NAKED Housecleaning
Erotic Fiction by
Kendall Swan
Smashwords Edition
Romantic Words Publishing, LLC
RomWords@gmail.com
Copyright © 2009 by Kendall Swan
Also by Kendall Swan
NAKED Parent Teacher Conference
NAKED Housecleaning
NAKED Neighbor
NAKED Cheerleader and other stories
The Sexual Memoir of Emma #1: A Whole New World
Grand Pleasure Station: Exposed! (Feature Article Series)(New Erotic Fiction)
This book is a work of fiction. All names, characters, locations, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination, or have been used fictionally. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, locales, or events is entirely coincidental.
This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you're reading this and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
All rights reserved.
No portion of this book may be transmitted or reproduced in any form, or by any means, without permission in writing from the publisher, with the exception of brief excerpts used for the purposes of review.
Copyright © 2009 by Kendall Swan
Cover Art © 2009 Romantic Words Publishing, LLC
Chapter 1
She slid the small bite of veal around her square plate to sop up the orgasmic sauce. Gastrogasm. That’s what it was. The savory sauce with the tender meat, both perfectly seasoned and cooked to perfection and about to slide into Aniston’s mouth onto her tongue—this was what she lived for. She had the best job on the planet. She got to taste exquisite food for a living.
Many publications actually paid for her witty declarations about a chef’s ability or lack thereof. Often times it seemed odd to her that this was the case. Doesn’t everyone enjoy a delicious meal, after all? But apparently her tongue was like no other. She had been able to name the individual ingredients of a dish or sauce since she was a child. And now she was getting paid for her talent.
“There are worse ways to make a living with your body,” her mother used to say. Her mother was proud and disappointed of Aniston at the same time. She had always wanted her daughter to go to culinary school but Aniston didn’t want the lifestyle of a chef. Eighty hour work weeks, no time to partake in the sensual joys of life. That was not Aniston’s style.
“I take it you like the veal,” Archer said. He had an amused look on his face as he stood over Aniston. His crisp navy blue monogrammed chef’s jacket did not cover his large pecs very well. And his light scruff and mussed dirty blonde hair exposed his disdain for details in life he deemed unimportant. He looked like a wild animal of some kind trying to be contained for viewing in the civilized world.
“I can get you another plate if you like. There’s really no need for you to lick that one, although that is something I would I pay to see.” All chefs at this level had gigantic egos. They had reason to. But Archer Cummings had shot to the stratosphere of the culinary world like a heat seeking missile locked onto its target. He was the newest force to be reckoned with in the New York restaurant scene and he knew it. Or he wouldn’t be teasing Aniston the way he was.
“Mr. Cummings, the dish was…delicious,” she said. Archer snorted and the general manager who had been hovering around Aniston all evening gave out a loud sigh of relief.
“It almost makes up for the disastrous appetizer. You should have put the word ‘lemon’ in capital letters in the description because that’s all I could taste.” Aniston paused after she had thrown out her barb. She had wanted to prick him but not stab.
Normally, she would have no problem stabbing a chef’s ego, especially one the size of Archer’s, but she couldn’t deny the heat she felt when he was around. He was younger and in much better shape than most chefs. And his passion for culinary excellence was intoxicating. It was like he lusted after the same things in this world that she did.
Archer gave her an angry look that said ‘how dare you.’ Obviously, he was not used to being put in his place. Aniston stood her ground with her eyes, sitting passively while staring at him with intensity. The energy between them, filled with anger as it was, was palpable. She waited for a response from him that never came. Instead, he turned on his heels and stormed back to the kitchen.
Aniston felt a little bad for bruising him that much but she supposed it was good. This way, nobody would be able to see her obvious attraction to him. She didn’t want her readers to think she’d gone soft.
She waited for the dessert course and was disappointed when it came. It was a crème brulee that was obviously hours old if not days. “He’s pouting,” she thought. She couldn’t believe his nerve. Did he not understand the stakes? Was he that naïve? He clearly did not understand the power she had over him. Or the power he has over me. But he could never know that.
Disgusted with his immature behavior, Aniston got up from her table to leave. The general manager darted over with an apologetic look on his face.
“Ms. Monroe, please do not leave. He’s temperamental. You know chefs, how they can be. Please, sit. I will take care of this,” he implored.
