After Hours: Black Lace Classics by Crystalle Valentino Page A

massaging lightly as she tasted the sauce and tasted him too. Micky was groaning soft curses and clutching at her hair when they both heard a slow tread on the stairs.
    ‘Jesus!’ hissed Venny, pulling back and hurriedly shrugging into her blouse. Micky reacted equally fast, popping his stiff toffee-coated cock back into his trousers and dropping the apron in place over it to cover the embarrassing extent of its arousal.
    ‘Turn,’ he said quickly while Venny fiddled desperately with her buttons and the footsteps kept coming closer. Venny turned around, and Micky adeptly refastened her buttons.
    ‘You’ve done this before,’ accused Venny.
    ‘Would you rather I hadn’t?’ Micky hissed in her ear, giving it a quick kiss before bolting around the desk and sitting down. When Neil appeared in the doorway they were sitting there, perfectly decorous, having a conversation about whether or not the caramel saucewas a good thing with the ice cream. Too heavy, perhaps? Maybe better for the winter menu?
    ‘You could be right,’ said Micky smoothly, as Venny looked up questioningly at Neil. Thank God he couldn’t tell how hard her heart was pounding. She might look a bit flushed, but that could be put down to the heat.
    ‘I’ve got all the vegetables and the sea bass and the sauces ready, Micky. You said you wanted to build the plates for the starters, didn’t you?’
    ‘Oh, right.’ Micky jumped to his feet and snatched up the little pot and the spoon. ‘See you later, boss,’ he said casually to Venny, and then he was gone.
    ‘Bastard,’ said Venny to the empty office. Every pulse in her body was thrumming away like a tightly drawn clutch of strings. She felt that if she didn’t get some relief, she might explode and spatter the walls with sexual juices. She thought of his hot, sweet cock and felt the trickle of her moist sex dampening her skirt.
    ‘Oh, hell,’ she moaned, dropping her head into her hands and closing her eyes tight shut. Think of something else, she told herself. Think of shopping. Suits. Tops. Sexy underwear. Crotchless knickers so that he could get at her so easily.
    No.
    Think of something else. Sanders. Drills. Hammer drills, big pounding machines.
    No.
    She thought of food. Another mistake: it took her reeling brain straight back to that delicious caramelsauce – and to his penis twitching in her mouth. Cakes, then. That only called to her mind Dani’s huge fake cake, out of which Micky was going to jump tonight. Naked and erect. She’d seen him erect, but she hadn’t yet seen him completely naked, and she wanted to. Suddenly she wanted to with a determination that astonished her. Well, she could. If she really wanted to.
    Oh, and she did, she did.
    Venny snatched up her bag and stood up. She grabbed her oatmeal linen jacket, which was draped over the back of her chair. Then she left the room and went downstairs and through the studded burgundy door to the kitchens.
    It was like a scene from hell in there. Heat hit her like a brick wall met at high speed. Steam billowed, flames flared, and in the midst of it all like some mad magician was Micky, issuing orders and sending his troops scuttling hither and yon to do his bidding as he worked, sweating, over plates of food – adding a little of this, a little of that, in some bewilderingly powerful alchemy that she had never seen Bill Thompson perform. The kitchens were buzzing with enthusiasm. And she hadn’t seen much of that under Bill’s rule, either.
    She swallowed, composed herself, and walked over to where Micky toiled, totally absorbed in the job.
    ‘I’m going to be out for the rest of the evening,’ she said to his back. He was crouching over a plate, spooning a little savoury jus around a sliver of jewel-coloured vegetable terrine. He added a small sprig of fresh basil from one of the new terracotta pots bulgingwith assorted herbs that he had asked Neil to buy, and paused to admire the finished effect.
    ‘Fine. We’ll