New York Loves The All-Star Game

New York comes alive this week and next for the Major League All-Star Game. All your favorite baseball players, past and present, will come together for many different events, making New York City the center of the universe.

It wasn’t that long ago that Hurricane Sandy swept through the area, causing damage that is still being dealt with today. During that period, Riverdale Ave. Books published short stories written by several Erotica writers in one collection called We Love NY.

I recommend you go to their site and purchase this book, with proceeds going to the Red Cross. In the meantime, here is a teaser of the story that I have published in that anthology…

Enjoy!!!

*****
 

Red Velvet Cake

By Tony Wards

I love cooking, always have. It's in my blood, I guess. My mother was a great cook, but not a chef like me. I learned so much from her, but I've been fortunate enough to go to school and train to be a chef. About two years ago, I took out a small business loan from the bank to open my own restaurant. I had enough of cooking for someone else. I wanted to receive the glory, the fame, the money. It's not an easy task though.

I didn’t get much support from friends and family when I told them I'd be opening my place in Harlem. Being Italian, mostly everyone expected me to open a pizzeria or some upscale restaurant in an Italian neighborhood like Bay Ridge, Brooklyn. You should have seen the looks on their faces when I told them that I was going to run a soul food joint in Harlem. Classic!

I lost many friends, and some family too, but my dreams needed to be sought out. I was driven. I knew what I could do, and damn it, I was going to do it. I love Harlem. It has a great history of music, food, and yes, I have a thing for women of color. African-American and Hispanic women alike - I liked them all. Actually, I had sex with one Puerto Rican girl about twenty years ago but that was it as far as my experience goes. I had never even kissed a Black woman before. I guess my admiration came at a great distance.

I wasn't into the whole restaurant scene for the women, anyway. That was a side attraction. I was aspiring to be a great chef and owner of a spectacular restaurant. If the Food Network calls, I’m available for my own show!

****

It was a Friday night and the crowd was pretty good. My place only had fifteen tables so a good night for me is when ten or more are occupied. That was usually the case on weekends, but the weekday crowd was maybe half of that. I've been here for two years and it took a while for me to gain a good reputation. Good enough, in fact, that customers started to come from miles away. I always emphasized to my wait staff that they should engage in light conversation, just to get a feel from the diners as to what they like or dislike. Also, finding out how far they traveled to get to the restaurant was always another cool bit of information. It was definitely an ego boost for me—a great rush.

At eleven o'clock, about an hour before closing time, one of my waiters came into the kitchen to speak with me. The only time they do that is if something is wrong, so I was worried when I saw Phil come up to me.

"What's wrong?" I asked immediately.

"Nothing, actually. I think it's good news," responded Phil. "One of the diners would like to thank you personally."

"I think that is good news!" I chuckled.

I took off my apron and headed out of the kitchen, but was cut off at the swinging doors. The diner was a woman, and a beautiful one at that. She was drop-dead gorgeous. She looked to be about my age, which was thirty-five. She stood at five foot eight, which was just a couple of inches shorter than me. She had shoulder-length brown hair, green eyes, and a café-au-lait complexion. She reminded me of Vanessa Williams—that sexy and that delicious-looking.

"I just wanted to thank you for a wonderful meal, Chef," she said in a sultry, sex-dripping voice.

"Please, ma'am. Call me Nick. Nicholas Colletti at your service." I offered to shake her hand, even though I felt as if I was all sweaty and clammy.

"And please, Nick. Call me Tanya." She still held my hand. I enjoyed feeling the warmth of her skin. She smelled delicious, too. I hoped I wasn't drooling.

"I'll remember that, Tanya," I replied, in the sexiest voice I could muster.

"Please do." Tanya let go of my hand, even though I didn't want her to just yet. She looked good, smelled good, and the bulge in my pants woke up when I wondered if she tasted good, too.

I imagined she was on her way out and figured I may never see her again, but wanted to lure her back in for business. "Next time you come to eat, be sure to remind me about your free dessert."

"You're offering me dessert, Nick?"

"Yes I am, Tanya. Anything you want."

"Wow. With an offer like that, I will definitely be in touch. I have the number of the restaurant, so I will be calling."

"Please do."

