The Chefs Daughter Pt 01

The restaurant was inauspiciously named 'Desi Delights'. Ironic. The sign out front was garish; the menu was laminated and the carpet was stained. Kyle had a difficult time getting any of his co-workers to go based on looks alone. The trick was to simply get them through the door. Because the smells inside were out of this world.

Name an adjective for good food and you could smell it in there. Aromatic, pungent, spicy, effervescent. Every single one of his employees had seen the place from the outside and thought it a dive. And within two minutes of sitting in that restaurant their stomachs already started to devour itself.

Kyle was running out of people to bring with him. He'd gone through all the senior managers, and was now down to assistants and service reps. As the COO of the company that he'd started with his friend Jeff, it was difficult for any employee that he invited out for lunch or dinner to turn him down. Kyle prided himself on being the exec that actually cared about everyone - Jeff was the brains and Kyle, the heart. But 'Desi Delights' didn't inspire a lot of confidence at first glance. That is, until people got inside.

Now Kyle was sitting down with Bill and Tom from the marketing team, ostensibly to go over a new campaign for the next fiscal quarter. Bill and Tom were frankly embarrassing themselves. They were trying to pitch the idea, but with the paneer, the naan, the biryani, and the vindaloo wafting up from the table in front of them, they were trying and failing to stuff their faces while being taken seriously at the same time.

Kyle savoured the simple butter chicken and basmati rice in his bowl. He closed his eyes and thought back to the first time that he'd eaten it here.

Right on time, up came Raj, slapping his best customer on the back.

"Mr. Douglas, I see you've brought some new faces. Very good, very good," came Raj's very clear but very accented voice. "Mata makes it especially for you I think," said the older man, referring to the butter chicken in his bowl.

Kyle introduced the owner to his two underlings and they grudgingly paused their gorging to complement the man and make small talk.

But Kyle had stopped paying attention. He turned to the kitchen where a young Indian girl was helping her grandmother, the chef. She smiled and nodded at her grandmother's instructions and turned his way, catching his gaze. She saw him staring at her and stared back for that brief captured moment before smiling, blushing with embarrassment and scurrying off, her long hair flowing behind her.

The food in Kyle's plate was the most delicious thing he'd ever put in his mouth. Now, it tasted like cardboard because Kyle had something else on his mind...

Dessert. A delicacy that was most definitely not on the menu.

***

The floor was stained. The place looked like shit. But he was so desperate for good Indian food he had to take a chance. Everything in L.A. was just a little too...west coast. The air was awful and everything smelled like shit. He missed Indian food from actual Indian people like they had in Toronto. For a Canadian, L.A. was like breast implants. It looked nice - sometimes it even felt nice. But in the back of your mind you knew it wasn't real.

He apparently had come in before the Chef had been ready to start the lunch run, and she had voiced her displeasure in very vocal Hindu from the kitchen. The under-chef and supposed manager of this dump, Raj, was about to show him out. Kyle wasn't going to take no for an answer. He put a hundred dollar bill in the man's hand and said that he's expecting the Chef's best stuff. Raj's eyes went wide and he scurried to the kitchen to seal the deal.

The smells started and were getting pretty strong. And pretty...comforting. Pretty inspiring. After 10 minutes, they were glorious. He felt like he wasn't in L.A. anymore, like he was somewhere real, somewhere with real food. His stomach was killing him and just when he thought that he couldn't take it any more...

"Hello..." came the voice to his side. It was feminine yet husky, suggestive yet shy. Sultry, without intending to be. He turned and looked up from his phone and saw a big bright teethy smile. Huge bright cheeks. Light brown skin. A pointy nose. Large rimmed glasses. She wore a red and brown sari that made him wonder for a moment if he wasn't actually in India. She was young but already very curvy for her age; she was trying to hide her bust but could only do so much wearing a sari. She bowed/curtsied and set the food on the table and the combination of the smell of the food and the smell of her perfume short-circuited his brain for a second. For a second he thought he was high.

"Enjoy!" she says, a little louder than was appropriate.

She retreated and he looked at her scamper away. Then he turned to the food and did something that he hadn't done once in the whole year that he'd lived in L.A.

