Daisy - Sex Stories

Daisy

... money dressed down to keep folks away from their celebrity. But a little lip-gloss would have gone a long way.

Aiden frowned as he watched his guest. Daisy walked tall with her nose up in the air. He studied her as they moved through the tables. Then he realized why. He had to stifle a smile. She really was something. He observed her as she unfolded her napkin and placed it in her lap.

“You hungry, princess?”

“Yes, Mr. Keane. I am.”

He snapped his fingers. A chef appeared, his prep station near. Daisy looked up at him, then to Aiden. “Tell the man what you’d like.”

“Can I have a menu please?” she asked, baffled.

“Whatever you wish I can prepare.”

She looked again to Aiden to confirm. He nodded that it was her choice. She looked around the restaurant and then back to him.

“Okay, I’d like an omelet. Whites, no yolks, with wild chanterelle mushrooms, goat cheese, sweet onions, basil aioli, a little sun-dried tomato, spinach and pancetta. Oh, and some crepes with blueberries, and a mimosa, and um…. oh, and Maryland crab cakes too, please.”

The chef looked to Aiden, not having blinked at the order. Aiden smiled. “Coffee.”

He nodded and backed away.

“Did he get that?” Daisy asked. She watched him speak in another language to other cooks lined up.

“He has it.”

Her eyes returned to Aiden. “Guess you’re wondering how I knew what to order huh?”

“It crossed my mind.”

“I watch this show called Top Chef. You see it?”

“No, can’t say that I ...

... have.”

“You should watch it!” she exclaimed. “You need to know what’s the latest in these kitchens—”

“I have people that—”

“—anyways, each episode they have guest judges. ”

“Really?”

“Yeah, and last episode I saw before we left home they had the guy from Spago—Wolf Punk….”

“Wolfgang Puck,” he corrected.

“Yes! That’s him! Well, when he was there, he said a true chef can please his guest no matter what the order. So he ordered that. Off the top of his head. And this girl found everything and had it for him in like five or ten minutes or something. Cause they have to do it on a timer and stuff. Well, Wolf Puck….”

“Wolfgang Puck…”

“Yeah, yeah, he was impressed. I said to myself: Daisy when you go to a five-star for breakfast you got to try it. But with class, you know. Not chicken or fried shrimp. I swear, country folk always go to a restaurant and order chicken or fried shrimp. My daddy would take us to The Sizzler for Easter dinner and order chicken. In a steak house! I was so embarrassed! No class…”

“Sizzler?” Aiden frowned.

“Yes, The Sizzler. Don’t pretend you don’t know The Sizzler. All kinds of folks love it. When Oprah came to the Kentucky Derby she ate there. I know cause my friend Jessiemae was there too, and she said Oprah just walked right in and ordered like normal folk.”

“I see.”

Daisy clamped her mouth shut. She’d been talking a million miles an hour. She needed to slow her roll. Speak when spoken to. All that jazz.

“Don’t ...