Inferno Anthology (15 page)

“Damn it, Errol,” she cried out. She tugged at her wrists as the strength of the intense oncoming orgasm nearly tore her apart.

“Go ahead,” Errol whispered. “I want to see.”

The brushing motions along her lips quickened as did the spinning inside.

As her orgasm took hold of her entire body, she arched her back, opened her eyes wide under the veil of cheesecloth and let out an inhuman cry.

“I told you, Taryn,” Errol said as he brought four freshly pressed shirts to the open suitcase on the bed. “I have to meet with my producer.”

“Last night it was all about teaching me the use of every kitchen utensil imaginable and now you’re off to God knows where.” She idly spun the lemon reamer he’d used on her the night before between her fingers.

He shot a glance at the tool. “I’d wash that before using it if I were you, and be careful.”

Disgruntled, she tossed it on the bed beside her. It landed next to the plastic pastry brush he’d so artfully used along with the reamer. “You never mentioned this meeting before.”

“There are a lot of things I don’t mention.” He grabbed some socks and underwear out of a drawer and dumped them in the suitcase.

“How long will you be gone?”

“Two or three days. Four tops.”

“Why can’t I go with you?”

He glared at her. “Don’t turn into that girl, Taryn.”

Pouting, she looked at him. “What girl?”

“Needy and whiny.” He shut the suitcase. “Besides, you have schoolwork to keep you busy.”

“Does this have anything to do with Xaviera?”

“No.”

“She must have been exciting to be with.”

He gazed at her. Clearly he wanted to put an end to the conversation.

“I mean, the woman positively oozes eroticism.”

“Yes.”

“And I’m just…” She let the statement hang in the air, hoping he’d reassure her.

“I’m here with you now, aren’t I?”

“Yes, but…”

He snickered and shook his head. “Taryn, Xaviera was a thrill for a minute or so. I’ll admit I like things a little wild and kinky, but she brought kinky to a whole other level; a level I had no interest in.”

“So, you’re not running off to…?”

“You’ll see for yourself when you go to school tomorrow and see her in class.” He clipped his suitcase shut, picked it up and leaned over to kiss her, entwining his tongue with hers. His free hand grabbed hold of her cheeks and pulled her in closer, his mouth devouring hers.

She kissed him back just as passionately, wanting to show him how much she wanted him, how she should be the only woman for him. She grabbed his hair and tugged him closer to her, kissing him deeply, while her other hand found the front of his pants and slipped inside to grab hold of his hard erection.

She ran her fingers up and down his shaft, circling the tip and pulling on it. She heard Errol groan, “Taryn, where have you been hiding this minx?”

“Shhh…” Taryn said and went down on her knees, unzipped Errol’s pants, and pulled out his massive length. What would it be to taste him, to completely devour him? She looked up into Errol’s eyes from where she was posed in front of his hard-on, and took him all in while keeping her eyes on his.

He closed his eyes, arching his back, dropping the suitcase to the ground, as he gently pulled Taryn’s head closer, guiding her. She took him in with relish, sucking and licking him until he shuddered.

“Taryn,” he groaned. “You are the most beautiful and sexiest creature…” He pulled her up and turned her around, pushing her panties down. “You’ve no need to feel so insecure about yourself.” He drove his hard-on deep into her, she buckled forward. His hands gripped her waist, and he plunged into her harder and faster. Within minutes, she cried out her climax while he groaned his shortly after. “No woman,” Errol said between breaths, “should feel insecure if she can make me want to fuck so hard and come so hard like you do.”

*****

The next day, he was right. Xaviera was there, all breasts and hips and sultry lips. As she stood at the head of the class watching her students file in, she absentmindedly played with the long chain that dangled between her breasts.

The briefest scathing glance shot at Taryn told her it would be another long and excruciating hour in the presence of Errol’s ex.

“Buddy up with me,” Henri said when they were given the task of making a trio of pastries.

Trying to avoid looking at Xaviera, Taryn took care of the
petits choux
while Henri worked on the chocolte
éclairs
. Together they made the perfect batch of
mille feuilles.

“Nervous?” Henri asked when Taryn dropped a wooden spoon for the third time.

