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I am slowly trying to find my mojo back, although this pineapple upside down cake did go wrong, and ended up with a cheesecake texture which is completely opposite the sponge cake texture it was intended to have. It was still yummy nevertheless. I really have started thinking about a second source of income, and I think a dessert shop would be my best shot.

Drunken meetings and perverted millionaires

The elegant dining room, lit up by the monstrous, dangling chandelier, began to spin faster and faster. It was more than enough of a sign for Lucille that she was perilously close to wrecking herself, but that didn’t stop her from reaching for the wine glass. She let the silky smooth sherry slip down her throat. It was sweet and pleasant at first, but soon left a bitter aftertaste in her mouth and a burning sensation trailing behind the burgundy liquid. She squeezed her eyes shut for a second and them opened them back up only to be met with floating black orbs that obscured her vision. The frail palm on the naked skin of her thigh gave her limb a gentle squeeze, prompting her stomach to flip. She couldn’t even bear to look at the aging man sitting beside her copping a feel after feel to his heart’s content. She shot a pointed glare at her boss. His mouth had curled into a gleeful smile, showcasing his perfect straight set of teeth as he engaged in light conversations with the prospective clients. He was the sole reason that she was in such a plight, having to resort to alcohol to make it through the rest of the night. It was horrific to learn that her senile but millionaire client had taken a liking towards her even having the audacity to make inappropriate advances. What was more gut wrenching was her boss twisting the sexual harassment into a potential maneuver to lock in the important deal. “Just let him have his fun,” he said the other day. “I promise I won’t let him cross the line. This deal is very important to the company Ms. Trask.” It must be lonely at the top, she thought bitterly. Their gazed met for a nanosecond before he looked away, focusing on the client’s son. She looked in front of her, where her boyfriend, Brendon, sat innocently at the opposite end of the expansive, ebony dining table. He was completely oblivious of his girlfriend being subjected to an old man’s sexual gratification. A waiter came by, and refilled her empty wine glass. He was probably aware that she was now on her fourth. Without hesitating, she picked it up by its slender stem, and took another swig. Her head began to pulsate as though her brain had developed it’s own heartbeat. She contemplated on stopping the alcohol binge, but when the rough, veiny palm began riding up her thigh, she had to opt for another gulp. It was a more feasible alternative compared to grabbing the shiny, silver folk and stabbing his hand. She could now feel the nausea growing within her. Brendon was beginning to take notice of her odd behavior, and gave her a puzzled glare. If only she could pull him to a side and spill everything, unloading the burden that was severely weighing her down. But knowing Brendon too well, he would most definitely clock her boss square in the jaw. Even though Lucille knew he deserved it, she couldn’t afford to give up her job. It took a lot of hard work and determination to secure this one alone; she couldn’t bear the thought of watching it crumble in a matter of seconds. Just then four waitresses, clad in waistcoats and black bow ties, walked into the room, a plate in each hand and an impassive look on their face. Lucille’s stomach churned in protest at the thought of having to eat. Behind them was a man, with greying hair, whom Lucille presumed was the mansion’s head chef. “For tonight’s entrée, we will be serving sautéed foie gras with roasted veal sweetbreads, carrots, almonds and a Cabernet Sauvignon vinegar. Enjoy!” He announced. Lucille did not understand a single component of the dish; its elegance was far beyond her culinary knowledge. The waiter swiftly placed a round ceramic plate that glistened beautifully under the chandelier. One look at the fattened duck liver sitting in a puddle of brown liquid and Lucille knew she couldn’t hang on. She turned to the side, where no one else sat, and retched, producing a thin, maroon stream of vomit. It splashed quite audibly against the marbled floors. She could hear the shocked gasps from the rest of the dinner party guests and cutlery clattering, followed