Fate works in mysterious ways. Earlier this week I was pondering what charity I should select for this month, when I saw a Facebook post from an old friend recommending Courageous Kitchen. This is a really creative organization that works with poor, at-risk children to improve nutrition, life skills, language skills and self-confidence—by running cooking classes! The organization was founded by people from the US, but is currently focused on helping kids in Bangkok, Thailand, especially children of migrant workers.
I’ve always loved to cook. I got started cooking seriously when I was only seven. My mom had severe pneumonia and I had to help my dad put meals on the table for the family, including my two younger siblings. At one point, my husband and I had a floor-to-ceiling bookcase full of cookbooks. We did some purging before moving to Asia, but we still have a long shelf of our favorites.
Anyway, the classes run by Courageous Kitchen are both fun and useful. Kids get the chance to practice English and to eat great food, all in the context of learning a skill that could lead to better work opportunities, or simply more independence. Go explore their web site: you can book cooking classes for adults or with the kids. You’ll even find some delicious recipes!
As usual, I’ll donate one dollar to Courageous Kitchen for each comment I get on this post. So don’t be shy!
Meanwhile, I have a hot and spicy excerpt from my cooking themed ménage erotic romance, The Ingredients of Bliss.
One sexy French chef. One kinky American TV producer. One ambitious Chinese gal who thinks she wants them both. The ingredients of bliss? Or a recipe for disaster?
“You’ve got nothing to hide now.” With his lanky frame, mussed hair and crooked grin, Harry almost looked like a teenager. A very horny teen, considering the substantial erection bobbing hopefully at his groin. He flipped back onto his side and fixed me with a slightly fuzzy gaze. He was irresistibly cute without his glasses. “Everything’s out in the open.”
“But it’s all so—complicated!” As usual, my objections began to melt in the warmth of his smile.
He danced his fingers up my outstretched thigh and my pussy clenched in anticipation.
“On the contrary, I think this considerably simplifies the situation—Ms Wong.” Etienne’s voice was deferential, but I read a mirror of Harry’s mischief in his expression. “I serve you. You serve Harry. Each of us gets what he or she wants.”
“There’s no more need for secrets, love. Or for surreptitiously administered enhancements to the libido, either…” Harry slipped a fingertip between my moist lips and grazed a fingernail across my clit.
My annoyance paled next to the flare of pleasure kindled by his touch. Before I could clamp down to hold his hand in my crotch, however, he’d snatched it away.
“Oh no!” I groaned, fighting arousal and disappointment. “You told him…?”
“I had my suspicions in any case. It doesn’t matter. Your methods might have been dubious, but I’m grateful for the results.” Etienne glanced down at the livid marks from my beating, a set of parallel strips leading up his lean thighs toward his rearing cock. “I might never have had the courage to act on my desires if not for your—um—intervention.” His voice held quiet pride.
“You don’t have to be ashamed or embarrassed,” Harry added. “All we want—both of us—is to satisfy you. To please you and make you happy. Can’t you just accept that?”
Harry hooked an arm around my neck and pulled me down into lush kiss. His tongue was assertive as ever, yet I caught a hint of uncertainty in his manner. Under his brashness, he worried that I’d reject the solution he and Etienne had worked out. If I did, would I choose him, or the suave, glamorous chef?
I relaxed and let him plunder my mouth, offering reassurance via my physical surrender. His hands roamed over my body, visiting all the sensitive spots he’d discovered in our months together. There was no pain now, only bliss, pouring from him into me.
Warmth pressed against my back. I smelled vanilla and thyme. Etienne’s fingers joined Harry’s, tracing along the top of my corset. He stroked the tender flesh under my arm, making me shiver, then let his palm wander down my side to the curve of my hip. His uncharacteristic boldness increased the thrill of his touch. You’ll be sorry, I thought, giddy with desire, as Harry continued his hungry kisses. I’ll trash your butt until you can’t sit down.
Etienne knew he’d be punished. We both knew that was part of his motivation.
Only part, though. I felt the hair lifted off my neck, the moist, gentle pressure of Etienne’s lips between my shoulder blades. The eloquence of that simple gesture almost brought tears to my eyes. I eased my lips away from Harry’s, beaming him a look I hoped was full of love. Then I swiveled to offer my mouth to Etienne.
The chef accepted my kiss with the eagerness of a starving man. He opened to the probing of my tongue, letting me drink my fill of him. I tasted the walnut mousse he’d sampled earlier at L’Auberge de Francois-Martine and the Courvoisier he’d used to wash it down. Under it all, I caught a hint of some half-bitter flavor that reminded me of rainy autumn afternoons in Jardin les Tuileries. As I kissed him, I realized I’d been craving this since the first day he’d graced me with that haughty smile.
While his mouth was subservient, his hands became increasingly more brazen, palming my breasts and thumbing my nipples, then sneaking down to tease my lower lips. Meanwhile, Harry was busy unlacing my corset. I hadn’t appreciated how much the garment had constrained me until he managed to slip it off, somehow without breaking the lip-to-lip connection between Etienne and me.
I paused to draw in a lungful of the sex-scented air and looked from one man to the other. Had Harry minded my kissing Etienne? Did Etienne think I was rejecting him for Harry?
Both of my lovers wore broad smiles. Relief washed over me. The last vestiges of guilt evaporated. And I was too horny to be embarrassed.
* * *
Don’t forget to leave a comment! Every one helps Courageous Kitchen serve more needy kids.