“No, no. It’s quite alright. The service has been amazing. Thank you. But I must be going.” She grabbed her purse and quickly spun around to leave before the GM could argue with her anymore. It was late. She was annoyed and just wanted to get home, write up the review, and relax in bed—maybe with her vibrator. She could hear raised voices in the back as the hostess held the door open for her to exit.
The air was crisp and cool but not cold. She liked the feel of it on her skin. It was helping to cool down her heated state. Between her anger and attraction, she’d been feeling uncomfortably warm in there.
The restaurant and Aniston’s apartment were both in the Lower East Side. She had only to walk a few blocks before she was home. She went inside poured herself a glass of cabernet and decided to take a shower while mulling over the review. Peeling her clothes off felt as if she were peeling away her stresses. Her naked body gleamed under the track lighting in the bathroom of her modernized apartment. Her nipples were naturally quite red and became erect as she rubbed her hands over her breasts.
She thought about Archer and desire rose up inside. She was angry at him for putting her in this position. She liked him and didn’t want to hurt his career the way she would have to now. It was a shame, really. All of that talent in the kitchen and yet, the boy can’t even behave.
Aniston stepped in her steaming shower and began her usual washing routine. She felt her soapy hands glide over her skin and imagined they were his. She imagined she could feel the hard muscles of his body against her softness. She was in great shape thanks to working out but she did love food, also. So there was an extra five pounds that she didn’t think she would ever get rid of. She wasn’t that worried, though. She still looked great. And she swore three of the five pounds had gone straight to her breasts.
She reached down to clean between her folds. The hot and sticky slickness from her pussy contrasted with the hot wetness of the water raining down all around her. Thoughts of Archer’s cock exploring her wet pussy lips before finally filling her up took over Aniston’s mind. She rubbed her clit with one hand and fingered herself with the other. She had wanted to wait until she was in bed to do this but her body had other plans.
She imagined him pushing her up against the shower wall, the cold tiles shocking the skin of her stomach and cheek. He would pump his hard cock deep inside her from behind, thrusting harder and harder each time. She would almost be lifted up from the pressure and the pain would be exquisitely sweet. He would reach an arm around and massage her clit as she was doing now. His throbbing penis would hit her G-spot with amazing accuracy and his rubbing of her bud would grow rougher.
Aniston was now banging her clit and violently shoving her fingers in and out of her slick entrance. She was nearing the edge now. Her pussy muscles hungered for something more to grab onto than just her fingers but her mind was making up the difference. Thoughts of him squeezing her breasts and twisting her nipples were enough to put her over the edge. Waves of pleasure swept through her body as she peaked.
Her clit rubbing and fingering slowed as her orgasm tapered off. She opened her eyes and laughed at what she had done. She was so hot for Archer, she couldn’t even wait until she was in bed. She finished the rest of her shower rituals and put on her satin pajamas. She went to grab her book and phone before she relaxed in bed. The review could wait until morning, she thought.
When she reached into her purse for her phone it wasn’t there. Confused, Aniston began taking out the contents to find it. Worried, she began mentally retracing her steps. Like the proverbial light bulb above the head, the realized in an instant that she had left her phone on the table at the restaurant.
Chapter 2
“Great,” she thought. Just what she needed. She had been trying to make a dramatic exit to chastise Archer for his behavior and now she would have to go back. All she could do was hope the late hour meant that only the bus boy doing the dishes would be left and maybe the GM. Probably not Archer. He was the star chef, after all.
She looked down at her satin pajamas and decided against changing. She would just throw a trench coat on and flip flops. No need to change clothes for the busboy. She grabbed the coat and her keys and headed out the door. The streets were not very crowded in the city that never sleeps because it was a Tuesday night. Her neighborhood was full of hip new restaurants, used bookstores, and a low key bar where “everyone knows your name.” Once the restaurants closed, there wasn’t a ton of late traffic.
She reached the restaurant and the front door was locked. She knocked loudly and pressed her face against the window to see in. Nobody was in the dining room but there was still a light on in the kitchen. She was banging on the door now hoping a busboy would hear.
Finally, the kitchen door opened and Aniston’s heart beat harder as she saw Archer crossing the dining room to let her in. He had on a thin white t-shirt, jeans, and an apron. The shirt did a weak job of covering his body. His hair was even more mussed giving him a look sexier than before. If he didn’t have the apron on, he would’ve been just a normal, hot, twenty-something New Yorker. That would have been enough in Aniston’s mind. But the apron… the apron is what put her over and ignited the lust in her once again. He was like a man in uniform, a culinary uniform.