"Sooner than you think…" Tanya gave me a seductive little wink, turned around, and walked out into the late night air. I only hoped now that what she said was true, because I really liked her.

****

I went home that night thinking of Tanya. I was staying far away from silly clichés like Nubian Princess or Ebony Queen. I stayed true to myself, my upbringing, and to my view on women. She was one hot lady! I mean, she was easily the hottest-looking woman I've ever seen. It took me all of two minutes to pleasure myself, reminded of how she smelled, how her hand felt inside mine, and her face. Oh, that face. That face could make me melt. This time, however, it made me shoot off in record time.

I rolled over in my bed and immediately began to snore. I was tired, spent, and needed rest for another busy day of work. And if I was lucky, another chance at seeing Tanya. Mmm…Tanya…

****

I got to work the next day and was quickly approached by my weekend hostess, Molly. Molly was a culinary student I knew from years ago, who was actually better at oral pleasures than making pan sauces. She wouldn't know the difference between tossing the salad and tossing a salad, but she was drop-dead gorgeous, and polite enough to make anyone feel welcome in my establishment. Molly has been with me now from the beginning, and I was glad to have her, since she kept everyone on their toes.

"Hey, Nick. Check this out," Molly said, just a tad bit excited.

"Hello, sexy. What's up?" I replied. I think over the years we've become sort of a married couple. I rarely called her by her name.

"Check out the reservation log for tonight."

Molly held the book open for me as I looked over her shoulder. I could smell her hair. Mmm…she always smelled great. I can't remember how many times she and I have had sex, but you never get tired of a beautiful woman like her. It's almost sad, that two people so attracted to each other never found time to get together and stay together. I guess we'll always have feelings for each other, even now, as I found myself feeling her ass over her tight skirt.

"Uh, Nick. Are you paying attention? Read the reservation for midnight," Molly said, pretending to be annoyed.

"Tanya and Nick? Who called this in?"

"She did."

"You took the call?" I asked.

"Yes, silly. Now stop rubbing my ass. Looks like you'll need to save your strength for tonight," Molly said, as she walked away from me.

All throughout the day's service I cooked and prepared the meals with one eye on the clock. I was getting a headache from looking up so many times. Time moved slowly as I wondered what Tanya had planned. I mean, she made reservations in my own restaurant for the two of us. On top of that, she did it at closing time. I imagined she meant for us to be alone, but she has to realize that there are people who clean up afterwards, including me. I would love nothing more than to have a nice night with her, but at the end of a long day with so much cleaning to do, I usually just want to go home and crash.

This doesn't mean I wasn't excited or anxious. Quite the opposite, in fact. I anticipated her arrival all day. I just didn't want to come across as a party pooper, as someone not appreciative of her effort. Her coming back to my restaurant was a big deal to me—I wanted Tanya to know that.

I decided on flowers. That’s it—I’ll decorate the table with flowers, and candles, and anything else I can get my hands on. That might work. If nothing else, she’ll appreciate the effort. Sort of like me appreciating her coming up with the original idea.

****

Tanya appeared in my restaurant at the stroke of midnight. The last of the customers were gone, so we closed our doors and began the grueling task of cleaning up after ourselves. It was the part of the job I never enjoyed, but it was necessary. Line cooks say they hate prep work the most, but as chef and owner, I hated being responsible for all that cleaning that needed to be done at the end of a long night. The other hazard was being hungry at the end of the evening, but not wanting to eat anything you have in the restaurant. I mean, you see and smell the same food all day long, so who wants to eat it?

"Hello, Nick. Was this a bad idea?" Tanya asked hesitantly, watching me scramble as quickly as possible, rinsing out a huge pot.

"Not at all! Just trying to get some stuff done. Have a seat. I have a table over there for us. Give me five minutes. Please." I pointed to a table in the corner, away from the kitchen. It was my favorite table because there was the least amount of light, which made my idea of using candles that much more brilliant.

Ten minutes later, as instructed by my staff, I was cleaned up and ready to join Tanya at her table. The ambience wasn't the greatest, I admit, but under the circumstances I think it all looked okay. It could have been worse, anyway. It could have been opening time.

"About time. I was beginning to think I was getting stood up," Tanya said, with a wry sense of comedic delivery.

