Back To School

The new school year is back in full swing. Whether it’s the small ones in grade school or the bigger ones in college, we all know someone who is in school right now. Perhaps they’re even your own children. No matter the situation, school is now in session!

 

Here’s a little story about a teacher – hope you like it…..

 

Hot For Teacher

        Most of the time it sucks being a teacher. Crappy income and lots of work that doesn't go away at the end of the school day are two valid reasons not to pursue this line of work. However, there are a few perks. My favorite one is parent-teacher night. Sure, I know plenty of teachers who absolutely dread spending hours talking to parents about why their child can't grasp basic math, can't read, or is a pain in the ass trouble-maker. But I put up with that for only one reason - women.

       I'm forty-one years old and have been a teacher for about fifteen years now. I taught the first grade for ten years and had the luck of fucking about a dozen young MILFs. Their ages usually ranged from twenty-five to thirty-five. Then, as I got older, I realized that I wanted to move on to slightly older women. So that's when I became a fifth grade teacher. Now the mothers range in age from about thirty-five to forty-five. Of course, there are some exceptions to the rule.

        I remember once -- during my stint as a first grade teacher -- when a woman of about fifty came in to meet with me. She looked pretty damn good for her age, so I asked for her number. She invited me over to her place, of course when I was supposed to be at work. It was a brilliant plan and I ended up fucking her all morning long, right up until school was dismissed. It wasn't until the next day that I found out that she was the child's grandmother, not mother. Guess that made her a GILF.

        I was counting on this year's parent-teacher meetings to produce some good, fuckable women.  Last year proved to be slim pickings -- only the third time in fifteen years that has happened. A hard-working, lifelong bachelor like me needs incentive to come to work. This was my night. This is why I remained a teacher.

        After I said goodnight to Lisa Coleman and her parents, Donald and Trudy, I looked at my schedule to see that I had only one more appointment scheduled for the night. It was Johnny Johnson's parents, whoever might show up. This had proved to be another disaster of a year. I couldn’t believe it was going to be back-to-back years of no mothers to conquer. I dragged my feet to poke my head outside the classroom, where hopefully my last appointment would be waiting.

        Walking towards me was a beautiful, tall brunette. She appeared to be six feet tall with legs that went on forever. This was mostly because she was wearing a short skirt. Not a mini skirt, but somewhere between a mini and a regular length. I'm no fashion expert, but I liked what I saw. She wore a blazer and looked very professional. I still couldn't take my eyes off the long hair, or the legs, or the…

        "Barry? Barry Howard? It's me, Leslie. Leslie Turner. Well, now it’s Johnson. I'm Johnny's mother."

        Leslie? Oh man, I haven't seen her in forever, at least since our college days. She was just as beautiful, or even more so, as when I had seen her last. "Leslie. Nice to see you again. Come in. Have a seat."

        Leslie walked in and made herself comfortable, sitting in the empty chair I set up beside my desk. As she walked by me, I smelled her hair and it brought back memories of yesteryear. "So, how have you been? It's been a while."

        "You know, Johnny said that his teacher this year was Mr. Howard, but of course I had no idea it was you. So, how is he doing?"

        I found it a little weird that she wanted to get right down to business. Maybe she didn't care for small talk or reminiscing with me. Maybe going down memory lane wasn't her idea of fun, so I figured I'd better just be professional. "Johnny is great. One of the best in class. No complaints at all, except one math test that he didn't do so great on. He's been getting B's most of the way, but last month we had a test and he only got a D. Not his best work, but I wrote it off as a fluke."

        "I apologize for that, you see…"

        "Oh, please, Leslie. No need for that. Johnny is great."

        "Thank you, Barry, but I still feel I need to explain. You see, Johnny's father and I got divorced last year. Since then, we've been fighting back and forth with custody rights and alimony. It's been hard on Johnny, but he's really doing his best."

        "I'm sorry, Leslie. I had no idea." But, I was smiling in my mind. She wasn't married anymore.

        "We're adjusting. Life goes on, you know?"

        "Looks like you're doing just fine. You look terrific, better than ever."

        "I see you still have that old college charm, Barry. It worked twenty years ago…"

        "I know, but now I'm just a school teacher in his forties and you appear to be some hot-shot business type that probably makes five times as much as I do.”

        "Don't sell yourself short. I have a pretty good memory. Just because we parted ways after school doesn't mean I wasn't thinking of you. We went to two different schools after college, but not two different planets."

        "Well, thank you for being kind, Leslie."

        "You’re welcome, although it's just not me being kind. You're a hard guy to forget. You're the kind of guy whose name a girl could accidentally scream out while having sex with someone else."

