Page 45 of Brutal King
I opened the refrigerator door. Not much in there; a jug of orange juice, some yogurt, sliced process cheese, half a head of lettuce and three apples.
“What do you girls eat?”
Pulling out my phone, I mentally made a list, then went to the page of my favorite grocer and ordered everything I would need to make a delicious breakfast.
The food arrived in just under fifteen minutes and I got to work. Soon the room smelled of fresh butter, toasting bread and savory eggs with oysters. I was going to knock her off her feet.
I knew that oyster omelets were a traditional dish from Taiwan, but I added my own personal touch, and, with any luck, she would beg me to let Ginger have the recipe.
With the omelet staying warm in the pan, I prepared the table, setting it with two plates, silverware and stemware in which to offer her a mimosa.
Eager to feed her my imaginative concoction, I went to her door, knocked lightly then opened it.
“Wake up, sleepy head. I made you br... Oh, my...” My hand immediately went to my aching crotch as the sight of her gave me an instant and raging hard-on.
“Kat,” I whispered with unrestrained longing.
Her body, so perfect in every way, was laid out on her bed. She was sound asleep, her lips in a childish pout. Her luscious legs were tangled up in the sheets while her perky breasts were bare, staring at me... calling to me.
If she woke up and saw me there, staring at her... what would she say? Would she invite me to her bed?
Or would she call the police?
Yeah, that was the more likely scenario.
I backed away from the door, gently closing it behind me. Once closed, I knocked more loudly.
“Kat,” I called through the door. “Breakfast is ready.”
Pressing my ear to the door, I heard light stirring then headed to the table to wait for her. Moments later, the door creaked open.
“What did you say, Kobe?” Kat said as she came out. “Did you say break...? Oh, my God. What is that smell? I know that smell.”
She entered the dining area wearing a simple red and blue t-shirt dress with white pockets... and still no bra.
“Is that...?” She sniffed the air then looked at the plates on the small table. “Oyster omelet. Oh, Kobe. I can’t remember the last time I had an oyster omelet... and it smells so delicious.”
“Well, I certainly do hope that it tastes as good as it smells.” I pulled back a chair for her. “Get it while it’s hot.”
She sat down and looked at the omelet with hunger. “It looks perfect.” Looking skeptically at me, she added, “I didn’t really think you knew how to cook.”
“Well, try it before making any sort of assessment.”
She giggled, a sound that was music to my ears. I wanted nothing more than to make her laugh, to make her cry with laughter.
Picking up her fork, she poked at the omelet. “I can’t believe you made this for me. I barely remember how an oyster omelet tastes.”
“I have to admit that I added my personal touch to it.”
“As you should, Kobe. That’s what this academy is all about; learning how to turn an old recipe into something new.”
I held my breath as she took a bite.
What if she didn’t like it? Of course she would. What if it turned out horrible? What if my personal touch wasn’t the right touch?
The fork-load of omelet, with a fully intact oyster, entered her mouth. She closed her lips, slowly chewed, no doubt assessing the various flavors that tickled her palate. She chewed and chewed, then closed her eyes as if she’d reached nirvana.
“Oh, Kobe,” she said as she filled her fork with another bite. “This is delicious. I really have to say. I didn’t think you had it in you. I really thought you were just riding on your father’s coattail. But this... This is even better than what I remember having in Taiwan. What did you put in here?”