telling her in no uncertain terms that things were beginning to spiral out of her control again. But she’d look like the world’s worst-ever prude if she refused to lick the sweet-smelling goo off his index finger, so she leaned forwards and cautiously took a small lick at it.

‘Good?’ he asked, leaning against her desk and grinning down at her.

‘Yes,’ said Venny honestly. It was completely yummy. She wanted another taste, but was afraid he would misinterpret that if she confessed to it.

‘Let me have a taste,’ said Micky, smiling into her eyes with maddening composure. Before her disbelieving eyes he took the spoon and smoothed a three-inch wodge of the sauce up her bare forearm. Dropping the spoon back into the pot, he took her hand in his and drew her arm up to his mouth, then licked the sauce from her arm in a series of long, thoughtful strokes.

Venny felt her nipples rise against the scratchy cotton of her new sleeveless lemon-coloured top, in response to the touch of his tongue. She wanted to protest, to say stop, what the hell are you doing? But she stayed there, unable to utter a word, watching that dark head bend
over her arm, feeling the hot moistness of his tongue at work on her skin. His vivid blue eyes, usually so full of laughter, had taken on an intensely concentrated expression.

‘Oh, that’s good,’ he murmured, and licked again, closing his eyes and inhaling deeply. Venny shivered. Close up like this she could see that Micky had thick sweeping black lashes, the sort that any woman would kill for. His tongue on her arm felt very strange – weird, almost, as if he were about to open his mouth and fasten his teeth onto the tender flesh of her arm, about to tear and savage her flesh, eat her whole. But his touch was so gentle.

‘The caramel’s very creamy,’ he said consideringly, and his head lifted a little so that his eyes could meet hers. ‘But there’s the undertone of your skin too, like milk and strawberries.’ Venny could only stare. Slowly, so slowly, Micky’s head lowered and his lips, tasting of caramel, of toffee and childhood tuck shops, touched hers. His tongue stroked along her lower lip, then his teeth caught at her top lip, and this had the desired effect. Her mouth opened and he leaned forwards, leaned into the kiss, tasting her as he had tasted the sauce and her fragrant skin.

‘You taste good all over,’ he growled against her hot cheek. ‘Your mouth tastes like wine, your skin like fresh fruit, your cunt like oysters.’

His lips found her ear and tugged at the lobe. Venny arched her neck mindlessly, allowing him free access. Intent on the course his mouth was taking, she was
surprised to feel his hand freeing the tiny buttons at the back of her blouse. For a moment she thought about protest, but he moved so quickly, freeing the last button before she’d had a chance to gather her thoughts. He pulled the flimsy material down over her arms, laying the blouse across her skirted lap. Then he sat back on her desk and looked hungrily at her naked, aroused breasts before reaching out and tweaking the hard, hungry nipples with his fingers.

‘We can’t do this,’ said Venny urgently, her voice wavering. ‘The door’s open.’

‘Mm, so it is. Don’t you find that exciting, the thought that at any moment someone could walk in and find us like this? Venny, we can do it. We are doing it.’ Micky was rubbing his thumb luxuriously over the erect points of her coral-coloured nipples. ‘I didn’t have time to do this when we were in the lift, did I? I only had time enough to lap your deliriously creamy little slit. And you didn’t have time to reciprocate.’

Venny watched dazedly as Micky pushed his apron aside and lowered the fly on his checked trousers. His erect penis was pushing madly at the fabric and seemed almost to spring into his hand when he reached into his trousers for it. He pulled his cock out. No underpants impeded its progress, and Venny could understand that. It was too hot in the restaurant kitchen for underpants. It was so hot outside today that she hadn’t even worn a bra. But maybe that hadn’t been the only reason she had not worn one. Maybe she had wanted Micky to see the nude outline of her breasts as she strolled through the
kitchens without her jacket on this morning. She knew that he had seen a tantalising glimpse of them; she had looked down at the front of his chef’s whites and had seen the hungry surge of his erection there, fierce and sudden.

Whether he annoyed her or not, she had wanted so much to see his cock, and now here it was naked in front of her, eight inches of ruddy, pulsing manhood, thicker than she would have expected – certainly longer, too. Micky, seeing her extreme interest in his organ, pushed his trousers down onto his thighs to reveal a thick dark thatch of hair. Even his balls were gorgeous, she thought lustfully, pushed up by the edge of her desk as if inviting her to touch, to weigh them in her hands. His thighs were spread open, so that she could look her fill.

‘God, stop looking at me like that. You’re turning me on,’ moaned Micky. He grabbed the spoon from the pot. Venny, naked to the waist and staring at eye-level at his beautiful erect cock, felt her hot juices dampening her skirt where she sat. No pants today, either. She hadn’t worn pants or a bra since he’d started work here. And she accepted now that this had been because she wanted him to have access, instant access, to her body, should he want it.

