Temptation

14

"Touch me, Vernon," whispered, "touch my hands."

He smiled softly and held my hands into his.

There was a moment of silence in the room.

"We should move on to our next activity," Vernon suggested, getting out of the mood.

Uh oh.

"Hm, what is it. Did you think of it yet?"

"Not really," he gave a guilty look.

"What time is it?" I asked, exhaling.

"Around 9 o'clock," Vernon said as he looked into his watch.

"Do you cook?" I asked.

He shook his head.

"Do you maybe, want to?" I asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Never tried, but if you teach me, then okay," he said with a smile growing.

"Let's get this then?" I grinned at him, getting up from the bed.

He nodded playfully.

We got ourselves into the kitchen.

"What are we supposed to cook?" I asked for a suggestion.

Vernon looked up to think.

"Something you'll love," he clicked his fingers as he bit his lips.

"What is it?" I asked curiously.

"Me," he said, straightforwardly.

Pervert.

I perkily punched him on his chest, while he pretended to save himself from his 'cardiac arrest'.

He's cute.

"Alright, seriously, what do you wanna cook?" I asked again, this time, seriously.

"Mmm, something which is easy for me," he said.

I tilted my head to think.

"Hey why don't we just fry something instead of cooking wet stuff. Cut me a chicken and I'll fry it."

"Do you know how to marinate a chicken piece and what ingredients are required?"

His face filled with perplexity, as if he just dropped out of the clear blue.

"What does marinating mean?" he asked childishly.

I giggled at his question.

"It means to mix or immerse the piece with necessary spices and ingredients," I taught.

He made an 'Oh' face.

"And what do we need for that?" he asked.

"Let's find out!" I clapped my hands and began the cooking lesson.

I cut a chicken and divided its breast pieces. After properly washing them, I handed them over to Vernon for the marination.

He rolled his sleeves till his elbow, preparing himself for the task.

Those hands wow.

I explained him how to undergo the marination process. He was pretty well. He took a glance at me in between to make sure things were going accurately. I watched him enjoy the kitchen work which he has never done before. He indeed grew up without touching a thing, however, he was a fast learner.

"Is it done?" he blew out as he rubbed his hands.

"Yes--"

"Is this masala edible? Raw?" he asked, with baby eyes.

"No, why?" I laughed.

"No, I wanted to lick it," he pouted as he plucked out the dried spices out of his fingers.

I awed at him.

He was totally different from the typical rich kids in town.