He took a deep breath and inhaled.

***

He had been remorseless. He looked at the 4 empty dishes on his table and a note of sorrow went through him. The naan, the paneer, the butter chicken. He couldn't even guess how many Indian restaurants he'd been to his life, but he'd be hard pressed to find 5 of them better than what he just ate. He was so hungry that he basically inhaled most of it before that moment of clarity and introspection came and it occurred to him: this shit is really good. Like, 5 star-good. He should have taken his time, he thought wistfully, in case the Chef just had the best day of her life and he'd never eat like that in L.A again.

"Hi, there," came the soft and husky voice once again. He looked up and smiled this time, a genuine smile. She was even prettier than he remembered. Actually, she was fairly lovely. No, no, actually now that his stomach was full and he'd actually had a good meal in L.A., he really looked at the girl and it occurred to him, she was fucking incandescent. She smiled down at him, asking if he had enjoyed his meal.

"It was out of this world, Miss. I can't thank the Chef enough." Grateful that he was satisfied she started to clear the table. Kyle pulled out another hundred bill and held it up. "Please...for the Chef."

"Oh, no...I couldn't..." she began to protest.

Kyle wouldn't take no for an answer. "Please. Please. Give her my thanks as well."

The girl looked at him warily. Then she nodded her head and accepted, bowing quickly and whispering her thanks.

Her little ass trapped beneath the sari shifted up and down, side to side as she scurried into the kitchen. There was a shriek, the clatter of pans and within a few seconds, the girl emerged again, scurrying with the bill in her hand.

"My Grandmother, is the chef," she began, shaking her head. "She can't accept - you already paid..."

Kyle fished out another bill and stood taking the first bill from the girl's hand. He marched across the floor and strode confidently into the kitchen.

An old Indian woman with long braided grey hair wearing what looked to be a stiflingly hot sari turned to regard him. Her hackles rising, she had already started barking something in Hindi when Kyle stepped right up to her opened her hand and put $200 in it. She was still fighting him when he closed her hand into a fist around the bills, stooped to kiss the old woman on the cheek and turned and left.

Kyle went past the girl and shot her a playful wink. She smiled up at him and moved past him to her grandmother.

He picked up his hat at the table and was about to take his leave. He had a smile on his face at the opportunity to impose his generosity on them. It was totally worth it. He was turning to leave when he almost ran headlong into the waitress. She had snuck her way into his space without him even realizing. Just like that her spicy perfume pervaded him.

"Oh, excuse me," he stammered automatically.

She bounced up against him and he caught her by the arm before she could lose her balance. He pulled her up against him and her softness was for a short while upon his solid torso. But not so short a time that it didn't leave an impression. Combined with the smell of her, he was completely overpowered. She looked up at him with those big eyes and long lashes, her lips parted and she pushed her glasses up her nose.

"That...that was really nice of you," she stammered.

She was breathtaking. And, definitely, a teenager. "Don't mention it."

"I brought you tea," she declared, holding up the kettle in her hand. "Compliments of the chef."

He barely heard her. He was mesmerized by the weight of her, her scent, her closeness.

"Please...sit..." she whispered, setting him back in the seat.

He obeyed, sitting mechanically at her directing and staring at her as she blushed and poured the tea.

He was compelled by that closeness, again, he thought that he was high. Her hand steadied the tea cup and his hand went to the cup, brushing innocently against hers, as if by accident. She started, afraid that they'd spill and her hand lingered against his a moment longer. She smiled sheepishly, as if apologizing for her clumsiness, and turned to leave.

Kyle saw her take two steps when he realized. "Miss. I'm sorry I didn't get your name."

The waitress turned, her hands held at her chest as if she had just been burned.

"Mm..Mia. Mia Kaali."

***

He felt like a bastard every time he looked at the girl. He didn't mean to fantasize about her all hours of the day. He didn't want to drag every one of his employees here just to diffuse any suspicion of why he kept coming back. He really did want Raj's dilapidated eatery to stay profitable, because it was his favourite place to eat in this unfamiliar, mock city. It probably occurred to him somewhere in the back of his head that he really wouldn't have an excuse to see Raj's daughter ever again if the restaurant went belly up - and Lord knows that Raj wasn't the best businessman around. He had a 2-star exterior and was charging 1-star prices for food made by a 4-star chef.

