Her first day back at work was a Saturday. Sugar had been so eager to return to the restaurant, but soon she realized that it was difficult getting back into her old routine of being the responsible manager and owner after spending three days at home doing nothing but being miserable, eating delicious chicken noodle soup, and watching television in her bed.

The day was excruciatingly long and grueling because three employees, two kitchen staff and one waiter, called out sick after catching the very cold she had just gotten over herself. So, she alternated between helping in the kitchen and waiting tables all throughout the day.

Around seven o’clock, she was absolutely exhausted. Mallory, who had arrived to the restaurant not long before, surprisingly offered to take over the restaurant so she could go home and rest. She reluctantly accepted the offer. However, on her way out the door, she discovered why her baby brother was so eager to take over as acting manager for the rest of the evening as a group of seven beautiful dark-skinned women sauntered into the restaurant lobby and told the evening shift receptionists that they were friends of Mallory who had a special table reserved for them. Sugar was too tired to go back and chew Mallory out for being sneaky, so she made note to do so the next day.

After suffering through nearly an hour of rush hour traffic, she finally managed to make it home not too long after eight o’clock. She plucked off her high heels before drudging her sore feet into the kitchen to retrieve a bottle of Moscato from the fridge. She uncorked the bottle with a corkscrew and pondered on whether to get a wine glass or drink straight from the bottle. Being too lazy, she decided on the latter.

As she journeyed to her bedroom, she took deep sips of the crisp bubbly dessert wine before she put the bottle down onto the nightstand and stripped down to her bare skin. She rummaged through her closet for an extra-large royal purple graphic t-shirt with a design of a white wolf on it. She went over to her dresser to fish for a pair of sherbet orange cotton panties and slipped them on. She had tamed and styled her hair back into a bun before returning to work, so she wrapped it in a purple and lime green silk scarf to keep it fresh and intact.

Finally, she plopped back down onto the bed and reached for the wine bottle, taking another gulp.

The sound of muffled chimes filled the air along with a vibrating sound as her cell announced an incoming text message while it was hidden inside the belly of her purse. She retrieved it and read the message.

Maybe Answer: Back to working hard, I see. Saw your car in the parking lot when I was driving by earlier.

Sugar: You were just driving by? I’m impressed that you didn’t come in to finally check out the competition’s menu.

Maybe Answer: Oh, I was very tempted, but what I want ain’t on the menu.

Sugar: And what do you want that’s not on the menu?

Maybe Answer: Every single inch of you.

Sugar had been in the middle of sipping more wine when she got that text message and nearly choked. She coughed a little and cleared her throat as she recovered. Her body was thoroughly heated and she didn’t have a fever to blame now. Deciding to change the subject, she typed him a text asking what he was up to.

Maybe Answer: Home. Bed. Comfortable.

She smiled at his answer. Her head a little lightheaded from the wine and her willpower was loosening because of it. She typed back jokingly.

Sugar: So, what kind of PJs do men like you wear to bed? LOL

A few moments passed.

Maybe Answer: (photo attachment)

Sugar widened her eyes at the photo he had sent her. It was a tilted wide shot of his tattooed body as he rested in his bed. He was no doubt naked, but his navy-hued bedsheet rested dangerously low on his hips, revealing a yummy treasure trail that was begging to be kissed and licked. He grinned sexily up at his camera, his spare arm tucked behind his head. The picture looked like an invitation to do something naughty and fun and she was aching to take him up on it.

Maybe Answer: Take a guess, honey.

She chewed hard on her bottom lip as she drunk in the photo while she took a deeper gulp. She put the bottle down and sent him another message.

Sugar: Nice…

Suddenly, her phone vibrated and rung simultaneously as an incoming call came in. It was him.

“Yes?” She very surprised at how well she managed to answer in a calm voice.

“Just nice, huh?”

She smiled, holding back a giggle. “There you go trying to fish for compliments again.”