by a chair frantically scraping back. Two sturdy hands then slipped under her arms, lifting her up and maneuvering her around the puddle and out of the dining room. It was Brendon; her knight in a well-fitting suit. “The bathroom is down the hall on the first floor to the left,” a woman’s voice called out behind them. She recognized it as belonging to their client’s daughter-in-law. There was hint of disgust in her voice. Lucille clamped her mouth with a trembling palm once it truly dawned on her that she had just thrown up on the floor of her millionaire client’s mansion, in front of an audience. Brendon snaked his arm around her waist and gripped her forearm tightly to support her nearly limp body. “It’s okay I got you,” he reassured her. They made it up the wide staircase and down the long corridor, until they found the guest bathroom as the directions dictated they would. It was as big as the size of their apartment’s bedroom. The caramel-colored marble tiles gleamed under the soft spotlights that dotted the entire ceiling in a neat pattern. A claw foot bathtub sat on one side, while a counter stretched throughout the opposite side, complete with two sinks. A vase of white roses stood between the two. The sleek, beige toilet stood at the far end, right beside the European shower cubicle. As she approached within close proximity to the bowl, she removed her hand and right on cue, a gag broke free from her throat. The nasty sound bounced off the coffee-brown wall tiles. She quickly dropped to her knees, and produced another stream of pure sherry. Brendon’s hand massaged her back in circles as she coughed and spluttered. It tasted more horrible coming back up than it did going down. The force exerted on her body had caused tears to prick the corner of her eyes. Another stream and she finally felt her stomach settle, as she sat down on floor. The cool tiles piercing her very exposed legs. Brendon gave her a few more minutes to gather her bearings before swiftly helping her up and leading her to the bedroom next door. It followed the same brown theme as the bathroom. The wall behind the large bed covered in squares of brown padding. She flopped onto the bed, the mattress bouncing underneath her weight. “What the fuck was that about Lucy?” Brendon finally asked. He did not bother to conceal his annoyance. More tears filled up Lucille’s eyes and cascaded down her flushed cheeks. Through her blurry vision, she saw Brendon standing beside the wall; one hand pressed against it’s wooden-paneled surface, and the other buried deep in his pants pocket. “I’m sorry.” Her voice was pathetic whimper. “Please, just take me home. I wanna go home,” she pleaded. Her begging was incoherent. Down the hallway, the clicking of heels was audible, distant at first, growing louder with each step. She braced herself to see the daughter-in-law, checking in to ensure that Lucille wasn’t causing a mess. She relaxed deeply at the sight of Talia’s head popping in the doorway. “Is she okay?” Lucille’s best friend directly asked Brendon. “She’s completely hammered!” Talia gave her a sympathetic but knowing glance. Talia was the only other person who knew what Lucille was going through. It took some major convincing, but she was finally able to keep Talia quiet regarding their boss’s disgusting behavior. “Give her a break, Brendon,” she snapped. “Do you need some water?” Her tone softened when she spoke to her best friend. Lucille nodded strongly, aching for a beverage to tame the burning sensation in her throat. “On it.” She took off, her heels clicking at a faster pace the second time around. When they were given another moment alone, Brendon slowly approached her. He squatted down right in front of her, and peered up into her glazy eyes. “Okay, there’s something you’re not telling me. What is it?” Talia’s brief interaction with the couple had raised his concern. She shook her head slowly, biting her lip to keep herself from sobbing aloud. “I can’t tell you. Please, I just wanna go home.” She leaned forward, nuzzling her face into the nook created by his shoulder and neck. The soft feeling of Brendon’s blue royal oxford shirt soothed her damp cheeks. The embrace lasted a lot shorter than she hoped it would, when she felt Brendon rise and the plop on the bed, right beside her. He pulled her closer, wrapping both arms around her tight, letting her head rest on his muscular chest. She felt a whole lot better once she soaked in the sounds of his muffled heartbeat and