Disclaimer: I own nothing. Most of this is borrowed from Glee, the author, Twyla Turner, role plays, and other sources. I am just the juggler keeping all these perspectives in the air as this story is told for our fandom.

Chapter Three

April 25, 2023

"What the hell do you wear to a cooking class?" Mercedes asked into her phone.

She had her other bestie who was in London on speaker phone as she stood in front of her closet, wrapped in her silk robe.

"I wouldn't know. I'm just dressing in whatever my stylist gives me." Santana said.

"You mean, like you always dress since you have a stylist and are all rich and famous now?"

"Exactly. As for you, you don't want to get food all over your good clothes if it gets messy."

"Not that I really have anything that I want to get food all over that aren't my workout clothes. But I'll figure something out."

"Alright. Have fun. Miss you and Love you."

"Same as always."

Mercedes tapped the red 'End' button and tossed her phone on the bed. She cocked her head to the side as she stared into her closet. She rarely ever went casual, so she barely had any casual clothes. Her staples were dresses and skirts with heels. She smiled to herself. Easy access.

For someone who enjoyed an impromptu romp in the hay or a quickie, dresses and skirts made life a lot easier. But she figured she'd probably be on her best behavior tonight.

Mercedes snapped her fingers, remembering that she'd bought some form-fitting red overalls with gold details a while ago that accentuated her lush hips and round ass. She grabbed them and shimmied them on. She pulled a fitted white crop top on and latched the straps of the overalls. She slipped her feet into a pair of white wedge heel sneakers with gold metal accents.

In her spa inspired bathroom, Mercedes pulled her curls up into a strategically messy bun. She left out a couple of curling tendrils to lay against her neck and temples. She finished her "casual" look with light natural makeup, a glossy nude lip, and large, gold hoop earrings with a gold choker on her long neck that looked a lot like a submissive collar.

Ha! I wish.

Mercedes often fantasized about finding a man who was dominant enough to lead in the bedroom. She'd screwed plenty of men and absolutely none of them were even close to being more alpha than she was. They pretended to be, but in the end, she always crushed them under the pointed toe of her stiletto heels.

In her everyday life, running her own business in a competitive market, she had to be a boss. An alpha female. Always slaying. It would be nice if she had a man who took the lead to give her a needed break. But when most men realized that she was sexually open and aggressive, they'd go from tiger to kitten in record speed.

"Can't I get a Dom/sub FWB relationship with no mushy feelings involved, where the man has a big wang, can break my headboard, and give me multiple orgasms without me having to ask? Is that too much to ask?" Mercedes asked her reflection.

She raised her eyes heavenward and let out a frustrated breath. Her phone chimed that she had a text. She rushed into her bedroom to grab it.

Tina:

We're outside.

"Alright Chef Boyardee, here we come." Mercedes said to the room as she grabbed her purse and headed for the door.

Quinn:

I'm sorry. I can't see you anymore.

Sam's stomach dropped as he read the all too familiar text, staring back at him. He sighed and collapsed back in his buttery soft leather office chair. He stared at the ceiling for a few minutes. Feelings of anger started to override the overwhelming disappointment he felt. He sat up straight, pulled up her number, and pressed the call button.

The phone rang several times and he thought that she'd let it go to voicemail. But then he heard her voice laced with annoyance. "Hey, Sam."

"Quinn, what is going on? I thought we were having a good time. I do not understand sugar." Sam said softly into the phone. His Southern accent is more pronounced in his agitation.

"Don't call me that. Don't try to butter me up with your Southern charm."

"We were having fun?"

"Yes, but-"

"But what?!"

"I can't deal with your past. It makes me uncomfortable." Quinn admitted, echoing the sentiment he'd heard over and over again in the past five or so years.

"You weren't uncomfortable last night and the night before and the night before that." Sam growled.

"You're great to screw around with. But anything more than that isn't realistic, Sam."

"So, you were just going to break up with me through a text? I do not deserve the courtesy of a call or face to face?"

"At least I didn't ghost you. I could've not said anything at all and just blocked you."