        What? Was that a confession? "Are you trying to tell me…?"

        Attention all parents and teachers. It is five minutes to eight. Please finish all meetings as soon as possible so our custodian can finish cleaning the classrooms for tomorrow's day of school. Thank you and good night.

        "Sounds like they’re throwing us out, huh," I said.

        "I guess that's my cue to go, Barry. It's been great speaking with you."

        "Same here," I confessed. "Hope we get another chance really soon." I had to get that out there. I don't know if that was a turn-off to her or not, but I just had to say it. It was the truth. Leslie had been a knock-out in college and twenty years later she was hotter than ever.

        I stood up and extended my arm, being polite. I always shook hands with the parents when they left. Leslie got up and took my hand but she leaned forward and gave me a soft kiss on the cheek. “I’m so glad I came tonight, Barry. I can’t wait to come again.”

####

        That night I had trouble falling asleep. I watched some awful movie on television trying to get Leslie’s image and words out of my mind. She was drop-dead beautiful and we had a relationship in our last year of college. It was great, but that was twenty years ago. Now she walks back into my life, this time as a school parent, but she's not the ordinary MILF. This wouldn't be a conquest like the ones in the past. She was different. She represented the longest relationship I've ever had with a woman. Sure, we were young, but we still loved each other – I could feel it. Maybe I'm wrong. Maybe it wasn't love. Maybe it was lust.

        I pictured her naked body in mind. She had long hair that draped over her shoulders, resting gently on her full C-cups. My eyes pan down over her flat stomach and travel to her brown patch of pubic hair. I can see her pink lips peeking out from the wisps of hair and she is wet. Her ample hips lead down to her long, shapely legs. I look at her, waiting for her part those delicious thighs so I can taste her love. She smiles at me, letting me know that she is ready. I tell her I love her, and want…

        "Shit!" I came all over myself – that hasn’t happened in years. Good thing I sleep naked. I rolled over and went to sleep. I'll take a shower tomorrow morning.

####

        Seeing Johnny the next morning in class was a little weird. It was Friday, so I hoped the day would pass quickly and give me a chance to not to deal with this situation for a couple of days. I almost felt like I had to be extra nice to him, or else he'll go back and tell his mother on me. Now that would be awkward. How would I handle that situation? I decided to carry on as normal as possible. When the day was over, Johnny started out of the room, but then suddenly stopped himself.

        "Mr. Howard? I have something for you from my mom. Sorry I forgot to give it to you earlier."

        He handed me an envelope. "Thank you, Johnny. Have a good weekend."

        I opened the envelope. Inside was a letter from Leslie which read:

        My Dear Barry, We have so much catching up to do, but I just wanted to be clear about a few things first. After college we parted ways, but I never stopped thinking of you or caring for you. After some time I started dating again, but I was always really busy with either school or work. I became an ad agent, which makes a good living, and that's where I met my husband Harold, Johnny's father. He was a nice guy at first, so I got suckered in, I guess you could say. It didn't last long and within four years we separated. He had been part of Johnny's life inconsistently and that's why I decided enough was enough. Last month the divorce was finalized, and as luck would have it, you're back in my life again. I don't know if you're seeing anyone or even if you're married, but just say the word, and I'll stop bothering you. Otherwise, I would like to see you again. Leslie

####

        It was late Saturday morning. I didn't want to seem too eager, but I read Leslie's note about a thousand times, and each time I read it I wanted her more. I couldn't worry about the past, just needed to focus on the future. I was a bachelor, a self-proclaimed life-long bachelor, and hunting down women for sex was my way of life. I used my job, as well as bars, the internet, the laundromat, and just about anywhere else. But maybe it was time to settle down. Maybe it was time to reconnect with the only real love I've had in my life. I know one thing for sure and that was I was getting as nervous as a schoolboy thinking about calling Leslie. I wanted to, heck, I had to, if I wanted to see her again. My palms were wet and my heart raced as I picked up the phone and dialed.

        "Hello," Leslie said in her perkiest voice.

        "It's Barry. How are you?"

        "I was beginning to think I scared you off."

        "No way! Not at all. Just needed time to think," I explained sincerely.

        "I understand, Barry. So, did I scare you away?"

        "I called, didn't I? I mean, I want to see you."

        "When?"

        "Now," I replied, followed by nervous laughter.

        "Wow. That's a good sign. I’ll tell you what -- Johnny is going out in about an hour, want to come over?"

        "Bet on it."