Kyle simply told himself that he was taking an interest in a bright young woman. That's what he told himself. What he knew was that from the moment that little Mia Kaali brought his lunch to his table that first time, her head downcast as if she was some sort of indentured woman, and their eyes met as she brought him food - from the moment that he held her against him and touched her hand, there was absolutely nothing else going on in his life. There were no other priorities. The warmth of her hand was like an order from God above.

It was a clarity of purpose that he'd never known before. A mission that would take a backseat to absolutely nothing else. His job, his friends, his family - none of that mattered. Nothing would or could matter again until he got to fuck Raj's breathtaking Indian princess.

Raj was a nice guy - and very protective of his daughter. He had two older boys and as the baby of the family, Mia Kaali, a mere two months past her 18th birthday, had probably never even been kissed by someone who wasn't her family.

Kyle aimed to remedy that in a big way. But how?

***

Days of pining turned to weeks. Weeks had now turned to months. Kyle was rich, tall, successful. He never had to work particularly hard to convince women that he'd be a good 'mistake' to make - panties that he pulled off were usually pretty damp once he got the green light. He couldn't remember the last time he had to actually hunt for the pussy. Usually what he wanted just came to him. He was blessed to be a nice, tall, charming black guy and a gentleman in a world where all of those things were pretty rare: he had little doubt that he was a top three lay among every woman that he'd ever been with, and the repeat customers that he had in his phone was the proof.

But none of those diversions lessened it. None of those wonderful nights, with some fairly spectacular woman, quenched it. His most recent bed-buddy, a superbad, fine-as-fuck, Mexican lawyer named Gabriela, was back in town after a week in Europe and she was pent up. Her texts were on his phone every other time he looked and they had ended up fucking three times that week - bitch even let him finish up on her face.

The next day he was at Desi Delights for dinner, listening to Mia Kaali giggle at some joke that he had made, her face bright and beaming. And he felt that unfamiliar light inside. It was more than just physical - it was a tenderness that he'd never really felt towards anyone that wasn't his own family. He genuinely wasn't sure if it was mere lust or actually love that warmed his stomach. And sure enough, he woke up the next morning hard as a brick. He could still remember the way Mia Kaali smelled, her smile under the sheets, and the way she had kissed his neck in his dreams.

***

Dreams started bleeding over to his work. He started blowing things off. He bought a brand-spanking TV for Raj to put in the restaurant so that he could have an excuse to come over and watch the news on his breaks. Most of the time, it would just be Raj and the old woman but now and again, Mia would take a day off school to prepare for the evening. His heart leapt whenever that happened and he couldn't hide it from his face even if he tried. The old woman would have seen right through him if she didn't spend so much time in the back. Raj just seemed oblivious.

Realizing that his 'coincidental' contact with Mia would increase if he started later, Kyle started coming in at 11. He'd front load his day for that initial hour and a half then go to the restaurant for lunch, waste time at work until 5 and then go back for dinner. By now he'd basically forced every close friend he had at gunpoint to hang out there, so he at least had cover for all the time he spent there. Raj certainly didn't complain about the sudden amount of regulars that he had - Kyle was basically his Moses at this point, taking him to the promise land. The restaurant was always full, but this of course was a doubled-edged sword. On the one hand, he had all the cover and excuses he'd want to chat up Mia Kaali. On the other, full tables meant busy wait staff, and Kyle's entourage kept the girl plenty busy.

She was legal in the technical sense, and physically she was certainly more that enough woman than most men would know to do with. But there was the niggling feeling: the innocence, the naivety of her that suggested that sex and being sexually active was possibly the furthest thing from her mind. Mia was sharp as a tack, cute as a button and despite her very conservative dress, her body was a like a brick to the head. She was also far from worldly. She still thought of herself as a girl and he knew that even a token suggestion of her as a proper woman, and the sexual possibilities that being a woman entailed, would backfire.

She was a needle that he needed to thread.

