As Barbara left her office that day, she was more than ready for the weekend.
Her boss, the dumb ass, had been even more of a prick than usual. He was so demanding, nothing was ever right, it all had to go his way and, he was a stupid bastard as well.
He was one of those administrators who, because he had a university degree, thought he knew everything. He was bright, Barbara could actually admit to herself, but he had absolutely no people skills and either pissed off or turned away too many clients. But, because he was the boss’s son, he was there for good.
Barbara couldn’t even remember how many of the stupid things he did that she had related to Wayne over the past year. She had come close to quitting so many times it was laughable.
Fortunately, the half-hour drive home usually worked to release some of the tension that Barbara always left the office with. Her old Daytona still ran like a charm and as she shifted through the gears and listened to the throaty exhaust, she popped in a Metallica CD and simply enjoyed the drive.
She parked her baby in the driveway of the condo she shared with Wayne, next to his truck, and went inside. The place was completely dark and she wondered if Wayne had walked down to the pub at the end of the street. It was his favourite watering hole and they often went there to relax after a week’s work.
“Wayne,” she called out to the dark interior. “Wayne, are you here?” When he didn’t answer, Barbara cursed under her breath. She had hoped he might have whipped up one of his culinary delicacies for dinner. The beauty of living with a chef was that he did all the cooking – and could he cook. He was constantly surprising her some exotic dish or another. Better yet, he was quite a dish himself, she always thought.
She tossed her briefcase in the front closet, kicked off her shoes, threw her coat on a hook and, feeling like a little something to eat, walked down the hall to the dining area. Thinking as she walked that she might scramble some eggs, she noticed a lone candle burning on their dining table. So, Wayne was home.
Barbara turned to look into the living area and noticed he wasn’t watching TV. But, as she turned back to the kitchen, some Verdi began quietly playing. A match flared as Wayne lit a candle he was holding in the living room.
“Hey babe,” he called as he walked toward her. “How was your day?”
“Like crap, as usual,” replied Barbara, noticing that Wayne was wearing his white chef’s hat and apron. As he moved toward her, she noticed that that was all Wayne seemed to be wearing. How interesting, she thought, as he handed her a cool glass of Riesling.
“What’s this all about?” she asked as she took the glass of wine. “Aren’t you a little underdressed for cooking?” As she looked at him, the candle he held illuminated his square shoulders and threw the face she loved into a sidelit relief and glinted off his glasses.
“Not really. I got off work a little early because I wanted to fix you something special. I’ve been home for a couple of hours.” Taking her hand, Wayne directed her to a chair at the dining table, then pulled out a chair for her. “Take a load off and relax, I thought you might have had a lousy day.”
Sitting, Barbara sipped her wine as Wayne walked into the kitchen. She couldn’t help but notice that the hat and apron were indeed all Wayne was wearing and she gazed appreciatively at his ass and muscular legs as he walked away from her. From this view, other than his hat, the only clothing that covered him was the tie of his apron. Well, well, she thought, as she ran her fingers through her long brunette hair, maybe this day won’t turn out so bad after all.
With Wayne in the kitchen making kitchen noises, Barbara downed her wine and poured another from the bottle on the table. Slouching back, she put her feet up on the chair opposite her, under the table and relaxed. Eyes closed and picturing Wayne’s bum cheeks walking away from her, Barbara found herself becoming a little turned on.
“Ready for something special?” Wayne called from the kitchen.