Her juices had begun flowing again between her thighs. She became aware of this just as Archer reached the door and she reddened with embarrassment.
“Ms. Monroe. Didn’t get enough of my food? Want to experience more delectable perfection that is my cooking?”
“I’ve had quite enough, thank you. I need to get my phone.”
“Ah, yes. It’s in the office. Follow me.”
They were snaking their way through the tightly packed tables with chairs on top in the medium sized dining room. Before they reached the kitchen door, Archer turned and casually said, “You know, Ms. Monroe, you really should password protect your phone. You have some racy pictures on there. Where was that nude beach? Mexico? France? I couldn’t tell.”
“You looked through my phone!” She stared at him in amazement. She should have figured he would be so rude, but the intrusion angered her nonetheless.
“Like I said, you should password protect your phone.” Aniston shoved her way passed him forcing her body to rub against his to get by. She felt the hard muscles she had been imagining while masturbating less than an hour earlier. This turned her on but did not dampen her indignation. It was her turn to storm through the kitchen door.
She pushed through dramatically to reach the bright and airy kitchen. The dining room was packed tight but the kitchen was spacious. “How did he pull this off?” she muttered under her breath.
“Because I’m me,” Archer replied. Aniston hadn’t meant for him to hear her. She was growing more frustrated with him and with her body by the minute. If he would just stop talking. She didn’t want to be so turned on by a man that was such an arrogant ass. But she couldn’t help it.
She looked around for the office, spotted it, and marched toward it. Archer grabbed her arm before she could reach it and swung her around to face him. Too surprised to react, she stood there as he pulled her body against his and pushed his lips against hers. They were soft but the kiss was firm. His tongue crept inside her mouth to explore. The wetness of his kiss caused her pussy to surge with lust. It was as if he was speaking directly to her body against her mind’s wishes. She wanted to make him stop, knew she should. But she also wanted to melt into his kiss and let the heat between them simmer up to a boil.
She pushed his chest away from hers. Clearing her head was difficult because her breaths had become shallow.
“I can’t do this. It’s not right.”
“Why not? You’ve already written the review, right? You’ve skewered me and burned my reputation to a crisp, no? So what’s the problem?” Aniston stood, still in his embrace and sheepishly looked to the ground.
“I wasn’t going to burn you. Merely singe.” Archer winced, though still holding her hips against his. She could feel the growing bulge beneath his apron and jeans.
“Wait, so you haven’t written it, yet? That’s great!” he exclaimed and immediately began kissing her passionately. One of his hands tugged the belt of her coat causing it to come undone. The other cupped her ass cheek reverently.
Aniston found her hands still on his chest but not pushing away. She was swept up in the excitement of the moment. She knew this was exactly what she should NOT be doing. But that was only fueling her desire. She wanted to be bad, to let this hot, young chef take her right here in the kitchen and earn a good review from her. She was tasked with judging his skills, she rationalized.
Archer pulled away and her coat slipped open revealing her peach satin pajamas. Her hard nipples were unmistakable under the thin fabric. He cupped both her breasts and moaned.
He grabbed her hand and pulled her to the prep table. It was eight feet by four feet of cold metal in the back of the kitchen. There were pots and pans hanging from hooks high above it and a slender shelf running across the middle three feet above the surface.
“This is gonna be fun!” he exclaimed, a twinkle in his eye. He flashed a mischievous smile that summed up his entire personality in one look. He propped her up on the prep table, carefully avoiding pushing her too far back where she would hit her head on the center shelf above it.
“What are you doing?” she asked as Archer ran over to the stove and put the saucepan full of sauce that was on the back burner onto the front one that he had fired up. He whisked the contents quickly as it heated and then he grabbed a spoon and poured the sauce into a ramekin and brought it over to Aniston.
“Try this.” He dipped the spoon in the sauce and slowly slipped it in her mouth, watching her face intently for a reaction. “I was working on it when you knocked. After your comment, I figured it could use some improvement.”
She shut her eyes and began the natural process of experiencing and decoding the flavors and scents that lay on her tongue. It was a lemon butter sauce like the one she’d had earlier. But the lemon was mild this time. She could taste the shallots, tarragon, and sauvignon blanc whose subtle flavors were allowed to blossom this time around rather than be smothered by the lemon. She opened her eyes and smiled.
“Much better. Why didn’t you serve that this evening? With that and a decent dessert, you would have had a homerun,” she said.