the enticing scents of his cologne. Talia reappeared with a tumbler of water in her hand. She handed it over to Lucille, who took it gratefully and chugged down half its contents. “I think we should head home then,” Brendon announced. “Yeah that would be best,” Talia agreed. Brendon, slowly unwrapped Lucille, stood up and offered his hand. She took it and pulled herself up with a little bit of his help. A dose of head rush had her swaying uncontrollably, and her vision momentarily blackened. She was able to recover well enough to walk with the two of them as the descended down one half of the double staircase that winded into the expansive foyer. Fortunately the path to the front door was out of sight from the dining room. She wondered what went on between the rest of the guests after she caused a scene and left. Talia strode over to the dining room in order to relay the news that Lucille and Brendon would be leaving. Outside was quite chilly, as the breeze whipped through, and tousled Lucille’s slick and straight brown hair. It took her a staggering hour to have it cascade down her back like a waterfall. Yet she was grateful for Mother Nature’s gift that helped detangle the befuddled state of her mind and aid in sobering her up by a smidge. The circular driveway was paved with grey cobblestone, unsurprisingly complete with a water fountain in the center. They crossed over it, to Brendon’s Electra parked by the line of palm trees and low-level shrubbery. He carefully eased her into the passenger seat and shut the door. He then made his way around the car, but instead of joining her, he was met with Talia who had briskly walked over to him. The two of them engaged in a conversation that had Brendon, throwing his hands up, resting them on the back of his neck, and shaking his head. Meanwhile, the silence inside the dark, confined space was deafening, producing a ringing sound that pierced her ears. It was a couple of minutes before Brendon finally hopped into the driver’s seat, swiftly started up the car, and drove out the menacing, wrought-iron gates. Not one word was uttered by him, and that was enough to raise red flags in Lucille’s intoxicated mind. What had Talia told him? Brendon was the first to cave in and finally break the awkward spell of silence. “Lucy,” he began. “Why didn’t you tell me what David was forcing you to do?” Lucille whipped her head over to look at him, her eyes widened with fear. He sounded so calm, yet she could see his jaw muscles twitching as he focused straight ahead on the empty road. “Brendon, I-I-.” Her mouth was agape, and she found herself at a loss for words. “You would have slaughtered David.” “You’re damn right I would!” “I’m scared okay. You would have only worsened the situation. I would have lost my job. I love the way you protect me Brendon, but I just couldn’t have it here.” “He can’t just fire you without proper grounds you know. That’s wrongful termination. Luce, you can’t let the jerk walk all over you like that.” “It’s honestly okay, Brendon, I can manage.” “No you can’t. Look at you! You just vomited all over the pervert’s floor.” He was right; she could barely control her self tonight. Who knows how bad it could get in the future. “Will you at least go to HR first thing Monday morning?” Lucille squeezed her eyes shut, and sniffled. It was loud enough to earn Brendon’s attention as he looked over at his girlfriend, and tucked a loose tendril behind her ear. She leaned into his caring touch. “I know you’re scared Luce, but I’m afraid about what he might do in the future. You gave him the power tonight and he’s going to keep abusing it. Either you put your foot down, let me do it, or allow HR to intervene.” “I’ll talk to him,” Lucille opted for the easier option. She turned her face away from him and watched the buildings roll past them. The car finally glided to a halt in front of their lanky, apartment building. He jumped out of the vehicle, and sped over to the passenger door opening for her. “Let’s first get you out of those sky-high heels. The last thing we need is you breaking your ankles.” He bent down and pulled off her glossy beige nude-colored stilettos. “Are you able to walk he?” asked her when he noticed that she was able to climb out of the car without a problem. She nodded her head weakly. He took her hand, and laced his fingers between her, as they made their way up to the apartment. All Lucille could think of was flopping down onto their bed, and sleeping away the horrid memories.