And oh, how he wanted it. His cock wavered enticingly, as if it could smell her arousal, and be guided to her portal by scent alone. And as it quivered and oozed a droplet of come from its engorged tip, Micky drizzled a little of the caramel sauce from the wooden spoon
onto his naked penis. He groaned as he did so, as if the sensation of warm liquid coating his glans assaulted his senses, and almost before he had put the spoon back in the pot, Venny knew what he was going to say.

‘Come taste me,’ he whispered, putting a hand to her tangled curls to guide her head to his cock.

By now Venny needed no encouragement. She dipped her head to his glans and opened her mouth to suck in the sauce. The taste was one of mingled sweetness and saltiness as she encased the pulsing tip of his caramel-covered cock within her wide-spread lips. She grasped the throbbing stem in her hands, massaging lightly as she tasted the sauce and tasted him too. Micky was groaning soft curses and clutching at her hair when they both heard a slow tread on the stairs.

‘Jesus!’ hissed Venny, pulling back and hurriedly shrugging into her blouse. Micky reacted equally fast, popping his stiff toffee-coated cock back into his trousers and dropping the apron in place over it to cover the embarrassing extent of its arousal.

‘Turn,’ he said quickly while Venny fiddled desperately with her buttons and the footsteps kept coming closer. Venny turned around, and Micky adeptly refastened her buttons.

‘You’ve done this before,’ accused Venny.

‘Would you rather I hadn’t?’ Micky hissed in her ear, giving it a quick kiss before bolting around the desk and sitting down. When Neil appeared in the doorway they were sitting there, perfectly decorous, having a conversation about whether or not the caramel sauce
was a good thing with the ice cream. Too heavy, perhaps? Maybe better for the winter menu?

‘You could be right,’ said Micky smoothly, as Venny looked up questioningly at Neil. Thank God he couldn’t tell how hard her heart was pounding. She might look a bit flushed, but that could be put down to the heat.

‘I’ve got all the vegetables and the sea bass and the sauces ready, Micky. You said you wanted to build the plates for the starters, didn’t you?’

‘Oh, right.’ Micky jumped to his feet and snatched up the little pot and the spoon. ‘See you later, boss,’ he said casually to Venny, and then he was gone.

‘Bastard,’ said Venny to the empty office. Every pulse in her body was thrumming away like a tightly drawn clutch of strings. She felt that if she didn’t get some relief, she might explode and spatter the walls with sexual juices. She thought of his hot, sweet cock and felt the trickle of her moist sex dampening her skirt.

‘Oh, hell,’ she moaned, dropping her head into her hands and closing her eyes tight shut. Think of something else, she told herself. Think of shopping. Suits. Tops. Sexy underwear. Crotchless knickers so that he could get at her so easily.

No.

Think of something else. Sanders. Drills. Hammer drills, big pounding machines.

No.

She thought of food. Another mistake: it took her reeling brain straight back to that delicious caramel
sauce – and to his penis twitching in her mouth. Cakes, then. That only called to her mind Dani’s huge fake cake, out of which Micky was going to jump tonight. Naked and erect. She’d seen him erect, but she hadn’t yet seen him completely naked, and she wanted to. Suddenly she wanted to with a determination that astonished her. Well, she could. If she really wanted to.

Oh, and she did, she did.

Venny snatched up her bag and stood up. She grabbed her oatmeal linen jacket, which was draped over the back of her chair. Then she left the room and went downstairs and through the studded burgundy door to the kitchens.

It was like a scene from hell in there. Heat hit her like a brick wall met at high speed. Steam billowed, flames flared, and in the midst of it all like some mad magician was Micky, issuing orders and sending his troops scuttling hither and yon to do his bidding as he worked, sweating, over plates of food – adding a little of this, a little of that, in some bewilderingly powerful alchemy that she had never seen Bill Thompson perform. The kitchens were buzzing with enthusiasm. And she hadn’t seen much of that under Bill’s rule, either.

She swallowed, composed herself, and walked over to where Micky toiled, totally absorbed in the job.

‘I’m going to be out for the rest of the evening,’ she said to his back. He was crouching over a plate, spooning a little savoury
jus
around a sliver of jewel-coloured vegetable terrine. He added a small sprig of fresh basil from one of the new terracotta pots bulging
with assorted herbs that he had asked Neil to buy, and paused to admire the finished effect.

‘Fine. We’ll cope,’ he said offhandedly, then turned and to her shock kissed her lingeringly on the lips. ‘See you, then,’ he said huskily, his eyes glowing warmly into hers.