        Leslie gave me her address, even though I already knew it from my teacher files. It was the same way I knew her phone number, but I'm sure she realized that. I showered, dressed, and headed over to her house. I didn’t know if she’d want to sit and talk, perhaps to clear the air about her past and our past. Maybe it would be more like the future plans on how we would fit into each other's lives. We weren't college kids anymore. We were adults now, even though my heart still fluttered like it did twenty years ago.

        I arrived an hour later and was impressed by her home. It was a two-story, brickface, and looked expensive. I could only imagine what the inside looked like. Pretty good for just two residents. I rang the bell and waited for Leslie.

        The door opened, but no one was standing there. Okay, that was creepy. Was she hiding behind the door? "Hello?"

        "Enter, Silly," replied Leslie, who was standing behind the door.

        "Okay. What's wrong?" I asked.

        "You tell me." Leslie pushed the door shut. She stood there naked. She was even more beautiful than I had remembered. "I know it's a bit presumptuous of me to do this, but just in case you don't feel the same way about us that I do, I wanted to at least have one moment to remember you by."

        "What?" I was truly baffled. "What are you talking about?"

        "Just in case you don't want the same things I want, I'll always have memories of the good times we shared."

        "So, you want to sit down and talk about this?" I asked.

        "No way. I'm standing here naked, Barry. Right now I want to fuck you raw."

        My cock immediately strained in my pants, which were now being taken off by Leslie. She kissed me full and deep and she was certainly a woman on a mission. She had always been the aggressive type, especially during sex. That's one of the many things I loved about her.

        After Leslie got my clothes off, she grabbed me by my cock and led me to the stairs. I imagined we were going to her bedroom, if we could hold off that long. With her in front of me, I had a perfect view of her shapely ass and full pussy lips. I couldn't stand it, so halfway up the stairs I grabbed her around her ample hips and shoved my face between her globes. She accommodated me by bending over and allowed me to lick the full length of her glorious crack. I lick and sucked everything in front of me and Leslie was one wet MILF. I lay across the stairs so she could straddle my face, which she happily obliged. Holding onto the banister, Leslie dipped her wetness into my mouth. She seemed to be dipping a tea bag into a hot cup of water, gently squatting over my face for me to suck the juices out of her. Believe me, twenty years later, she was flowing like never before.

        Leslie repositioned herself so now she squatted over my rock-hard cock. She held onto the banister for leverage and bounced on my fuck pole. She worked up a steady beat, as I grabbed hold of her hips and helped her feel me harder and stronger. I felt Leslie's pussy salivate over my manhood and knew she must be close to an orgasm.

        "Oh, Barry. Take me upstairs. Fuck me on my bed."

        I continued to impale her but I could tell her legs were giving out, so I finally slowed to a stop. Leslie climbed off me, sat down on the stairs, and gasped for air. I stood in front of her with my cock standing at attention just inches from her face. Leslie leaned over and opened her mouth, slowly taking the full length of my love into her orifice. She closed her warm lips around me and I felt like I would blow at that moment. It felt so hot, so good to have Leslie's mouth on me once again. I thought I’d spend many nights alone dreaming of this and how I wish I could have this experience again.

        "Oh, Leslie. I’ve missed you so much." I didn't know how she would react to hearing that at this precise moment, but I spoke from the heart. I don't know if it was love or just lust, but I felt like a new man, reborn even, for having found her again. "How do you like the taste of your own pussy?"

        Leslie responded with a muffled moan. I knew she like the sound of that, but she still pulled her head back to withdraw my cock from her mouth.

        "Please take me to my bed and fuck me, Barry. I want you inside me. Hard."

        I bent down and scooped Leslie into my arms. I carried her to her room, crossed the threshold, and laid her gently down on the bed. I lay beside her, looking into her eyes, gently stroking her full pussy lips. "So, Leslie. What can I do for you?"  I asked.

        Leslie giggled. "Move in with me. I mean, with me and Johnny. I know it'll be weird at first, but please say you'll think about it."

        "Have you talked to Johnny about this yet?"

        "Not yet, but I've been thinking about this since I saw you again," confessed Leslie. "I know what I want, Barry, and it's you. I don’t want to let you slip through my fingers again. I can't change the past, but I know what I want in my future. Yes, it'll be rough or weird even, but I'm sure we'll be able to handle it."

        "I agree, Leslie. I just don't want you to wake up one day and decide that you hate me. That maybe you made a mistake and resent me for it. Plus, Johnny is growing up. He'll end up bigger than me and probably kick my ass some day." I couldn't help it, I had to laugh at my own stupid attempt at a joke.

        Leslie smiled. "Listen, you. Keep playing with my pussy while I tell you this. Ready? Keep stroking it. That's it. Don't forget to rub my clit now. Good boy. Barry, I love you."