He had experienced that before too. She was right. A text was preferable to nothing.

"Fine, Quinn. Have a nice life."

"You-"

Sam angrily swiped the end button, cutting off the rest of her sentence, and then threw his phone on his desk in disgust. He didn't know why he was so upset or even surprised. This was his life. Attracting women was no problem. His looks and accent drew them like flies to honey. But keeping them past a couple of weeks was next to impossible. Once they found out about his past, it was over between them shortly thereafter. Hell, sometimes they already knew about his past. In fact, that's what drew a lot of them to him. Moths to flames, and all that. They only wanted to use him until he was ready to get serious.

But no matter how many times he was dumped, it still stung. Sam loved love. He loved that connection between two people. Unfortunately, he hadn't been in a serious relationship for at least ten years. And he was beginning to feel that it was hopeless.

He got up from his chair and strode out of his office and towards the kitchen of his restaurant, Evans. It had been his dream for most of his life. He'd finally saved up enough money five years ago, at the age of thirty-five, to leave his old life behind and start the one he'd always imagined for himself. And now, finally, he was receiving the recognition he'd been dreaming of since he was a ten-year-old boy living on a farm just outside Knoxville. With a lot of hard work, Evans had finally become a Michelin-star restaurant and was the hottest restaurant in the Bay area.

Evans may have been his dream, but he'd be lying if he said that he didn't work his ass off to make it successful for CeCe. She'd come into his life two years ago, and changed everything. Too bad his success went ignored by her as well. She, too, opted to focus on his past life and hated him for it.

Sam walked through the swinging doors into the kitchen. His sous chef and a pretty waitress were flirting with each other. She threw a mushroom at him and they laughed. An imaginary fist squeezed at Sam's heart witnessing their playful exchange.

"Do neither of you have anything better to do than play around?" Sam barked and the two jumped apart guiltily.

"Sorry, Sir." Sugar said, looking away.

"Sorry, Sam." Rory, his assistant and right hand said with a frown.

"The evening rush will begin in another hour or so and the food hasn't been prepped. The silverware and napkins haven't been rolled. And this kitchen should be gleaming before the chaos begins. Yet here you two are playing footsie like schoolchildren. And where is everyone else?" Sam let his loneliness and jealousy take over his mood.

He was normally a very laid-back boss. Well, until the place became busy. Then he became a drill sergeant. But that was to be expected in a high-end, Michelin-star restaurant.

"A couple of the guys are out back taking a smoke break. And a few others should be coming in in a few minutes." Rory said.

"Then I suggest you get everyone in here. I have to head to my class, and I need to know that you've got it under control here while I am gone."

"Yes, sir. I've got you covered. I promise."

"Good. I'll be back later this evening." Sam clipped before turning on his heel and heading out to his class.

He was tempted to cancel the class for the evening. He wasn't exactly in the mood to teach or to deal with his "students" who always fought for extra attention from him. Who tried to hit on him, vying for a date.

I don't know why they even try. They never stay.

"What's this guy's name again?" Tina turned around to ask Kurt.

Kurt shared a long metal table with Mercedes, directly behind Tina.

"Sam Evans," Kurt answered back.

"I hope he really is hot for your sake, Tee. Because that's all the eye candy you're gonna get tonight." Mercedes thought out loud.

"Right?!" Kurt grumbled and looked around the packed room with a frown.

Mercedes's eyes also scanned the room. The class had room for twenty people. All of which were women. All the ladies tittered excitedly as they waited for their teacher.

"Not exactly what you were hoping for, was it?" Mercedes asked Tina.

"Not. At. All." Tina pouted.

There was a commotion in the doorway in front of the large kitchen that drew everyone's eye. Mercedes could've sworn that the other women in the room held their collective breaths. A man walked through the door in relaxed fit jeans and a nice button up shirt that was untucked and the sleeves rolled up his veiny forearms.

The room filled with the sound of soft sighs, while the four friends had varying expressions. Kurt blinked several times and pushed her glasses higher up on her nose to see better. Tina's mouth practically hit the stainless steel table. Santana started coughing uncontrollably, as if she'd choked on her spit. Mercedes had to admit she was feeling a little parched herself.

