Jen was horny.
There was no other way to say it. She was really turned on, and needed a release. The problem was she was a reality contestant on a cable cooking show. She had three roommates, also contestants, and she had fucking cameras on her all the time. So, she really couldn't find an opportunity to get off.
Earlier that day, she had not been horny. She had been focused on making the perfect meal for the judges. It had been so intense and he was so concentrated on her making that dish that nothing else in the world existed. For her, being in the kitchen was being in the zone. When there, nothing else existed, just the ingredients and the cookware.
She had been embroiled in an elimination challenge that she thought would either get her kicked off of the show or establish her as the frontrunner for the reality competition, which would yield her $100,000 in starter money for her own restaurant.
When the judges had explained the requirements for the competition, she had an immediate vision of what she should do, and she knew it was risky, but she couldn't help herself and she couldn't talk herself out of it. She got to the kitchen, and her competition disappeared.
She whirled around like she was dancing, a dance with food. Nothing else mattered. Nothing else existed.
But once she completed the meal, the world and the pressure came back to her like a punch in the face. Then came the feelings of inadequacy and insecurity. She saw what the other contestants had created and started feeling a lot of doubt--as well as regret for putting herself out on the limb with the boldness of her dish.
As she waited for the judges to come back with their decision she sat in the pantry with the other contestants sweating bullets and feeling the weight of the walk-in freezer on her shoulders. She couldn't look at the other contestants and just felt the extreme pressure along with hostility.
She was hostile at the judges for the constant insensitive cruelty. She was hostile at the other contestants for being competition and at most of them for just being ignorant and obnoxious. She was hostile at the cable network for their constant invasion of her privacy. And most of all, she was hostile toward herself for signing up for the damn thing.
But deep down, she knew that she lived for this. She lived for cooking, and she thrived in competing with the best in the world. But it was just this awful waiting period between judgment and execution that was just the worst.
Finally, one of the judges came in! She came in to announce the names of the chefs the judges wanted to see for selection of the best dish. She rolled off the names, and Jen was the last one. "Oh My God!" she thought. "They liked it!"
She tried to contain her excitement out of consideration for the other contestants who were not named and might even be eliminated earlier and quietly followed the judge to the judge's room.
Now the tension was different. She no longer felt the weight of the possibility of elimination on her shoulders, but now she really wanted to win. She was a competitor, and even though she had been doubting the merits of her dish mere moments earlier, now she was extremely proud of it, and truly believed it was the best one.
She stood in front of the judges as they talked about flavor profiles and other nonsense just waiting to hear her or someone else's name announced as the winner.
She just stood there staring at the table the judge's were sitting at and trying not to lose it. Then she heard her name.
"Jen. You are the winner."
It didn't really register. She had to replay the words over again in her head a couple of times to comprehend what the judge actually said.
"Holy shit!" she thought. "Did she just say I won?"
She tried to contain her excitement in front of the cameras, but she failed. She jumped out and hugged all four judges, practically squealing. She tried to be conciliatory for the other judges standing there too, but she was really just too excited.
It was all a blur until she got back to the shared room she had with three other contestants. The initial elation of winning finally faded away, and she was left with the reality of winning and the urge to fuck.
She sat on the bed, desperate for an orgasm, while her other roommates sat around talking about the stupid competition. That didn't matter anymore. She had won, and food was the last thing on her mind. Now she just wanted a fucking orgasm.
She thought about jilling off in the bathroom, but the walls were so thin and the insulation on the door was so shitty that she knew her roommates-and the fucking tv crew in the room--would hear her.
"I'm going outside," she announced.