“You’ve said your piece about me. Now, I wanna see how nice you look tonight,” Chef said.

“Sorry to break it to you, but I look absolutely terrible,” she returned as an attempt to discourage him from asking what she knew he was going to ask.

“I think that’s for me to decide,” he stated. “Now go on and send me a pic.”

Sugar scoffed. “You’re bossy tonight.”

“Please, send me a pic,” he corrected in a huskier tone that washed over her like hot water. She closed her eyes and bathed in the sound.

“Fine.” She gave in, hanging up the phone.

She situated herself onto the bed and angled her phone above her. A bashful woman biting her bottom lip filled up the cellphone screen. She snapped the picture and analyzed its flaws for a long moment, contemplating on whether to retake a picture or send it as is. She sighed heavily and sent it to him. Her heart pounded in her chest as she waited for him to response—to react.

After about five minutes, her phone rang again.

“Wow, that took a long time,” she answered the phone teasingly. “Did you have to cleanse your eyeballs after witnessing such a horror?”

“A man has to take time to truly appreciate beauty.”

She laughed a little in a bashful way, but felt odd about the compliment. Though Chef freely dished them out to her, sometimes, she felt like they were nothing more than lies. Coming from a marriage where she was consistently referred and treated as unattractive, it had become a habit of hers to determine the pure worth of Chef’s compliments as truthful or false.

“You look real comfortable over there. More than tempted to climb out of my bed and make my way to yours,” he said.

She teased. “In your birthday suit?”

“Mm, if that’s what you want,” he chuckled.

“That would be,” she paused, “interesting.”

“Just interestin’, huh?”

Sugar rolled her eyes, a smile spreading across her lips. “Yes, just interesting.”

“Well, since we’re on the topic of interestin’ things. Would you be interested in accompanyin’ me to a boxin’ match next Friday?”

Sugar bit her bottom lip, a strange ripple of anticipation vibrated through her at the prospect of witnessing him dominate a boxing ring.

“So, you want me to watch you get beat up and lose, huh?”

“I’ll no doubt get a little banged up, but I ain’t gonna lose,” he assured.

She arched an eyebrow at his confidence. “How are you so sure that you’re gonna win? Is it one of those stacked matches you were telling me about?”

“No, not a stacked match. I don’t partake in scams. I fight fair and square. This upcomin’ match, however, I ain’t got no choice but to win,” Chef replied, a smile in his voice. “How else am I gonna impress you?”

Sugar tossed her head back to let out a pure burst of laughter. “You’re too much for me.”

“And you’re just enough for me,” he returned, the color of his voice darkening. “So, will you come?”

Her breath hitched softly. “Well, I’m not sure...I can’t always trust my brother to manage the restaurant.”

“Can you trust him for this one night?”

Sugar cocked her head. “Well, it depends. What’s in it for me exactly?”

Chef chuckled slightly. It was low and rumbly. The sound of it made her shiver.

“Do you have somethin’ in mind?”

“It wouldn’t be much fun if I told you, now would it? You’re a very intelligent and creative man. I’m sure you can think of something,” she encouraged.

“Hm,” Chef trailed off pensively. “I have an old friend who owns a private yacht charter business. So, how does 'cruising down the river at sunset while we enjoy a dinner, champagne and each other' sound?”

Sugar closed her eyes, her mind vividly painting a scene of a romantic dinner date on a private yacht against gorgeous sunset. She melted at the thought for a few moments too late, but snapped out of it when she realized that broke one of her rules.

“That sounds very romantic,” she said, clearing her throat, “which is very much against what we agreed upon.”

“Luckily, I have a Plan B that doesn’t break any of your rules,” he paused, “though I do hope you reconsider the yacht dinner. I think we’d enjoy ourselves.”

She bit her bottom lip for a moment. “I’ll think about it, but don’t get your hopes up. Now, what’s your next proposition?”

