I invite Mel to take a seat at the dining table before going up to my bedroom and selecting a few silk ties from my antique closet. When I return to the kitchen, she shoots me an unsure kind of smile. Her eyes linger on mine for a moment before fixing on the bunch of ties in my hand.

Her brows pinch. "What are they for?"

"Don't worry. I'm not going to bind you up just yet."

A nervous laugh trips from her luscious lips.

She looks worried, so I quickly break the tension. "A taste test."

Closing the distance between us, I stand tall over her—my gaze fighting to stay off her tempting cleavage. "I want you to taste three of my signature dishes."

Her eyes round. "Really?"

I nod.

"Oh my god, I can't wait." She pauses and then frowns.

"What's up?"

"It's really your food?"

"Yep. It’s really my food." I look down at the ties. "The only caveat is that I want you to put this on. You will be blind folded for the sake of the experiment."

She angles her head slightly.

"Your food is getting better, Mel, I'll give you that. But your seasoning and grasp of flavor leaves a lot to be desired."

There is a disappointed pout on her lips.

"Don't feel bad, though," I continue. "I was exactly the same as you. I could cook pretty well . . . or so I thought. I just lacked that one missing thing.”

"Which was?"

"An innate sense of taste. When I finally understood flavor and not just texture, I could cook with my eyes closed. I knew exactly the right measures without even looking. I've noticed you hardly taste your own work as you prepare.

She glances down. "I know. Habits from my old job."

"Well don't beat yourself up about that now. You work for me. Think of cooking in my kitchen like making love."

Her cheeks redden.

I smile, enjoying the way I tease her with the analogy. "You have to make love to your work, carefully pay attention to every detail until the costumer can taste your passion in every bite. We have to bring them to an orgasm."

Her cheeks positively burn now. That was perhaps the biggest load of bullshit I've ever spouted but I get a thrill seeing her squirm.

Rounding behind the chair she’s sat on, I ask her if she's ready. She nods once, her chest heaving.

I carefully place the ties around her eyes and fashion a loose knot at the back.

“Keep your hands on your knees,” I say. “Don’t try to remove these ties.”

She breaths deeply.

Walking over to the refrigerator, which I’ve now finally shifted to the kitchen from the garage, I remove three small plastic boxes of food. I quickly zap all of them in the microwave before walking back over with the meals and a fork.

“As you could hear, Mel, I’ve had to re-heat them. Not ideal, I know, but I’m sure the food will retain its flavor. Ready?”

“Yes. I think.”

“Good.”

I crack open the lid on the first box. Steam rises like a plume of smoke from a chimney stack.

She fidgets on the chair. “That smells yummy.”

“Okay,” I say, placing a moderate helping on the fork, “open wide.”

Her pretty jaw falls open and I place the fork gently on her tongue. Biting down, she drags the food away and makes a sound like she’s having an orgasm. It turns me on to see her blindfolded and moaning like that.

After a few chews she swallows and then remains mute.

“Can you identify the dominant spice in that curry sauce?”

“I think it’s . . .”

“Need another bite?”

She nods.

I place another forkful in her mouth. A few chews later she smiles.

“Now can you tell me?”

“Is it, Cumin powder?”

“Bingo! Well done. Cumin is my favorite spice.”

I’m actually pleasantly surprised she got it right. Maybe she isn’t as bad as I originally thought. Maybe I should blindfold her at work?

When I go to another box and come back with a fresh meal taste, I pause.

Her chest is heaving more now and the bondage-style set up has my dick raging-hard.

I shouldn’t do this.

I should resist.

This definitely steps over the line when it comes to workplace ethics, but I’m not sure how long I can resist. Her dark hair, the pink plump curve of her lips, her cute little button nose, those smooth legs, her breasts straining against her shirt . . .

“Open wide,” I say again.

Her mouth parts and instead of another fork of food, I insert my finger. Expecting her to recoil and rip off the ties from around her head, what she does next surprises me.

Slowly, and like the sex-kitten I always assumed she was beneath the shy hard working exterior, she sucks on my digit. Pulling up and down, she deliberately licks and swirls my finger with her wet tongue. Imagining it’s my cock she’s sucking has me almost coming right in my pants.

I quickly pull away the ties from her head and hover tall over her.

Her fuck-me green eyes stare up at me, wide-eyed but certainly with the glint of the devil. We both know the game can’t continue at this slow place. We have to take things to the next level. Act on our impulses.

I hoist her up to her feet and hold her head close to mine, my lips just a few inches from hers.

Food is the last thing on my mind now. I’m hungry for something else . . .

Namely, her: her youthful flesh, her thick lips, the nectar of her pussy . . .

Without warning, I crush my lips to hers and lose myself in the sugary taste of her sweet mouth . . .