Summer is Cumming!

My hotel chef has hired a line cook, an 18 year old at the beginning of her training and hopefully a career. 

Background. 

First forget all about Gordon Ramsay and his vile behavior in the kitchen. I wouldn’t take that egotistical bullshit for a second from any of my department heads or leadership staff. Rachel is nothing like him. She runs her kitchen with an iron fist in a velvet glove, but considers any time she has to use the iron fists as her failure not the staff member. 

Summer. 

I first saw her while she was squatting down looking under a prep surface. Had I been there an hour later she’d have been in her chef’s whites, and therefore trousers. As it was I got a perfect view up her dress…..and creamed myself on the spot. Miss Brain pressed the shutter on my camera and committed the image, in high resolution of course to my ‘wank bank’ and ten minutes after my introductory ‘welcome’ chat I was looking at that image and rubbing myself like a bitch in heat. 

Summer by name, summer by nature. She is excited and exciting. The kind of personality that could brighten a rainy day. Sparklingly intelligent too. But oh…..that image! So, I was wrong, she’s 19 and has one year at catering college, but because we’re now affiliated, she’s doing her second year with us, or at least part of it. THAT'S yet to be determined. Whether she stays or becomes permanent is not up to me. I don’t interfere with my heads of departments. If Rachel thinks she’s good enough I cant bring anything to the party. 

And so, pleasantries over. I took her to the staff wing to show her the room that will be hers. Miss Brain, naturally, came out to play with a few “imagine her naked in the shower’ and ‘just think, she’ll my lying on that bed soon rubbing one out.’. Adding ‘and maybe  thinking about you as she does it.’ All of which did nothing for my state of arousal or the dryness of my panties. 

Back in my office, I closed the door (same rules here as at home. No-one knocks or tries to come in if the door is shut. (Anyway, masturbating behind a door that isn't locked, where anyone might forget and walk in is wildly arousing for me.) Meanwhile, Miss Brain sat me down, prepared a tub of mental popcorn, and slowly revealed the ultra-hi-def image she had captured earlier. Summer’s beautiful perfectly sculpted legs wide apart. Her pale green panties clinging perfectly to her labia, and not a single escaped pube. Then there was the line. That distinct line of discoloration that began just below her clit and traced down to a widening, coin-sized spot telling me precisely where her hole was. Wet just enough to stain the material and change its colour. Oh, how I want to find out what she smells like….and tastes like. 

Girls’ panties are always something of an enigma. There’s the washing liquid/fabric softener scent, but also that scent. A girls’ unique sexual scent of musk. But, no matter how clean she keeps herself, there is always that faint hint of pee there too which, together with the musk scent makes for the complete picture of femininity. For someone with a nose like mine, when a girl pees on me, it’s like an explosion of pheromones. I think of it like when you develop a photograph. A sheet of plain paper goes in, you swill it around in a chemical bath and suddenly, this wonderful, complete image appears. Personally, I believe it’s no coincidence that pee ‘develops’ the scent of pheromones.

Miss Brain had also captured Summer’s boobs too. As small as mine! Now, there’s something new. Up to her, almost every girl in any of my places is at least a size bigger than me, but  not Summer. And I know, absolutely know that she wasn’t wearing even a trainer bra and, that her tits would be absolutely perfectly shaped. Sometimes, people reminisce about a ‘perfect summer’, well, I suspect I’ve got one working for me. 

While I thought all these things, of course my fingers were busy in the wet swamp between my legs, while my mind turned to the one thing not visible to me in the kitchen….namely what Summer does for sexual relief. It wouldn’t surprise me if she’s a virgin, but neither would it surprise me if she is a crazy, sex-hungry monster too. Then I realised that Miss Brain had caught something else. The middle finger Wil on her right hand is much shorter than the rest. A clitoral masturbation finger if ever I saw one. That gave me the image of her lying on the bed, legs spread, hand in those delightful pale yellow panties and rubbing her clit furiously on the very edge of an orgasm. Her left hand under her top and pinching her nipple as she breathed out my name. “Ooh…Anna…..yes…..finger me….lick me…..make me….” 

There was no need for more, since (mentally) both she and I came in our panties. 

Well, no. Of course I won’t try and seduce her. Anna’s rule No.1, remember? But Summer will have a laundry babe, just like everyone else. There may be an opportunity for a little panty searching with any luck. It feels a little like the days when I’d hang out in the locker room at school, ears straining to hear anyone else’s approach while I indulged myself with other girls’ panties. Sometimes, I do something very similar in my pubs and here at the hotel….only if circumstances present themselves. 

Walking back through the place, in my now very wet panties, I caught sight of Summer again. Rachel has put her on veg prep for dinner. A terminally dull job, but an essential one. Looking at her diligently cutting and trimming with the others told me how well she was fitting in/ oh, there’s a;ways competition in a professional kitchen, a Ke no mistake about that, but unlike many, all the line cooks here are free to take ideas to Rachel and if she a[proves them, we buy the ingredients for a ‘chef’s plate’. The cook with the idea makes the dish, then it’s evaluated. If it’s any good, it goes on the menu and the cook concerned gets a share of the plate price. I want creators….experimenters…..people who take risks. 

But I also think I’d rather like Summer…..preferably sitting on my face.