“After the match, I’ll take you back to my home. I’ll crack open a beer for me. Uncork a bottle of wine for you. We’ll drink and chat in the livin’ room then I’ll ask you to spend the night. You’ll say yes,” he described blow-by-blow, his baritone timbre becoming smokier and every single word he spoke made her heat up more and more. “We’ll go to my bedroom. I’ll peel off every stitch of clothin’ you got on real slow ‘cause I like to take my time. You can help me take off mine too or you can lay on my bed watchin’ me undress while I watch you right back; while I’m thinkin’ I gotta be the luckiest man alive to have a goddess like that in my bed. How is my proposition soundin’ so far, Sugar?”

Sugar breathed out shakily, “It’s alright.”

Her hand slid down the length of her body, but stopped just below her bellybutton.

He chuckled sexily before he continued, “Would it be alright if I joined you in bed next then? Would it be alright if we took our time kissin’ and explorin’ each other’s bodies?”

“That’s fine,” she gulped, inching her hand closer towards the hemline of her extra-large purple shirt.

There was a smile in his voice again. “Then that’s what we’ll do then. I want to see and touch all of you and I want you to see and touch all of me. Then I’ll make my way down your beautiful body to taste that sweet pussy of yours so I can make you cum again on my tongue since we were interrupted the last time. Would you like that?”

“Mm hm,” she hummed longingly as she lifted her shirt to slip her fingers into her panties. She squeezed her eyes shut as she brushed her fingers against her swelling clit.

“I want to taste you too,” she admitted in a breathy whisper as she sunk two fingers into her pussy.

There was a moment of silence. “Is that so?”

She nodded her head, not realizing that he couldn’t see it.

“Are you thinkin’ about suckin’ my dick while pleasin’ yourself right now, Sugar?”

She stilled her thrusting fingers as his accurate prediction, but she couldn’t bring herself to say anything. The question made her burn with shame for being caught red-handed.

“No need to be shy, baby. I ain’t gonna judge,” Chef assured huskily. “Are you usin’ that toy you got for your birthday?”

“No,” she confessed.

“You should,” he encouraged darkly. “Have you ever used one before?”

“No,” she confessed again, her voice raspier than before.

Chef then said, “You work so hard, Sugar. You should treat yourself to a good orgasm. Shame I can’t be there to help. To watch.”

Sugar pulled her fingers from her panties and reached over to her nightstand, sliding out its drawer. Inside the drawer was the rabbit vibrator. Pulling the phone down for a moment, she slipped her orange panties down her legs and flung them to the floor before she reached for the rabbit vibrator. She stared at it curiously as she returned her phone to her ear. She gazed at the toy’s embedded control panel near its base and pressed the power button. The toy vibrated wildly in her hand and she stared at it in shock, clicking the power button to turn it off.

Chef questioned with a pinch of amusal, “Test run?”

Sugar pursed her lips, annoyed that he knew her too well throughout knowing much about her at all.

She said nothing as she attempted to settle comfortably on the bed. She glided the silicone shaft up and down her wet slit before she pulled it inside, the toy’s ‘rabbit ears’ nestled perfectly on her clit. She gasped at the unfamiliar but delicious sensation of having her clit pressed into while her pussy was filled up. She pressed the power button again and gasped once more much louder as the powerful vibrations hummed into her.

“Oh, god,” she moaned, arching her hips off the bed.

“That’s right, Sugar,” Chef coaxed in her ear from the other end of the line. “Enjoy yourself. You deserve it.”

She thrusted the toy in and out of her. Sounds of pleasure tumbled from her lips while Chef took it upon himself to continue telling the rest of his plan for next Friday.

“You’ll be on top of me, bouncin’ on my cock. Showin’ me exactly how you want to fuck. Settin’ the pace and the rhythm. Usin’ me until you cum on my cock. Would you like that, Sugar?”

“Yes,” she moaned.

“I knew you would,” he said. “You know exactly what you want. That’s what I love about you, honey. You and me are perfect for each other.”