"Hello," he said with a soft and smooth Southern accent to the room at large.

"Oh my…" Kurt breathed.

"Screw me with a white peen!" Mercedes groaned quietly.

"Whoa!" Tina shook her head as if she was trying to clear the cobwebs.

"So…I really do love Blaine. But is it wrong that my mouth just became exceedingly dry?" Kurt swallowed hard.

"Boo, live a little longer. You're human and will always find other men attractive. There's nothing wrong with it, as long as you don't act on it." Mercedes explained.

"No, I'm not interested in going that far. I just want to look at him for a while."

"You and everyone else, honey." Mercedes turned back to face forward.

Her well-practiced eye took him in. Sam Evans's hair was quite distinguished with streaks of silver through his dark blonde hair Long enough to have that sexy tousled look, like a woman had run her hands through his hair during a passionate session of lovemaking. But short enough to comb back, throw on a suit or tux, and fit right in with the elite.

His green eyes were piercing, but it was his lips that drew the eye. So thick and wide. And a body that was meant to be ogled along with hands so big and perfect. If he looked at her just right, her clothes would surely burst into flames and disintegrate at her feet.

The Southern chef also had facial hair. Not a full beard, or scrawny mustache like Shane's, but not a five o'clock shadow either. It was somewhere in between. Mercedes could imagine its sting against her face and between her thighs. And it surrounded the most luscious of lips were sinful. Unusually full and incredibly shapely. And deliciously pink.

Those lips know how to pleasure a woman. Mercedes had a sixth sense about those kinds of things. And it was telling her that those lips had plenty of practice.

"Alright, everyone. My name is Sam Evans and over the next four weeks, I will be teaching you some meals and cooking techniques that will leave your friends and family green with envy at your skills. Or, at the very least, believing you hired a caterer and tried to pass off the meal as your own." He announced with a mischievous smirk.

The class cackled like hens in a henhouse when a cock comes home to roost. Many probably laughed harder than they usually would, in the quest to gain a few extra brownie points. Mercedes just smiled and assessed her competition.

"Before we begin, I have printed out name tags for you all to wear and keep over the next month. Even though the class is not very long, I do not want to call all of you 'hey, you' every Thursday evening. I will hand them out to each of you so that we can have a small introduction and I can put a name with a face." Sam said, pulling out a bag of nametags. "When I call your name, please come forward."

The room began to chatter excitedly at the thought of being able to make an individual first impression on the sexy Southern. He began to call out each person's name. Mercedes almost laughed out loud as women strutted down the aisle, one at a time, like it was the catwalk at Paris Fashion Week.

Her friends, never able to pretend they were something they were not, each walked up with their usual flare. Tina tried not to stumble, but tripped on an imaginary crack in the floor anyway. Sam reached out to catch her and smiled kindly at her as she flushed. And Kurt quickly walked up, grabbed his tag, squeaked out a 'hello,' and rushed back to his spot.

"Oh Lord, I'd never be able to talk to him. He's too…too…something." Tina fanned herself as another woman was called forward.

"Agreed," Kurt nodded. "Even if I was single, I could never approach him."

Mercedes grinned. "Don't worry, ladies. I got this."

"And last, but not least… Is there a Mercedes here?" Sam called out looking around the room to find the last face he hadn't seen yet.

Mercedes stepped out from behind her table into the aisle. For the first time, since he walked in the room, Sam's eyes found her. As she walked forward, she didn't need to fake strut. The breadth of her hips and the fullness of her ass did the work for her. And his eyes traveled up her body slowly, savoring her form like a feast before him.

When his eyes reached hers, she saw the desire there, right before he squashed it seconds later as she stood before him with her hand out. Her four-inch wedge sneakers put her at his chin, and she immediately noticed his eyes were a little more hazel with subtle shades of blues but still more green than anything. He dropped the tag in her left hand, trying to avoid touching her. But Mercedes held out her right hand, forcing him to shake it or appear rude. The instant his hand touched hers, flames licked up her arm and radiated all over her body. Her glossy lips popped open. His pupils dilated and his nostrils flared. His tongue peeked out to wet his full lips. Mercedes could've sworn she felt that lick on her lady bits.

