Jacques’ uncle owned a french patisserie in Beverly Hills. He knew she had a lust for French food, and a simmering desire to embrace her culinary fetish. He introduced her to the famous French chef Michel Richard.
Chef Michel offered her the most luxurious of his positions, as a hostess to the wealthy. He often catered private parties for the elite in the entertainment industry. Suzette accepted his proposal and agreed to accompany him as his assistant caterer at an upscale event for a film producer in Venice, California.
Michel seemed like a lamb to Suzette, but his gritty bearded face intensified his very striking dark eyes that flashed at her in his commanding presence. He could make his waitress’s jump at his demands, and terrify his kitchen staff. But when he looked at her he had a spark in his eye, and she feared him not at all. “Suzette Cherie, J adore your mouth, I want to bite your bottom lip and eat it for breakfast.”
“Michel, you’re old enough to be my father,” she smiled, hoping to allay further discussion. She had been enthralled with his delicious nephew, a young musician from Paris who’s black hair reached his knees, and when they danced it swayed and flowed sensuously to the rock music in the posh discotheque downtown. Her excitement was enhanced when they were fucking. He let his hair down allowing it to slide over her body like a sheet of silk.
He had an enormous appetite for Suzette and she for him. The affair of three weeks had been a dive deep into each other’s mortal flesh. His sensual delights sent her reeling like a mad woman. Jacques liked to laze in the park, under a tree, eating from a basket his uncle had prepared. “A picnic les amoureux” as chef called it. He included a champagne Cuvee Brut 1999, a fresh authentic quiche Lorraine with a custard so rich it dribbled like pudding down their chins; a baguette with sweet butter, and dark chocolate croissant for dessert.
That last day, lingering in the park Jacques wrote with a pen on her palm, J’adore, and she knew he meant it. But he must return to his professional life, and to his wife in Paris.
The evening of the catered event Chef Michel presented Suzette with an elaborate gown. He must have paid hundreds for it. He encouraged her to try it on in the ladies’ room. When she waltzed out Michel took a breath and had her turn for him. She knew he wanted her in the moment of that intake of breath. He praised her like his child.
There was electricity in the air as they rode in the catering van. She helped set-up and serve the sumptuous food. Sometimes she would look up and his eyes were on her, tasting a sauce, sucking his middle finger. He held her in a moment of intensity that made her feel naked.
When the guests were served he took hold of Suzette’s upper arm and led her down the steps into the dark alley behind the brick building. There was a bit of light leaking onto the dirty alley from the windows high above where diners were enjoying wine and feasting on their first course. She could hear the tinkling of glasses and conversation.
He held her arm a bit too forcefully as if he thought she might run away. When he put his hands on both her shoulders and shoved her hard against the filthy brick wall, she gasped.
He gazed at her for a moment as if accessing her tolerance. She blinked once and smiled faintly lifting her eyes, daring him. He slapped her cheek lightly. Was he hoping for a struggle? He grasped the straps of her gown and yanked them down forcefully, exposing her round fleshy breasts.
When she didn’t respond he pulled the bodice down hoping the gown would give way. Suzette was feeling deliciously wanton when he took a moment to stare at her plump nipples. This did not please the chef.
With his left hand, he caressed her breast while using his right to pull up the full length of the skirt, groping for her panties. She struggled only mildly. When he discovered she wore no underwear he became all the more inflamed. She wished him to touch her between her legs. Without hesitation, he began to unfasten his trousers. His urgency was making her wet, thinking only of his nephew Jacques.
All the while he was forcing her against the wall with one hand on her chest. The bricks were scratching her bare back and she started to make a noise of complaint. He clasped his hand over her mouth.
Her eyes grew large in feigned alarm while she allowed herself to experience the helplessness of his joy at pinning her against the wall and his ferocious growls deep in his throat as he thrust upward hard between her legs. Suzette felt a more burgeoning arousal that made her want to assist him.
He took his hand away from her mouth and pressed his mouth to hers, using his hands now to cup her ass he pulled her forward in order to get deeper inside. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders and let him lift her forcefully downward on his engorged cock.
The sounds she made were equal to his groans now because of both the pleasure and the pain. Her gown was wadded up high around her waist, her bare bottom smacking against the rough brick.
He was bucking convulsively, while Suzette was entirely enthralled, and she allowed herself to be taken by his enormous lust.
When all became silent he slid her down and leaned against her body holding her wrists tightly over her head against the wall that now acted as a welcome anchor. He rested there, panting and glaring into her startling green eyes.
He was still seething when he licked and suckled her nipples, rubbing his face on her neck, then finally released her. He gently pulled up the straps of the gown and returned to the kitchen.