The Chosen

And dirty they were, like none she’d ever had in her life. She blushed just thinking about them—she felt tingly and hot, even now. Her panties dampened.

“I’d just like to say,” a voice asserted, “we think your restaurant is outstanding.”

Vera snapped out of the lewd daze. It was the mayor who was passing the hostess station—a corpulent, red-nosed man in a disheveled suit—and his wife. He complimented further, “I can’t remember the last time we’ve dined so well. Give our compliments to the chef. Lobster cakes! What a simply ingenious idea!”

“Thank you for the kind words,” Vera replied.

“It’s about time someone opened a good restaurant in our town,” the over-made-up wife contributed. “I can’t wait to tell all my friends.”

Oh, please, Vera thought. Tell them all. Even tell people who aren’t your friends. We need some receipts! “It’s been a pleasure being able to serve you. Please come again soon.”

She received several more such compliments as some of the other diners left. At eight-thirty three more couples came in, but that was it for the night. Vera meandered back into the kitchen. Lee and Dan B. were playing blackjack on the butcher block. “Hey, Dan B.,” Vera motioned. “You Lobster Cakes in Lemon Butter are a big hit.”

Dan B.’s face screwed up over his hand. “A big hit? I’ve only done one order all night. We prepped enough for a dozen.”

“I prepped enough for a dozen,” Lee corrected, “while you read the funny papers in the can.”

“Yeah, the funny papers, your last report card from high school.”

“I never had time to study—I was too busy shagging your mom,” Lee said. “She pays.”

“No, you pay, porkface.” Dan B. laid down his hand. “Twenty-one. Blow me.” Then he looked up. “Hey, Vera, you wanna know the real kick in the tail? Go listen.” He pointed down the line.

“What?”

“Just go listen.”

Vera walked to the end of the washline. She pressed her ear to the door which led to the room-service kitchen. And flinched.

“Jesus,” she muttered. “They’re slammed in there.”

What she heard was an absolute cacophony. It was a familiar sound, from the old days. The sound of a very busy kitchen.

It infuriated her.

“Your man Kyle says all of his rooms are full for the whole weekend. He must not be lying,” Dan B. mentioned.

“I’ve got to check this out,” Vera said. “I’m going over there.”

“Good luck,” Lee said.

“Goddamn!’’ she nearly shouted when she tried he door. It was locked.

“There’s no reason for this door to be locked,” she exclaimed. “What is that guy’s problem?”

“His problem? He’s an asshole.”

You got that right. Vera left the kitchen, recrossed the dining room, and entered the atrium, which stood vacant. It