Madame X had begun to circulate around the room, taking notes, making comments, tasting, poking and prodding the various pastries. She was headed their way and Taryn anticipated the comments to come.

“
C’est beau
,” she said as she picked up and examined one of Henri’s perfect
éclairs
. She picked up the
milles feuilles
and squeezed until the custard spilled out.

Taryn held her breath. What would the witch have to say about her
petit chou?

“See,” Henri said when Xaviera ignored the little pastry and walked on to the next team. “You got all worked up for nothing.”

“Yeah,” Taryn said with a shrug. “Who knew indifference could be so pleasant.”

He grinned and leaned in closer. “You need to cut loose a bit. A few of us are meeting for a few drinks after class. Why don’t you come?”

Taryn considered his tempting invitation. Since all her free time was spent with Errol, she hardly knew any of the students in her classes. Going out and getting to know people could do her some good, she thought. Besides, with Errol gone she was all alone in the apartment and it would be a long, dreary night.

The class let out and Taryn sighed her relief. Another day in the presence of Madame X that she could cross off her calendar. After cleaning up and dumping off her apron, she followed Henri out of the Institute. The sun was warm despite the cool chill in the air.

“It’s just around the block.”

They arrived at the small and intimate establishment, peeked inside and waved their presence to the waiter before choosing a little table set up outside on the sidewalk. Henri ordered a bottle of wine and, while he didn’t have Errol’s degree of worldliness and finesse, he had a quiet and reserved confidence she liked.

“Where is everyone?” Taryn asked. She peered down the street in the direction they’d come from and couldn’t recognize any of the people walking by.

Henri shifted a moment then turned to the waiter who had him taste the first glass of wine. He nodded his acceptance and the waiter bowed his retreat. Henri swirled the ruby red wine around in his glass and grinned.

“They’re not coming, are they?” Taryn said.

He shook his head. “Sorry. I should have come straight out and said I wanted to have a drink with you.”

Smiling, she raised her glass. “Well, you got me here, and I’m happy to have a drink with you.”

“So you forgive my faux pas. I’m not used to this.”

She took a sip of wine and nodded. She liked his frank honesty. “To tell you the truth, it’s kind of cute. I mean, it’s cool that you don’t have an established pick up line or two.”

Cocking his head to the side, he laughed. “I never was that cool guy who had it easy with the ladies.”

“Yet, you’re so adorably handsome.”

He blushed and Taryn wanted to laugh. He was refreshing in every way.

“You like?” Henri asked as he held up his glass of wine.

Though her knowledge of wine was definitely lacking, she’d recently become accustomed to very fine wines with Errol. She couldn’t quite put her finger on it, but there was a lack in depth of flavor that left her a little flat. “It’s good,” she said all the same. No doubt the bottle had cost a fraction of the price Errol paid, but she was touched by Henri’s eagerness to please.

For a few moments they sat in silence, watching passers-by who hurried to run errands, rush to get home, or simply stroll amidst the bistros and shops.

“Is the Institute everything you thought it would be?” Taryn finally asked.

“It’s certainly a lot more work than I would have thought, but I’m looking forward to learning to work with ingredients I’m not used to. I think that will be the next lesson. What about you?”

“I’ve enjoyed every single second so far and…”

“Really? You didn’t seem to be enjoying yourself yesterday.”

“Ah, yes. Madame X.” Taryn shook her head and chuckled. “What a number. It’s hard to believe she teaches pastry making when you look at how she fills out a dress. She’s probably never eaten anything she’s made. I mean, did you see that itsy bitsy tiny waist. I could probably wrap my hands around it.”

Henri laughed. “She certainly is… interesting.”

“I guess… if you like that sort of thing.”

“Don’t let her get to you.”

“I’m trying.” Exasperated by the thought of Xaviera, Taryn felt the temperature rise. She rolled up her sleeves and sought to change the subject. Anything was better than talking about her tormentor. “How are you coming along on that menu assignment?”

They’d all been asked to create a full six-course dinner. Every course had to be original and creative.

“I’m having trouble with the main course,” he admitted. His gaze dipped down to her forearm.

