Hillary had been running around in and out of the kitchen, tending to the customers and managing the chefs. She was one sous chef short, because Bill was on a leave. For the first time since he started working there, he had asked for a leave. Of course, with the performance that he had been giving, he more than deserved a leave. Hillary had already been thinking of promoting him as her right-hand man, but since he hasn’t delivered his original dish yet, which was her condition for his promotion, she couldn’t do that just yet.
She emerged from the kitchen after straightening out the situation with the hors d'oeuvres. She was already tending to the diners when she saw a familiar face in the floor.
Bill, arm-in-arm with the woman who Hillary was sure that Bill was flirting with before, was led to one of the tables by the hostess. A waiter was about to approach them, but Hillary stopped him midway, saying that she would attend to them herself. The waiter nonchalantly obeyed her orders and let her serve them herself.
Hillary plastered her most natural smile (which was a huge effort on her part) and hugged the menu to her chest.
"Hi Bill," she greeted him. "I didn't know you'd be here."
Bill looked a little flustered that it was Hillary who would be serving them. "Yeah. I made a reservation weeks ago because I wanted to spend time with Margot."
"Oh, you're Margot?" Hillary asked in her falsely sweet voice that made Bill squirm.
"Yes, I am. Margot DiLaurentis. A reporter from The New York Standard."
Hillary accepted the handshake from Margot. "Hillary Rodham. Executive Chef."
"Of course I know you. You're famous!" Margot said excitedly. "Best female chef in the US. A legend amongst women in the culinary world."
"Thank you," Hillary replied. She was trying to find a reason to hate Margot, but she couldn't. The woman was very personable.
"So, do we order now? I am hungry," Margot told Bill.
"Of course," Bill was handed the menu and he popped it open. He was well aware that Hillary was waiting for them, but he wanted anyone but her to do that. He felt guilty enough for bringing Margot here because she wanted to. Now, his boss was going to be their waitress.
"So, what will you have?" Hillary took her pen and paper, ready to jot down their order.
"Uhm, no offence, Hillary, but can't you have others wait for us? I mean, you have a lot to do and we don't mind having the other servers. You can focus on the VIP diners," said Bill.
"That's fine, the others are more than up to the task," Hillary assured him. "So, what do you like?"
Bill scanned the menu, his brain not registering the information in front of him. He was too busy overthinking how awkward this situation was. It's like inviting his mistress to his house and have his wife cook her dinner.
Wife?! Where did that come from?? Bill berated himself. Why was he guilty again? Aha! He remembered now. He didn't want his boss to serve him.
Margot happily informed Hillary of her order, and Bill had no choice but to follow suit. He barely mumbled his choice (duck ballotine) and when Hillary left, his eyes were following her while his hands were holding Margot's.
Hillary angrily tapped in Bill's order in the computer and marched towards the kitchen, her brain working overdrive. She told her staff that she would work on Bill's order herself, leaving them confused.
Bill tried to have a good time with Margot. Fortunately for him, Margot was doing a very good job lifting his spirits up. She was very engaging and very much into him. Normally, he would not have any problem entertaining her, because he loved talking to people. But that night, he was struggling a bit. Once in a while, when he became too comfortable with Margot, his mind would drift back to Hillary.
"Here's your order."
Bill looked up at the direction of that voice. Hillary, her hair tied in a messy bun, placed their plate of food in front of them. She must have fixed her hair when she was in the kitchen. The presence of the appetizing food and the delicious aroma did not manage to take away his gaze from her.
As abruptly as she appeared, Hillary left Bill and Margot. Much to Bill's relief. He tried to focus his attention to Margot. His eyes dropped on the low cut dress that she was wearing. Margot noticed his gaze, and gave out a dirty smirk.
Bill groaned on Margot's neck when he slipped inside her from behind, hitting that delicious spot. Kneeling on Bill's bed. Margot reached his back from behind, urging him to plunge deeper into her. Her breasts bounced as her body rocked against his, and his large hands covered those soft orbs, twisting and pinching her nipples. Margot arched her back then he stabbed her once again, sending shocks of pleasure to her very last vein.
"Oh God, Bill, I'm going to cum...please...." she begged him.
"Yes, baby...cum for me...cum hard..."
Three stabs of his cock, and Margot's orgasm came over her like a freight train. Her body stilled, absorbing the liquid hot pleasure from the incessant friction against Bill's body. Bill took the opportunity to suck the skin of her neck, leaving a mark that would let every other man know that she was his.
When Margot calmed down, she pulled Bill closer and whispered, "your turn, Baby. Cum for me. Put your seed inside me."
Oh fuck. The way Margot said it, it was fucking glorious. Bill wasn't in any mood to disobey her so he pounded her harder from behind, determined to get his release.
A doorbell. Bill thought he heard the doorbell.
He ignored it and instead, continued to fuck Margot's pussy.
Another doorbell. And then another. And then another.
And then it became hard for Bill to concentrate on getting his release. He was harder than a rock, but somehow he couldn't bring himself to cum. He was too bothered and annoyed by the doorbell to bring himself to completion.
Deciding that he couldn't finish until he settle that fucking doorbell, Bill pulled out of Margot and pulled up his black shorts, leaving his upper body bare. Margot was a little disappointed but she promised to suck him clean when he returned.
Bill grumpily marched towards the door and angrily swung the door opened. His face was full of annoyance, and when he stepped out of his apartment, he nearly scared the shit out of the person outside.
Hillary was holding her chest for dear life and she saw the expression on Bill's face. She had never felt so scared when she was with him.
Bill jumped when he saw Hillary was outside, still clad in her chef's garb without the hat. Bill wanted to kick himself for almost giving his boss a heart attack.
"Oh shit!" Bill exclaimed. "Sorry about that...uhm....uh...can I help you?" he said awkwardly.
"Uh, yeah," Hillary pretended not to see the hard outline of his cock in his pants. "I...I came here to give you your schedule for next week," she lied.
"Oh," Bill looked away, hopelessly praying that she was oblivious to what was happening. "What's my roster?"
"12-10 PM everyday," she lied. To be honest, she had no idea what was Bill's supposed roster for the next week. She came to his apartment to warn him not to bring Margot again to the restaurant even when he is not working, which she had realized was a dumb idea when she had already pressed the doorbell, and it was already too late."
"Alright," Bill replied, not looking at her eyes. "I'll see you next week."
"Alright," Hillary replied. "Enjoy your leave."
She quickly left Bill's apartment, salvaging what was left of her dignity. Bill on the other hand, remained on the door for a couple of minutes, pondering if he should quit his job if his feelings for Hillary were keeping him from moving on with his life completely. He was snapped back into reality when Margot called his name. He returned to her, lying seductively in his bed. He tried his best to push Hillary aside. He laid down beside her and whispered on her ear.
"Do you want me to fuck you in the shower?"