"Look, alive people! I've got 4 number 2's on apps, 1 number 2 plat du jour, and 3 number 2's plat du jour!" The overweight chef bellowed, snatching the tickets from the machine as they were being spat out.
His commands were followed by a chorus of, "Yes chef!" From the small kitchen staff that began pulling plates from stainless steel shelves.
Lunch service was always the same commotion, especially on a Sunday. The staff would arrive at 8:00 am sharp, the dishwasher would bitch and complain about the mess from the night before, mise en place would commence and then it was onto chain smoking and coffee drinking until the first orders came through. It was during these smoke breaks that Cara would take the opportunity to chit-chat with her favorite line cook, Arthur. She had given up smoking over 4 years previously but, that didn't stop her from standing outside with the boys especially when she would see Arthur slink out to spark up.
What had started as an innocent work crush had escalated into an almost uncontrollable desire for the man. Cara was the only female in the kitchen and, as such, she had gotten accustomed to the generally sickening way the men she worked with would speak with one another but, Arthur was different. He never laughed along with the rest of them when they'd make a tasteless joke and he generally kept to himself. Hell in the almost 2 years she had been working there she barely even knew his surname. The mystery only added to his allure.
Cara stood elbow to elbow with Arthur as she garnished 4 plates with small amounts of mixed salad and various slices of Serrano ham. She had to reach past him to grab a handful of packets of butter from the open, tabletop fridge. He didn't move a muscle when she pressed herself to him, instead, he pressed back lingering a second before side-eyeing her.
"The Bretons and their salted butter huh?" She remarked playfully, dropping them one by one onto their respective plates before pushing them into the window and loudly ringing the bell.
"Sending the 4 apps chef!"
The chef grunted in response, he was a man of few words which suited Cara just fine. The sound of the ticket machine printing more orders reverberated through the now, loud and bustling kitchen. Cara swore that sound would haunt her until her dying day, sometimes at night when was halfway between dreams and wakefulness that sound would pulse through her head like a goddamn drill.
"6 number 1's on apps, 6 number 2's plat du jour, and 1 kid special! Valentin get your ass ready for desserts once those plates come back!"
"Yes, chef!"
Servers came and went throughout service, carrying stacks of empty plates and dumping them at the dishwashers station before loading their arms up with various entrées and occasionally picking fights with the cooks over which tables they needed urgently. The cooks would snap back but, by the end of service, everyone would be laughing and messing around, still giddy with post-service energy.
As lunch service was finishing up and the only things left to send out were a handful of desserts, Cara headed to the dish pit to relieve Théo of his duty. It had become a sort of ritual for them and Théo was always grateful for the break clapping a hand on her shoulder before heading out to smoke. Cara rolled up her sleeves and stuck her hands into the filthy water, quickly washing everything before packing it into the industrial dishwasher. The dish pit was dirty work but, at least here she could switch off and let out her anxious energy from another tough service. Cara allowed her mind to wander, her thoughts turning to Arthur.
They always worked at the same station and god forbid if someone tried to take his place, he always insisted that that was his spot in the kitchen and, he would not be switching for neither love nor money. She was so lost in her thoughts of rolled-up sleeves and strong forearms that she didn't notice the chef shouting at her to get the cutlery on for the servers. Cara huffed her discontent while dumping the plastic container and its contents onto a worn-out dish rack, before pushing it into the dishwasher and closing it. The machine was so loud that she didn't hear one of the servers screaming that the last customers had left as she began taking the back of house's drink orders. The server asked Cara if she wanted 'the usual' as she picked up the dish rack to bring out to the 'good' dishwasher at the bar. Cara smiled and thanked her as she toddled out, trying not to slip on the kitchen tiles.
Chef pulled his apron off and threw it into a laundry basket at the far end of the kitchen. "Clean up before getting blackout!"
"Yes, chef!"
Cara called the boys back in, there was no way in hell she was finishing the cleaning on her own. Arthur sidled up next to her at the dish pit, pulling her arms from the water. His touch sent tiny shocks of electricity up her arms.
"I'll finish up here if you wanna change."
It wasn't a question and, Cara was not going to turn down such a tempting offer. She smiled up at him, blushing despite herself.
"You sure?"
"Positive, there's not much left to do." He didn't return the smile but his eyes sparkled and Cara took the hint.
"I owe you a drink."
He looked her up and down, his gaze lingering on her middle where her apron was pulled tight. He nodded before turning back to the deep sink. His wandering gaze made her pussy throb, she'd have to make good on her promise. She balled up her apron and threw it into the basket as she began climbing the narrow stairs that led to the changing rooms and shitty showers.
"Hey! Cara the fuck, you don't want to help?" Cara turned to see her co-workers watching her go, the annoyance evident on their faces.
She snorted, "I'm sure ye are capable of getting on without me."
Pissed-off mutterings followed her until she closed the door to the changing room. Cara stretched pulling off her whites and stuffing them into her locker, that would have to be a problem for Tuesday. As much as she hated the showers she hated stinking even more. She grabbed the cheap bottle of soap she kept in her locker and her civies from her bag, before opening the shower room door and double-checking it was locked behind her. Once she was under the half-hearted spray of the shower she, once again, allowed her thoughts to drift to Arthur. She lathered up her arms as she pictured his arms and long torso in her mind's eye. His sleeves had been rolled up to the elbow during service and, it was a real challenge not to stare at his lean muscles as they tensed and relaxed under his motions.
She felt a familiar heat rise within her, starting in her toes, and working its way up before settling between her legs. She sighed tilting her head away from the water, doing her best to avoid her hair. Her hands found the smooth, softness of her stomach relishing the feeling of finally being clean after what seemed like a never-ending service. As she started on her legs she couldn't help but imagine how it would feel to have Arthur's hands on her body, gently exploring her tight physique. She mentally scolded herself as her pussy throbbed painfully from the images her brain was projecting to her. Arthur, pinning her against the staff room's lockers, grabbing her by her hair, and pulling his mouth to hers.
She felt an involuntary shiver ghost through her and, although the water was warm goose bumps began to rise along her flesh. Her hands trailed lazily between her legs, brushing over the lips before separating them and expertly finding her clit. Cara closed her eyes, completely submerged in her fantasies of rough hands and gentle touches. She stifled her moans as she drew slow circles over her clit, barely touching it, just enough to keep her in her own little world. She was abruptly startled out of her pleasure bubble as someone began knocking and shouting at her from the other side of the door. She retracted her hand from her pussy, feeling suddenly embarrassed even though nobody had actually seen her.
"Give me a fucking second!" She scolded turning the water off and drying herself as thoroughly as she could.
As soon as she was dressed she opened the door allowing Valentin to step in, a towel draped over his shoulder.
"There better be warm water left."
Cara rolled her eyes, "Don't be dense, I was in there for 5 minutes there's obviously warm water left." He didn't respond just slammed and locked the door behind him.
"Dickhead." She muttered pulling her socks and shoes on.
Cara took the stairs 2 at a time ready to get a little wine drunk, she didn't work tomorrow and planned to take full advantage of her small amount of freedom. The back of house had cleared out to the bar, all except Arthur who stood outside smoking a cigarette.
"That was a quick clean." She remarked stepping out into the warm spring air.
He snorted, "Quick? More like half-assed."
"As long as chef is happy that's all that matters." He hummed in response never meeting her eye line.
"Are you staying to have a drink? I don't know about you but, I definitely need one." She smiled up at him, hoping against hope that the desperation didn't show on her face.
He looked down at her finally making eye contact. "Well, if you're staying I guess I will too."