"Sorry. I got off late from work. I tried to get here as soon as I could. Boss is a real jerk." I flashed a schoolboy smile, hoping to win points for a decent comeback.

"You'll be forgiven only if you feed me with a delicious meal. I am starved. It's been a rough week, so I'm looking to be pampered."

"Sorry. Want to talk about it?" I asked because I was truly interested. I didn't know much about Tanya, so this was the perfect opening.

"Work has been hectic. People getting laid off, and all that jazz. Times are tough. No one has money out there. Makes my job difficult." Tanya let out a sigh.

"What do you do? What kind of work?"

"I'm a hooker." Tanya couldn't keep a straight face. She burst out laughing, almost releasing the always-embarrassing snot bubble. She fought back hard, and won.

"That was a good one," I admitted. She had some sense of humor. I loved it. "Seriously. What do you do?"

"Well, I am not a hooker, although I should get paid for my services," Tanya said slyly.

"Excuse me?"

"Oh, you'll see, Nick." That reply, which woke my cock up, was followed by a smile and a wink.

"I will?"

Tanya ignored that last question, and continued speaking. "I work for a non-profit that deals with education for underprivileged children. It's great work, hard work, but the money stinks. It's not like being a chef or an owner or anything like that."

"You think I'm rich?" I asked. "Please. I own a restaurant in Harlem, Tanya. This isn't the Village, or the theater district. My customers aren't rich. Rarely, mostly during the summer months, I'll get tourists come in and spend a fortune. Maybe, just maybe, some big shot will show some racist client how the other half lives."

"What do you mean? Big shot? Racist client?"

"You see, over time you begin to see a lot of phonies walk in here. White people trying to act like it's cool to be seen in a soul food restaurant, like it's hip or something. Maybe they think it's just quaint, I don't know. Also, you get the politicians from the area, mostly black; coming in here because they're hoping someone with a camera will snap a picture of them. Then, of course, you get the white and black politicians together. Now they usually travel with cameras. It's all so fake, really. I'd like to throw them all out, but then again, half of these idiots don't even realize that a white guy owns and runs this place." I took a deep breath, sipped my water, and waited for a reaction.

"So where does that leave you, Nick? I mean, are you just a working-class bum, or are you here to help the community, or both? Or neither?"

I thought about the question for a second, but knew I had to just be honest, the way I've always been. "I'm just a guy with a business. I love to cook, and here I am. Love me or hate me. The number of butts in the chairs will let me know if I should stay or not, nothing else will."

"I like that answer, Nick. You're a good guy. Now, can you do one more thing for me?"

"You name it, Tanya," I said.

"Feed me. Please, I'm hungry."

We laughed together, then I excused myself and brought back our dinners. I had two plates of food, not knowing which she would like more. Turned out she liked both, so we shared each other’s meals. One was pulled pork with hush puppies and collard greens. The other was barbeque beef brisket with garlic mashed potatoes and gravy.

"No one will kiss me after eating these mashed potatoes. They are great, but wow, they are packed with garlic," declared Tanya.

"Don't forget now, I'm Italian. I love to kiss women, especially one that looks beautiful and tastes even better."

"Oh really? Wow. Aren't you romantic, Nick?"

I couldn't help myself. The moment took on a life of its own. I impulsively got up from my chair, walked over to Tanya, and gave her a soft, gentle kiss on her full, succulent lips. I didn't know if the move was too forward of me. Perhaps she would slap me, or run out, or yell, or…

"Can I have another one of those, Nick?" Tanya put her hand around the back of my neck and held me in place as she kissed me, this time sliding her tongue into my mouth. I couldn't believe we were making out in my restaurant, especially with some of my staff still hanging around. "Is it time for dessert yet?"

"I can go get it."

"That's not what I meant, Nick," replied Tanya, with sexy, dark, bedroom eyes.

"I see. I did make something special for you, though."

"Wrap it up and let's take it with us. I live just a few blocks away from here."

"I'm ready to go," I said, and we left the restaurant in a hurry.

This story appears in its entirety in We Love New York, available from Riverdale Avenue Books. Show some love for New York. 

We Love NY: A Romance Anthology to Raise Funds for Hurricane Sandy Relief