        "Oooh, baby. I love you, too." I leaned forward and kissed Leslie. Her mouth parted, as we searched each other with our tongues.

        "Mmm, Barry. You're going to make me come. Please. Please go inside me. I want to feel you inside me."

        I stopped rubbing Leslie's clit and climbed on top of her. She pulled her knees up towards her chest and waited for me to enter her. I took my throbbing tool in my hand and guided it into her hot pink cavern. She was so wet. I just let myself absorb her juice, her heat.

        "Come on, Barry. Give it to me. Please. I want to come with you inside me."

        I started rocking my hips, pumping myself deep into her waiting pussy. I slowly picked up the pace, as Leslie's breathing became labored. She panted and begged for me to do her harder and I was only so happy to please my lover. She started to reach her orgasm, as I began to feel my own churning from my balls. I got tighter and tighter, as Leslie tightened up her vagina muscles, clinging to my cock. She screamed in orgasm and I was all but done.

        "Ohhh. Leslie, I'm going to shoot off. Where do you want it, baby?"

        "Come in me, baby. Go ahead, let me feel it. Fill me up, baby."

        That's precisely what I did. Sometimes you feel as though you're coming and sometimes you feel like you're having an orgasm. This, this was an orgasm. This was me being with the woman I loved more than I have loved anyone before or since. This was me trying my best to please her, to make her understand how much I loved her. I shot about a million shots of my love juice into her. It felt like it was going on for hours and when I was done I had to admire my own work. I saw that her beautiful pussy could not contain it all, not this time anyway. Maybe it had been that long, too long.

        Now that we were together there would many more days like today. Of that, I was sure, and I couldn't wait to see what the future held for us.

Writers Write

 

Everyday life, like work, school, children, even Facebook can prevent us from writing. Whether it’s 1000 words or 10,000 words, writing something, anything is better than not doing it at all. So, when life gets in the way just remember – writers write.

Write something – doesn’t matter what it is. For example, after years of writing Erotica I had a chance to write a brief fantasy piece. I was told to write something under 500 words, a weird scenario, and that’s what I did.

For better or worse, here it is, because writers write!

 

RAT PROBLEM

"Harold! HAROLD!"

        "Fuck do you want?" Harold mumbled under his breath from his easy chair in the living room.  She always had a knack for interrupting him when he was trying to relax.

        "Where are you, Harold?" Mildred asked again from the kitchen.

        "In the living room, dear. Just trying to relax and watch the ball game." Harold said something else under his breath, but it was incoherent.  He went back to his game.

        "Better come quick. I think we have a rat in the basement."

        No response.

        "Harold! I said there's a rat in the basement!"

        "Cunt!" Harold said it loud enough for his wife to hear, but didn't care. His game was on and she had the audacity to interrupt him. Harold got up and went to the kitchen.

        "Better take the flashlight from the drawer. I think the lights are out."

        "Yes. Dear." Anything to shut the old bitch up.  He intended to make this a quick job.

        Harold opened the door to the basement. He felt the wall for the light switch, flicked it, but nothing happened. He held the flashlight, but it wasn't on yet, since he had enough light glowing from the kitchen.  There were only about a dozen stairs to walk down.

        "Okay, here I go, Mildred."

        His wife didn't respond. Instead, she just watched him slowly descend the darkened staircase. He missed the huge grin spreading across her lips.

        Harold made it down the first six or seven steps, with the flashlight in hand. Then it happened. He stepped down but nothing was there - no floor, no steps, nothing. Harold lost his balance and dropped about five or six feet. He landed in a pile of broken glass and wood, probably from the missing stairs.

        Shards protruded from his face, with cuts all around his eyes and cheeks.  He felt a burning sensation, like he was being clawed.  One large piece of wood stuck out of his neck. The pain was unbearable. Harold screamed for help, but Mildred remained at the top the stairs. She could barely see him now, since it was so dark down in the basement. She almost wished she had another flashlight in the house.

        Harold gripped the splintered piece of stairs with his bloody hand. He made the error of pulling the wood out of his neck. It was lodged in a major artery , perhaps his jugular.  The blood began squirting out, almost comically. Harold screeched like a chick in a bad slasher movie, and Mildred began laughing out loud.

        "You sound like a little bitch, Harold," taunted Mildred.

        The blood kept streaming from his body until he lost all consciousness, which seemed like an eternity but was probably less than a minute. Soon, Harold was dead.

        Mildred stood at the top of the stairs for a moment and pondered the situation.

        "Rat problem solved." Mildred slammed the door to the basement.

Summer of Love

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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