She moaned agreement, plunging the vibrating toy in and out of her faster and harder as her ‘deserved’ orgasm steadily approached.

“I only wanna make you happy, Sugar,” he said. “The question is will you let me?”

She cried out, “Yes, I will.”

A mischievousness wormed its way into his words. “And you’ll let me have complete control over how I’m goin’ make you happy?”

“Yes, Chef, yes!” She was so close.

So, so close.

“Cum for me, Sugar. I wanna hear you scream my name.”

She obeyed him, screaming his real name as she came. Soon, she laid in bed weak, sated, and out of breath. She slipped the vibrator out of her and turned it off, dropping it somewhere beside her on the bed.

“You...tricked...me,” she panted.

“Into screamin’ my name? I accept full responsibility, but I have no regrets. You have the sweetest scream I’ve ever heard. I want to hear it over and over again.”

She shuddered at his words before she got herself together. “No, I mean you tricking me to giving you ‘complete control’ over how you’re going to make me happy.”

A rumbly chuckle caressed her ear canal for a moment. “I accept full responsibility for that too.”

“That’s foul, Chef.” Sugar frowned.

“You’re gonna take back your promise then?”

She clenched her jaw as she thought about it. Obviously, he had something up his sleeve and she was curious to see what he had in store. The fact of the matter she knew for certain that her heart was closed for business. He knew that, but he wanted to try romantic things that dwelled beyond the boundaries of her original conditions, then the only one who would end up hurt would be only him if she entertained the thought and walked away.

For the time being, she would indulge him for the simple fact that he was intoxicating. When she was around him, she felt lightheaded, drunk, and utterly warm.

The way he looked at her.

The way he touched her.

The way he treated her.

She was unable to deny that Miles Thibodeau was the realest man she had ever met. He was comfortable in his own skin. Their lives mirrored in many ways. Both were divorced from estranged ex-spouses. Both suffered through tragedies involving children. Sugar had never stepped foot in the military, she and her siblings grew up as military brats of a Marine father. She witnessed the challenges that Marines—soldiers in general—endured for the sake of their country. Though she knew very little of Chef’s military background aside from what her mother shallowly told her, she still respected him for his service. On top of all that, he was incredibly handsome with a mature swagger that was unavoidable. And his thick Louisianan accent was like a plump raspberry atop of a yummy cheesecake drizzled in white chocolate.

All these things about him made her want to stick around, but she had to remind herself—and him—that she wanted adventurous fun out in the world and physical fun in the bedroom. Nothing more, nothing less.

“No,” she decided. “I won’t take back my promise, but I need to think of a good punishment for your trickery.”

“Oh, I look forward to it,” he returned.

She cocked her head as she laid amongst her pillows.

“Were you turned on at all while I,” she trailed off.

“Were? Still am,” he corrected.

Sugar blinked in surprise, but thoroughly aroused again. “Oh, I…see.”

Damn, she wanted to see.

“Do you want to see?”

Sugar exhaled through her nostrils in frustration at the fact that it felt like he had tapped inside of her mind and read her intimate thoughts all throughout the night.

“If you want to show it to me, I won’t stop you.” She attempted to be nonchalant.

The phone call ended abruptly.

In the meanwhile, Sugar went got the sex toy and went to the bathroom to wash it in the sink. She hated to admit it, but Odette did buy the best birthday gift. However, Sugar was still a little grossed out that her baby sister took the time out of her day to go to a sex shop somewhere in the city and browse through the erotic-filled aisles in search of the “perfect” birthday girl for her “sex-depraved” big sister.

Shaking her head at the thought, she dried off the toy with a hand towel and returned it back to its new home: the inside of her nightstand drawer. After closing the drawer shut, she plopped down onto the bed and picked up her cell. Her eyebrows rose as she realized that she had gotten a text notification that Chef sent her a message around the time she was busily washing the sex in her bathroom sink. She must not have heard it the notification sounds over the rushing faucet water.

