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.
