Yan tugged on the bookmark, and flipped his cookery book open. He read the page title aloud, "Quiche Lorraine". Since he had recently become eighteen years old, his parents had decided that he was old enough to be left to his own devices for the weekend and Yan was faced with the task of cooking for himself. He had decided in advance that he was going to eat well, and was determined to produce a quiche that looked as perfect as the glossy image within his parents' book.
Running his finger down the list of ingredients Yan noticed something that made his heart skip a beat. Towards the bottom of the list were the twin words, "Gruyère cheese" written in italics. A quick sort through the fridge confirmed his fears; the only cheeses available to him were rich blue varieties, these would not make a reasonable substitute for the gruyère called for in his cookbook.
Yan was disappointed, but determined not to let this setback prevent him from completing his recipe. He briefly entertained the prospects of making the Quiche with blue cheese, or with no cheese at all. It was at this point when Yan was reminded of the very well stocked pantry in the house on the other side of the hill. "I bet they have plenty of gruyère", he thought out loud. It was thus that Yan set out over the hill with the intention of acquiring a slice of cheese from his neighbours.
Walking at a brisk pace, Yan arrived after slightly shy of ten minutes walking. His neighbours' house was large, intimidating, and faced away from the direction of Yan's arrival; meaning that his walk came out in the garden, where he could see into a large empty kitchen through the partially open back door.
Yan inched up to the door, and tentatively knocked on it. Since the door was open this action was awkward and produced a barely audible tap. Yan braced the door against his shoe, and rapped on it, harder this time. The result was a slightly louder noise. There was no response.
After standing outside for half a minute, Yan ventured forth into the kitchen. It was expansive, with two large countertops populated with a variety of different cooking implements. A selection of draws and cupboards suggested a wider range of implements might be concealed within.
Not counting the door he had just entered through, Yan was faced with two doorframes. One of these was filled with a large oak door, which he assumed lead to the house proper. The second doorframe was empty, and lead into Yan's intended destination: the pantry.
Yan tiptoed into the pantry, from which vantage point one look was enough to spy the object of his desire, a large and completely intact wheel of gruyère cheese.
Yan briefly exited the pantry. He picked up a large kitchen knife from the table, returned to the cheese and had just finished making the first cut into it when he heard an alarmingly bold, but distinctively feminine voice ring out, "what are you doing with that cheese".
Startled, Yan lurched round to see the eldest daughter of the neighbouring household standing right in the middle of the kitchen, with a clear view of his attempted theft. She was tall, buxom and had dark wavy hair and Yan could not for the life of him remember her name. He did recall that she was a couple of years older than him, and whenever the two families had interacted, he had found her aloof yet intimidating.
"So, what are you doing", she snapped. Yan tried to explain, but all that came out were the words, "I was just", before he stammered and found himself unable to continue.
"You were just passing by, I suppose", the girl interjected, "and thinking that nobody was in, you decided to help yourself to our cheese". Yan's tongue felt like it was made of lead, he found himself completely unable to interject, although it did occur to him that the truth was hardly and better, he had been in the process of stealing the cheese.
The girl marched up to Yan, she stood alarmingly close to him, so close that he could smell a faint sweet musk from her perfume. "Do you know how we deal with thieves around here", she snapped. And with that she grabbed him by his curly blond hair, dragged him into the kitchen, and thrust him face down over one of the workstations so that he was bent at the hips.
In one fluid motion, the girl thrust her fingers down the back of his trousers, curling them around his belt, and yanked down, so that his pert teenage arse was exposed. She reached out for the first implement available to her and found a wooden spatula. Placing her left hand firmly on Yan's head, to pin him against the table, she gripped the spatula with her right hand, raised it into the air, and using all the force available to her, delivered a blow to Yan's right buttock.
The sudden sharp stinging sensation quite literally took Yan's breath away. He gasped for air. This was an entirely new experience for him, and it came as quite a shock.