Mumbai at Midnight

Nina traced the rim of the rocks glass with her index finger. She was never the ‘brown liquor’ type of drinker, but this trip was unearthing more revelations with each passing day. It was only when had she spent two hours retracing her steps to find her purse in the safekeeping of a generous kiosk owner did she realize that it was a mistake. Coming to India was a mistake. She had mentally penned down a reminder to change her booking tomorrow so that she would leave by the end of this week. A whole three weeks earlier than initially planned. She could already picture the bemused faces of her parents in her clouded mind. Nina never had an ounce of spontaneity within her, which justified everyone’s surprise including her own when she announced her trip to India. Seattle was more closer to home and more feasible, but instead Nina chose to plunge herself into an entirely different culture, eight thousand miles away from her own. The only thing she had learnt in her time here was that the rickshaw drivers haggled tourists over steeper rates. A piece of knowledge she picked up the hard way. Nina tipped her head back and finished the last of her of her whisky, letting the ice cubes crash against her lips. It went down smoothly, she thought. Oh who am I kidding, I don’t know what smooth whiskey is. They all burn. An acoustic cover of a popular song had just faded out in the swanky bar of The Oberoi, Mumbai. The home screen on her phone told her that it was eleven o’ clock. Not quite the usual time she would retire for the night back at home, but she found herself quite bored in here. Of course she noticed the stares projected her way by the wealthy local men on business trips, but that was it. How did the lone travellers, depicted so glamorously on blogging sites, do this for months on end? Nina had just about convinced herself to peel her bottom off the high stool when she felt a new presence occupy the seat next to her, bringing with them a powerful scent of men. She turned her head fractionally to scope out her new neighbor, only to find his dark, hooded gaze already on her. “Hi.” His asymmetrical smile could be mistaken for a smug smirk. “Uhmm hi,” Nina responded, her voice barely lifting above the music. She shifted her focus down to her empty glass. “Can I buy you a drink?” He asked. She recognized, from his accent, that he came from a different corner of the world, despite what his outward appearance told her. Then her mind went blank. No one had ever offered to buy her a drink before. Nina wasn’t exactly sure why, but maybe because she was in the middle of a quest to broaden her life experiences, she agreed with a nod and a tight smile. Eyeing the glass before her, he raised his hand and called for two shots of tequila. The throbbing sensation Nina felt in her temples told her she should have applied the brakes one drink ago. The two strangers downed their shots in silence. She couldn’t quite steal a closer look at the mystery man when his eyes were not moving off of her. It was fortunate that the bar was illuminated with soft pink lighting, conveniently concealing a similar hue that crept into her own cheeks. “So what brings you to Mumbai?” He finally asked. “Vacation.” She replied in short. It was easier that way. “What about you?” “Work duties.” “Oh. So what kind of work do you do?” “I…am a sportsman,” he answered after a brief hesitation. “I was about to say I play cricket, but I’m assuming you’re from the west and have no idea what that is.” She averted her gaze guiltily before returning back to his face. He sported a scruffy beard and a side swept undercut. One could describe him as being ruggedly handsome. “I do know that it’s a bit similar to baseball,” she said, trying to salvage her naivety. In honesty, she only learnt of cricket from Disney’s Million Dollar Arm. “Ten points for you,” he exclaimed. Only his ‘ten points’ meant another shot as he half raised his arm up again. Several minutes later, they had moved over to a circular booth in the corner, complete with plush seating. Her back slumped against the support with relief. She let him take the lead and describe his ever so fascinating career, where he played for the New Zealand national cricket team, dismissing her theory that he was Australian in the process. As it turned out, they were in between matches and enjoying a day off. She felt a strange feeling of relief to have her first free flowing conversation in days without struggling to reach over the language barrier. When the alcohol had finally taken a toll on her bladder, Nina excused her self to the ladies room. The décor inside was unbelievably luxurious with plenty of cherry oak wood surfaces, marbled flooring and mellow golden lighting. Nina felt the sudden weigh of exhaustion drop down on her. She was torn between wanting to lie down and continue conversing with the attractive man back at the bar. The lackluster color in her cheeks appalled Nina as she quickly rifled through her handbag for her compact foundation. A tall and dark figure appeared behind Nina’s reflection in the expansive mirror, making her jump out of her skin. Her mouth was