Sam cleared his throat and then spoke thickly, "It is a pleasure to meet you, Mercedes."

"The pleasure is all mine, I'm sure, Mr. Evans." Mercedes practically purred.

"Please, call me, Sam. No need to be so formal. Mr. Evans sounds like my father." Sam said warmly, although he stepped back to put some distance between them.

Mercedes smiled, since that was exactly how she felt when people called her Ms. Jones.

"Sam," she let the name roll off her tongue.

She lowered her head slightly, looked up at him from under her lashes, and gave him a small, sexy side smile. Then she turned and headed back to the table she shared with her friends. The women she passed on her way, cut their eyes at her. The daggers their eyes threw would have surely killed her if they could. She smiled even more.

"Game. Set. Match." Kurt whispered as Mercedes pinned her nametag to the strap of her overalls.

"Girl! The look in his eyes when he first looked at you was book worthy," Tina hissed under her breath as she clapped her hands together.

"I'm quite certain the other women in the class were ready to fight you to the death." Kurt added.

"We shall see. He seemed a little standoffish." Mercedes shrugged.

"Yeah," Tina scoffed. "About as standoffish as me if I was on a sugar-free diet for two weeks and someone waved a strawberry shortcake in my face."

"Alright, everyone." Sam clapped his hands together to draw everyone's attention. "Now that introductions are all taken care of, let's cook."

His eyes scanned the room as he talked, but when his eyes landed on Mercedes, they lingered a bit longer before moving on. Mercedes felt tingles in her tummy. A feeling she hadn't experienced since she was in high school staring across the classroom at Shane. A chill ran down her spine and she pushed the feeling away.

"Today, we will start off easy. Something that sounds difficult and fancy, yet only takes thirty minutes or so to prepare and cook. Feta and herb crusted salmon, paired with braised potatoes with garlic, shallots, and herbs. In front of you should be everything that you will need, including your aprons. I will bring around your salmon." Sam informed his class.

He tried to focus on the room at large, but his eyes couldn't help but go back to the beautiful woman in the red overalls. She was the most bold and sexy woman he'd seen in a long time, if ever. And he'd been around a lot of plastic and even some natural curvy bodies in his lifetime.

Many of the women in the class had approached him with forced bravado or bashfulness. Not, Mercedes. She had walked towards him with purpose and direct eye contact. She was unabashedly herself. It was obvious that she embraced her lush body, if her form fitting ensemble had anything to say about it. And she was definitely the type that when she saw something she wanted, she was going to go get it. By the look in her eyes, she wanted him.

That was what Sam was afraid of. He knew a sexually confident woman when he saw one. He'd dealt with many. But he'd been crushed way too many times in the last several years. He wasn't sure he could handle another. So, he tried to rein in his interest. Though it was not easy.

He turned away from the class and opened the industrial sized refrigerator. He reached in and grabbed the tray of fresh salmon filets. He closed the door and headed to each table to pass out the filets to his students.

He interacted briefly with each student as he passed out the salmon. Sam's eyes surreptitiously wandered over to Mercedes. Hers was the only name he could remember by heart. Maybe it was because it was as if someone was whispering it in his ear over and over again. He found his way to her table. Her friends smiled brightly at him, but it was Mercedes that his body was attuned to. She gazed at him through knowing, pretty brown eyes and gave him a half smile. The look was sexy and spoke volumes. It held a promise of intense pleasure.

Sam looked away.

She more than likely just wanted sex from him. Like every other woman in the room. He was starting to feel like a joke. A freak show. He felt weary. Tired of being some woman's plaything or conquest.

Sam wanted something serious and nothing was going to stop him from getting that. Not even an exceptionally beautiful woman who appeared to be a master at eye-secing from a distance.

He quickly made his way to the other side of the class. He never considered himself a coward or shy. His former career wouldn't have allowed it. But something about that woman put him on edge.