Clicking to the string of text message exchanges between the two of them, her jaw dropped and her eyes grew quite large at his latest message.

It was a photo of his long thick very erect cock lying on his defined belly.

“Geez,” she gasped as she ogled the picture.

She reached for the neglected bottle of wine she had left on the nightstand and took three deep, deep, deep gulps.

She didn’t need to be up close and personal to know that Chef was very well-endowed compared to the only other man she knew in that kind of way: her ex-husband, Lance. She had never been one for being a critic of a man’s ‘size’ because Lance was her first and only during all eighteen years of marriage as well as up to this very moment. She knew Lance was on the smaller end of the scale because he often kept slipping out of her when they were intimate with each other. Because she loved him and wanted him to please him, she researched positions to ‘accommodate’ his size after a few years, but he only liked two positions, missionary and doggy, and he refused to compromise. Over time, she realized that it was futile to try different things with Lance. He liked what he liked and he refused to budge.

She nearly jumped out of her skin as Chef called her back.

“Did you have to cleanse your eyeballs after witnessing such a horror?” He repeated the same question she teasingly asked him earlier, but his timbre had very little humor to it.

“No, but I did have to drink some wine to help me process,” she admitted, placing the bottle back onto the nightstand.

“Too much?”

“Wine? No,” she said, shaking her head.

“Not wine. The picture, honey,” he clarified. “Was it too much?”

Sugar chewed on her bottom lip for a moment. “You mean the context of the picture or the size of the, um, thing within the picture?”

He chuckled out a low, rich sound. “Answer both.” 

“Well, it’s a very, uh, compelling picture. I’ve never gotten one like it before, so it definitely sets the standard,” she answered nervously, “and as for the latter question…well, it’s, um, wow.”

“Is it safe to say that ‘it’ meets your approval?”

Sugar then blurted out, “Well, I would have to see it face-to-face for an accurate rating of my appro—oh, my god. I can’t believe I just said that.”

She slapped her hand over her mouth, absolutely mortified. The wine was going straight to her head and making her lips feel loose.

“Don’t be ashamed, Sugar. We’re grown adults. No need to hide what you want to say. You know I don’t hold back.”

Boy, did she!

“I’ll work on it,” she assured.

“Good,” he said.

“I should probably hang up the phone now, so you can handle your, um,” she paused, raking her brain for a proper word, “business.”

He teased throatily, “Thanks for bein’ so considerate.”

“I aim to please,” she returned.

“I look forward to see that face-to-face,” he countered.

Sugar rolled her eyes, unable to hold back her smile. “Good night, Chef.”

“Sweet dreams, Sugar.”

After the call ended, Sugar was too restless to sleep. She turned off her bedroom lights and switched on her television with the help of her remote control, switching through the channels.

She came across an intimate scene in an NC-17 rated movie on a premium network you can only find deep side your satellite dish listings. It was between a trucker and housewife-turned-hitchhiker. They stumbled clumsily into a cheap motel room, kissing each other hungrily while yanking off articles of clothing. The two strangers made love to each other desperately. Sugar sat up against her pillows and headboard, drinking from her bottle of wine completely enthralled by the lengthy erotic scene. When the two lovers laid tangled in bedsheets in engaged in playful tired pillow talk, Sugar had reached the bottom of the bottle.

Sighing heavily, she put the empty bottle on her nightstand and slithered underneath her bed covers. Turning off the television, she laid there in the dark lost in thought over Chef, what occurred tonight, and what would potentially occur next Friday.

Sugar reached for her phone and unlocked it, navigating to her text conversations with Chef, her eyes immediately falling upon the very last thing he sent her. She smiled eagerly at the photo.

She had repeatedly learned the hard way that Chef was mischievous, but next Friday he was going to get a taste of his own medicine.

She plugged up her cell to its wall charger and snuggled comfortably into her bed.

Chef wished her sweet dreams and after her eyelids closed, her mind swam with plenty.

All of them revolved around revenge.