ajar, ready to pelt out a scream but subdued at the sight of a familiar face. The dark, hooded eyes trapped her gaze again. “I think you may have the wrong bathro-“ “No I don’t think so.” He cut her off, in a hoarse voice. A meek voice in her gut told her where this was going. Before she could even decide on what she wanted, he was closing in on her. His stride boasted a certain level of confidence. A level that told her he had pulled this move on many others before her. He hooked his hand around the nape of her neck, and dropped his lips onto hers. A strong smell of whisky emanated from him, although it could well have been the combined odor from the two of them. She hesitantly jerked back. “I do- I don’t even know you’re name.” Her protest was non-committal and her lips were pulsating for more. “It’s Mitchell,” he replied breathlessly, and pulled her back in with great force. She clung onto his sturdy shoulders for support. The feeling of his palm pressing in on the small of her back was a feeling she did not know that she had needed until now. His other hand then moved to her upper thigh, just below where her dress stopped. His fingers lightly grazed her skin. The sensation unleashed goose bumps across her arms. In a swift move he gracefully lifted her up and dropped her onto the immaculate granite, sink counters. Its cool surface shocked the hypersensitive skin of her thighs. Mitchell’s hand had just found the back zipper of her little red dress, when Nina became vaguely aware of their surrounding. With great reluctance, she ducked back and broke their merciless kissing spell once again. She rested her head against the mirror. “We can’t do this here.” Mitchell ran a hand through his hair, pushing it back only for the strands to spring back over his forehead. He looked at the door, which could swing open at any moment, and then reached into his pocket. “My room is just two floors above,” he suggested, producing a key card. Nina’s arm brushed against Mitchell as they waited out the elevator ride. There was an unspoken frustration at not being able to continue their heated exchange with three other men inside the metal box. Nina’s heart was racing with excitement. She was afraid that the interest would fizzle out when she had agreed, but the effect was the opposite. The elevator let out an echoing ding when it reached the third floor. The two of them squeezed through the suit cladded men and into the deserted corridor. The sparks began charging up again. They had just about made it to the door of his room when Mitchell pinned her up against the wall beside it. While entertaining her with the rhythmic movements of his tongue, Mitchell was able to get his room open. They both stumbled into it. Without hesitation, Mitchell picked up where he left off and tugged down her zipper. Her dress slipped off her body and pooled around her feet. She was now standing in a pair of decent lingerie before a virtual stranger. To restore balance, she began to lift up his shirt, before he assisted in removing it off. His body was taut and belonged to someone who visited the gym regularly. Nina had to remind herself that he probably did since he was a professional athlete. Or so he says. Nina plopped down onto the bed. She was barely given a moment to catch her breath when Mitchell began unbuckling the belt of his jeans. Her toes curled in her stilettos in anticipation of the big reveal. His gray Calvin was deliberately pulled down slowly, and out sprang his wonderfully erect dick. She could not look away from him even if she tried, her cheeks and many other parts of her aflame. He was awfully quick to slip on a condom. With a gentle nudge on her shoulder, he tipped her onto the bed, and climbed on top. The sudden change in her position caused her vision to spin briefly. Propping himself up on one arm, Mitchell slipped his hand into her bra cup and exposed her breast, pinching its nipple. A stifled moan escaped her lips and she grabbed a fistful of his hair to channel her unbearable delirium. His mouth was too busy imprinting territorial marks on her neck. “Fuck, how are you so irresistible? I don’t even know you,” he breathed against her skin. “Mystery is sexy,” was all she could come up with. Nina felt a soothing weight press down on her as Mitchell’s arm slowly gave way. She wrapped her legs around his torso, pulling him in, feeling his erection against her belly. Her lower region began to pulse rapidly. “I…need you,” she begged shamelessly. He moved to look at her, gave her that smug, self-satisfied smile and then tugged her damp panties go one side. He slid in smoothly and filled her completely. The thrusting started off slow and sensual, but picked up pace soon enough. She wrapped her arms around him, wanting to pull him in closer than their physical bodies would allow. Nina began to squirm at the build up growing deep inside. Its rise to the surface was slow and agonizing but eventually bloomed with grace. They came together. Mitchell’s groans were low and rousing. Nina’s vocals were compromised and she shuddered blissfully and immersed into euphoria.

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