You requested to see me, chef?
Yes, I can close the door.
So, what's this about?
My attitude.
What about my attitude?
I think it's a bit misogynistic of you to assume that my attitude has anything to do with the fact that I'm upset about anything.
I don't think I'm being trained the same way the other male counterparts are.
Everyone treats me differently.
And I have just as much experience and just as much credibility, if not more.
I'm good. I know I'm good.
I don't need anyone to tell me I'm good.
And please, don't think I haven't noticed the way that some of these men look at me.
It's the big boobs, it's the short, needing help to reach the fucking top shelf every fucking time.
I don't need men's help.
I need my chef and my sous chefs to fucking teach me what's needed in this kitchen.
That's what I need.
So, if you aren't going to teach me, then I don't know what the fuck you want from me.
Watch my mouth.
Okay, that's rich.
Coming from you, considering the way I've heard you talk to others in this kitchen.
Show you respect.
Chef, I mean this with the utmost intent.
What would you like me to say?
Do you want me to what?
You're just like them, aren't you?
You see the big boobs and the pretty eyeballs staring up at you because you're all woo.
It's ridiculous.
You want me to go what?
All doe-eyed and say, yes, chef, I can take care of that.
Just teach me.
Teach me and I promise you I can be the best in this kitchen.
So here we are.
Are you going to do something about my smart mouth or what?
Whatever.
What do you mean?
Oh, well, chef, you're an attractive man.
I'm not going to deny that.
You know you're attractive.
That's why you've slept with so many of the waitresses.
They talk.
They talk freely.
We're still in the kitchen, chef.
You really should keep it in your pants unless you what?
You hoping they'll hear?
You hoping that what?
I'll spread my legs open for you and they'll hear you pounding me, making me cum,
and think that I've suddenly submitted, please.
You could fuck me sideways, frontways.
You could make me cum ten times and I'd still talk to you the same way in the kitchen
because you still need to fucking teach me my damn job.
But you know what, chef?
I'll make you a deal because clearly we've got some tension to work out.
So what do you say?
Yeah, here.
Let me just hop on this desk.
Door's closed.
I know you can hear everything that's going on.
They'll knock.
Come on, chef.
Let me just lift my skirt up.
Spread my legs.
Look at that.
I'm already wet for you, chef.
Don't you want to touch me?
Please, chef.
Show me what those hands can do since they haven't been teaching me shit in the kitchen.
You dive deep, huh?
And quick.
Is that all you've got?
You're good with your hands.
I'll give you credit.
It's part of the reason why I chose to apply to this kitchen.
Oh, fuck me.
Please, you can make me come when you want.
I still will talk to you however the fuck I want, chef.
Oh, fuck.
Did you just growl that I'm yours?
Is that why you've been so snappy, huh?
Fuck you and your hands.
It's them talking about me, isn't it?
It's them noticing me.
And you being all possessive and mad that they're looking at me like that.
Is that it?
Well, chef, why don't you show them who I belong to, huh?
Come on.
Fuck me, chef.
You know you want to.
Please, chef.
Please.
Fuck me.
I want you to come inside me.
Please.
Oh, so that for the rest of the day it's dripping out of me.
Please.
Oh, fuck.
Please.
Convenient.
Just you having a bottle of lube in your desk is quite hilarious, chef.
Oh, it's cold.
Thank you.
Oh, tingly.
Come on.
Don't worry.
I'm on the pill.
So, uh, breed me all you want.
I want it.
Please.
You do everything so aggressively.
Fuck.
Oh, God.
Yes.
Yes.
Keep going.
Oh, fuck.
Oh, yes.
Yes.
Yes.
Yes.
Yes.
Yes.
Oh, fuck.
Oh.
Let me just.
Oh, yeah.
Let me just touch my clit.
Oh, yeah.
Make me come.
Please.
Please, chef.
Oh, fuck.
Shit.
Oh.
Oh.
Oh, God.
Yes.
Yes.
Harder.
Oh.
Yes.
Yes.
Yes.
Oh.
In Thank you.
Oh.
In Yes.
In Yes.
In.
In.
In.
Yes.
In.
In.
In.
In In.
In.
Yes.
If I could do that, please.
Oh, yes.
Beasurer.
Beasurer.
Oh.
Yes.
Yes.
Oh, yes. Oh, fuck you. Oh, yes, I mean it. Oh, fuck, chef, please. Please, chef.
Oh, thank you, chef.
Oh, Jesus.
Well, um, that's, um, that was fun.
Let me just fix my hair. Um, do you have, um, ah, yes, water. Thank you.
Um, hmm? Oh, yeah, um, I bruised easily, don't worry. You didn't grip me too hard.
Um, I didn't expect to see this soft side of you. It's a little unexpected.
Doesn't change anything, though. So, pull up your pants. Wash your fucking hands. Get your ass back in the kitchen.
Because you still have things to teach me. And then after work, you can teach me more things in the bedroom. How's that, chef?
Sound like a plan? Good. Now get to work.