Taryn followed his gaze, saw the red welt and quickly brought her sleeve back down.

Henri reached across the table and slipped his finger under the cuff of her shirt. “I’d always heard the Institute was rough. I knew I’d have a lot of hard work ahead of me and that it wouldn’t be easy. I’d also heard of the tyrant Chef King could be at times.”

Casting her gaze aside, Taryn swallowed. “Easy and permissive teachers only breed mediocrity.”

“I’ve also heard a lot about Mr. Kings personal preferences,” Henri went on. “He likes things rough.”

Taryn said nothing as she picked up her glass and took a sip.

“He gets pleasure out of bringing pain…”

“I thought you wanted to have a drink to discuss school, cooking, anything other than a teacher’s personal life.” While her defenses had gone up on the inside, she managed to speak with surprising calm and poise. The words almost sounded light and amused as they floated in the air.

“Taryn, I just think you should know…”

She pulled her hand away and pressed her lips tightly together.

“If he’s already playing this rough with you, don’t think it’ll get easier. He’ll want it rougher and more brutal. It’s no secret what he’ll…”

She cocked an annoyed brow and immediately regretted it. She knew he meant well. “Look, Henri, I’m a big girl. Don’t worry about me. After all, I’m a New Yorker. I know rough.”

“Fine, but I think you should know one last thing about Chef King. His lovers never last longer than a month or two. It’s already been how long for you?”

Her mind and body went numb as his words sank in. She wanted to argue, to tell him he had no idea what he was talking about. But it made so much sense. How much longer could they go on like this? How much longer before he grew bored of her?

How long before he went off looking for a new toy?

Taryn sat in the passenger seat of Henri’s car, taking in the beauty of the lush countryside far outside Paris. They’d already been driving for almost four hours and she still gasped with awe as the beauty took her breath away.

After a third day home alone, she’d finally accepted Henri’s invitation to visit a dairy farm in the rolling hills of the region of Alsace.

“Knowing where real food comes from is important,” he’d argued. “I also know this organic farmer I think you’d like to meet. And I took down the address of a pigeon farmer.”

She shook her head and grimaced. “I still have a hard time wrapping my head around the idea of killing and cooking a pigeon.”

Henri shrugged. “No different than killing or cooking a chicken.”

Pressing a tight grin, she looked at him. “Thanks.”

“For what? Introducing you to a pigeon farmer.”

“For insisting I come with you. This is nice. I never thought the countryside could be so spectacularly beautiful.”

He looked out at the pastures, meadows and gentle valleys that surrounded them. “It is pretty, isn’t it? If we have time, we’ll stop at a vineyard. Alsace has great white wines.”

They stopped briefly at the pigeon farm, but Taryn still found herself unable to digest the idea of eating pigeon.

“I know I have to keep an open mind about these things,” Taryn said as she got back in the car. “But to actually see them in those cages…”

Henri chuckled and drove off. After skirting the city of Haguenau, Taryn noted a subtle difference in the signs that dotted the roadside. Her French was weak, but she had a good idea of what a French word should look like.

“Is it just me, or have we left France?”

Laughing, Henri playfully slapped her thigh. “If we leave the country, believe me, I’ll be the first to let you know.”

“Then what’s with all these… Are those Dutch names? I mean Vosges and Betschdorf. That’s not French.”

“You’re very perceptive, but that’s not Dutch. It’s German.” He turned the car in the direction of Walbourg. “We’re very close to the French/German border.”

Their next stop was a dairy farm. Owned by
Monsieur Chartrand
, the farm was set in the middle of some of the most beautiful countryside Taryn had ever seen. The rustic farmhouse was inviting in an old world way, and picture perfect. Everything about the look and feel of the farm spoke of old times, old customs, and old ways.

Inside the graying old barn, however, the old looking country farm was a marvel of modern technology. While milking was occasionally done by hand to show visitors how it was once done, a lot of modern machinery now surrounded the process of getting milk from a cow.

“I can’t believe the cows aren’t freaked out by those pump things attached to them.”

The farmer, a middle-aged man with a sun dried face and calloused hands, looked at her. “
Dey like de pumps
,” he said in a heavily accented English.