He smelled so good I could barely stand it.
“The kitchen is over here,” I said, as though this wasn’t obvious. The living room, kitchen, and dining room shared a space.
With Noah standing by and watching carefully, I made the batter for the crapes, telling him what I was doing as I did it. To my slight surprise, he was mostly just quiet and listened. I wasn’t sure why, but I expected him to be more arrogant, but instead, he was polite and receptive.
It was becoming clear I had misjudged him. Likely due to a combination of our flawed first plotting meeting and my overall impression of rich people as a whole. It wasn’t really positive, which I mostly figured stemmed from the fact that I didn’t have much money growing up. I would sometimes think about what I could have done if I had been born with money, but that usually just made me sad.
I showed Noah how to roll the crapes, a deceptively complex maneuver for which he seemed to have a natural skill, doing it nearly as fast as I did, with my years of experience.
Shepherding our delicate creations onto properly prepared plates, in the family tradition, we selected our spots at my small table. Noah rushed over to pull my chair out for me, gently pushing it back in as I sat down. I could feel his warm breath on my neck, sending shivers up my spine. The good kind.
I’m fairly sure my breath caught. I couldn’t hear it because of the pounding of my heart in my ears.
He moved with such smooth grace I couldn’t help but be in awe of him. Noah was a man who was in full command of himself. It was nice to see.
“I tell ya,” he said, after several bites of crape, “there’s nothing better than home cooking.”
I smiled. “You’re just saying that.”
“No, I just said that, and I meant it too.” He stopped and looked directly at me with his fork waving delicately in the air. “False modesty is not endearing.”
“Really?”
He nodded. “Hell no. I’ll take honest arrogance any day.”
I thought about that. As a child, my mother had drilled into me to never boast of my accomplishments. Listening to her had made me unsure about myself. I wanted to be proud of what I could do, and Noah seemed to think the same thing.
“That’s for your honesty.” I set one of my strawberries onto his plate. He immediately scooped it up and popped it between his sexy lips.
“An here’s some more—” He raised his pointer finger— “you could do a lot better than serving coffee at a cafe.”
I laughed. “Don’t I fucking know it. I wanted to be a chef but didn’t have the money for school. I had to settle for being a keen amateur. Drifting from place to place, going from job to job, trying to find where I belong in the world.”
A slight smile settled on his lips, and his blue eyes found mine. “Well, amateur does mean lover.”
“Does it?” I shivered again.
“The root word is amo, the Latin for love. Which is also the root of the French amour.”
“Let me guess. Linguistic major?”
“Minor. I majored in music.”
“No shit.”
“Not singing, obviously.”
“Obviously,” I agreed.
“I can compose piano pieces to make to cry, though.”
“Your welcome to try.”
“Is that a challenge?”
“Invitation.”
“Accepted.”
We shook on it and got back to our crapes, Noah managing to eat his slowly and actually savor the taste. I had actually seen people all but inhale them just to experience more of the flavor. It was really my grandma who was to blame. It was her recipe. I was just the messenger. After a sort.
“You know,” he said out of nowhere.
“Know, tell me.”
“Since you’re helping me for free, I could do the same for you.”
I sat back in my chair a bit and looked over at the sexy lawyer across from me. “I would love to know what that means.”
“I’ll be sure to tell you as soon as I figure it out.” He winked.
When we were finished with the crapes, we made the cookies. Noah, again silently observing, apparently taking in every step. Either that or he was just mesmerized by my tits. Either way, I had his undivided attention, which made me feel really special.
After eating some of the cookies, I put a portion into a Tupperware contain for Noah to take with him. Taking them happily — they really were addictive — he leaned down, so he could reach and kissed me. Not much, just a quick peck on the cheek, but it was still enough to send a jolt through me.
I had to brace myself against the door to keep myself upright after closing it behind him. My knees had gone weak, and my pussy was dripping wet.
Keeping my hand against the wall, I made it into the bedroom and flopped down on the bed, yanking down my skirt in panties in one, hard move, and flinging them halfway across the room. My mind was already fully submerged into a fantasy of what it would be like to sleep with Noah.