He'd felt properly like a dirty old man for the first time in his life when he'd started creeping this 18 year old's Facebook page. By now he had lost count of how many times his mind had tried to conjure what delights lay beneath her conservative sari. He'd always thought guys that feened for jailbait to be pathetic and sad but he had scarcely made time for anything else. He was basically counting the hours down each time he stepped into the restaurant and innocently asked how she would celebrate.

But he had no 'in' - no angle to play. He'd catch a glimpse of her as she went from table to table in the restaurant; she would shoot him a glance now and again, almost as if to see if he was still staring a hole through her. She'd smile, or pretend to not notice. Now and again, she'd blush and thread her hair behind her ear as she turned away. Images of him lifting her onto a table, tugging down the sari and slurping on her nipples as he mounted her in front of everyone in the restaurant percolated through his brain. He didn't know if he could keep from ripping off her clothes the next time he saw her. He was losing his mind, really. He was actually thinking of whether Raj would force Mia Kaali to marry him if he simply lost his shit on the poor girl and knocked her up when Raj's voice finally penetrated his lust poisoned fantasies.

"So, they are saying that they can take it all," he finished with a worried look on his face.

Kyle hadn't been listening and from the look on Raj's face, he couldn't let on to that fact. He'd have to take a chance. "Take it all?..." he began cautiously, before coming round to, "You mean, the restaurant?"

"It's the only thing I have. I've put every dime they've given me into this restaurant." The man was distraught, on the verge of tears. Kyle was ashamed - this man was bearing his soul to him, and all he could do was daydream about fucking his daughter.

And then it occurred to Kyle: Jesus, you dumbass! This is what you've been looking for!

He leaned over the table and looked Raj square in the eyes. "My friend, how can I help?"

***

He was a bastard and he was going to hell. Kyle knew it. The gears were spinning full speed even as Raj was talking. By the time he finished talking (read: plotting) and had reached the door, Raj was shaking Kyle's big hand in both of his smaller ones, relief pouring off of him. His 'friend' and best customer was going to be his salvation and Kyle knew that he could probably ask Raj for just about anything in return for saving his ass - except, of course, for the one thing Raj had that he actually wanted.

The L.A. sun was warming his face as he opened the door to his Jaguar parked in front of the restaurant, Raj waving him goodbye. Kyle smiled and waved back. He was going to hell, Kyle thought as he sat down into the car...

And he'd probably never been so excited in his entire life. He felt the way a child felt when they knew they were getting that toy that they've been obsessed about for Christmas.

Raj, he had said simply. We have three major parties a year at the company. Maybe we let you cater for the office parties and give you an advance for them. And maybe you take the money and pay these guys before they break your legs or blow up the restaurant for insurance money.

You know how decent men refuse to take a handout before coming back and jumping on it? Raj didn't bother with the first step. He was so happy when Kyle had said it that he looked like he was going to suck a brotha off.

But Raj, he had said. You have to deliver. If this is going to be on the up-and-up, you can't half-ass it. You can't mail this shit in. I can't sign for an advance on a year's worth of catering if you do a shit job on the first party. You have to bowl the staff over- four-star service. All hands on deck.

Raj nodded. He had a couple of cousins and nieces who could help out his mother. Some friends who could act as servers...

Kyle waited for a beat, knowing it was coming.

And, of course, he said, Mia Kaali would have to organize the venue, make sure that everything ran smooth.

"That's what I want to hear," Kyle had said, and Raj smiled, seeing it coming together. Then Kyle smiled & it occurred to him that he was going to hell.

Raj gave his daughter her marching orders that very night, and everyday for the 7 weeks leading up to the office party, Kyle was copied on some email where his secretary, Brenda, was finalizing some menu item or detail or clarifying some dietary restriction with Mia Kaali. Now and again, he'd 'reply all' to the message, prodding Mia Kaali with a joke or two about her military like efficiency. He imagined the girl smiling as she responded conservatively and professionally to his teasing but always eager to impress, sharp and thoughtful as ever. Kyle had very quietly started up a running conversation with the girl about her school & home life and when Mia Kaali started signing off her messages with a playful 'XO, MK', Kyle felt a lot less guilty stroking his dick under his desk while stalking her Facebook and Instagram over the lunch hour.