Versed

VII

Getting to Eric's restaurant after a day filled with Jordan I'm eager to get to my man. I walk into the restaurant breathing in the familiar scent of mint and heavy cologne. No doubt Jon Vitelli, the maître d' is nearby wearing expensive cologne that wraps itself around you. When his pale skin and dark hair appears he greets me with his thick Italian accent and I entertain him with small talk. Hearing laughter coming from the kitchen and usher my way to the kitchen. Looking around the restaurant I smile thinking of our lunch that brought Eric back into my life. The beautiful photograph hanging on the wall.

Walking into the kitchen the stainless steel filled kitchen it's unbelievably clean back here. Everything shines and against the white it feels like I've stepped into the sun. I have to shut my eyes a bit just to readjust to the lighting. Upon my entry Eric looks up from seat looking over his shoulder. He smiles and winks at me from across the kitchen. Still, he manages to make me feel like I'm the most important person in the room. I can feel myself gushing but I look around to see some cleaning and some working on stuff I'm not sure what it is truthfully.

"Hello." I say to his kitchen staff standing weirdly in the middle of the kitchen. They all acknowledge me but I'm sure I'm just getting in the way here. Usually when I come back here he's here with Lily his spud chef. He has to Lily's and one of them does dessert. She's called Kravitz and the other is Ontario. I love Kravitz but I'm more acquainted with Ontario.

"Come here." He says gesturing me over to where he is sitting amongst his employees and colleagues. I come up behind him watching him as he rolls something and stretches it out in water. I haven't got a clue as to what he's making.

Either reading my mind or reading my face he snickers, "Mozzarella; wash your hands and join me?"

I wash my hands thoroughly and he stands allowing me to sit in front of the bowl. Though his kitchen staff is also here making mozzarella I can tell they're watching us.

"Now I want you to shape it into a ball, careful the water is very hot." I do so while burning my fingers. I don't know how he does this and doesn't feel it. I attempt at rolling it but I must not have been doing it right. His laughter came from deep within his chest as he leans against me taking my hands and softly rolling it. Letting go he mutters something to Ontario.

Now I'm mostly watching him because it's different; he's different in the kitchen. He's got this glow in here I can tell he loves what he does.

He looks down at me, "Focus Maia. You're botching the shape."

"I can't do it, you do it." I stand up and he sits using his arm to guide me back but onto his lap. His arms cage me in and they're thick and veiny. Eric has this delicious natural scent wafting as he moves with each roll of the mozzarella. I'm getting very turned on.

"See that, look at that beauty." Is it too cliche of me to say yes I do knowing damn well I mean him? He pulls it from the water setting it into a bowl of ice water. I could really use that ice water because I have officially become insatiable.

It doesn't feel like anyone else is here but us two. I'd really like to take him home and do so many things to him. Who knew mozzarella could be such an aphrodisiac? He plants a kiss to my cheek and whispers, "I've got a lot to prep for tonight before we head home."

I whisper back, "Why so much prep?"

"Well when Sean and Adrianne came by they were asking that I cook for their brunch for tomorrow morning, which they also invited us to."

He rises from his seat washes his hands and orders his staff to finish up and come in bright and early. He grabs a towel and as he dries his hands I watch his hands pressing into the towel. The sexy way his arm flexes and the way his shirt hugs his back. That chef top takes more work to get off but he does like me in it.  Eric reaches up hanging the pots and I admire the round of his ass.