CHAPTER 23

"So, uh. Why'd ya hide the box, dust mop?" She pointed to his hands as he set it on the countertop.

"Would you want to cook for 5 every night?" He asked rhetorically. "If they'd seen it they would know I'm not too sick to follow a recipe."

"Ah. So you're good at faking it." She kept her lips closed and licked the front of her top teeth to hide her smile.

He looked over at her as he opened the box. "It's not that hard to fake it. Some people just need more help than others."

She knew he wasn't talking about the pancakes anymore. "What do you know about me not being able to fake it? That was just dirty talk anyway." She watched him as he moved around the kitchen, collecting bowls and beaters.

"Yes but if you can't fake the dirty talk, I can only imagine how bad you must be at faking it when your date is actually in the room! And you wonder why they don't last." He teased.

She narrowed her eyes at him. "There's nothing wrong with my dirty talk!"

He laughed haughtily. She hated that. She was supposed to be the snobbish one.

"Fine! Tell me what I did wrong instead of insulting me! And don't think you'll get me to sing the theme tune of Popeye because I won't fall for that! ...Again!"

"Toot, toot!" he began laughing and handed her the bowl of ingredients. "Grab the spoon and start stirring this first and then I'll tell you how you should do it." He said.

She did as she was told. "You know, this is nice... We're helping each other." She grinned while stirring.

He went to fetch the cinnamon and sugar, returned from the pantry and placed the ingredients on the countertop next to her. He mixed some of the cinnamon and sugar together and then picked up the cinnamon once more.

"You know, I read somewhere that cinnamon is supposed to be a kind of innocent aphrodisiac." He lifted it to his nose and smelled it. "The smell supposedly raises feelings of love and affection. In men mostly."

She watched him intently. "Really? And I thought you said you had nothing with which to drug my dates?!" She winked and he chuckled. He held the bottle to her nose for her to breathe in the scent. "Mmmm. Smells amazing."

"It does," he said. "And it should for a man like you," he teased. She rolled her eyes playfully. He moved to her side where she stood stirring the mixture. He placed a hand on the counter on the other side of her, almost trapping her between him and the counter. He smelled the hair at her shoulder and said, "What perfume are you wearing?"

"What?" She stopped stirring momentarily and looked ahead of her. She could feel his body heat behind her.

"The perfume you're wearing...?"

"Um. It's Chanel." She continued stirring.

"Do you wear only the perfume or do you use the scented lotion on your body as well?" He asked.

She was glad he was behind her so that he couldn't see her eyes widen and her mouth drop slightly. Why is he asking me this?

"Sometimes I use the uh, the body lotion." She said quickly.

"I'm sure it makes your skin feel smooth to the touch." He said in his deep baritone. She lost her grip on the spoon and flung a spot of the mixture onto her blouse by accident.

Shit!

He took off his apron and remained behind her as he lifted it over her head and tied it into place around her body.

She felt a little flushed and was confused by his behavior. "I thought you were going to help me!" She said. She was talking about the pancakes.

"I thought I was..." He responded. He was talking about the dirty talk.

"Oh..." She realized and looked at his face over her shoulder. He arched an eyebrow.

She faced forward again and continued stirring.

"It does." She said.

"Hmm?"

"It does make my skin feel smooth. Sometimes when I-" she stopped.

"Sometimes when you?" He pressed.

She laughed softly. "This feels weird."

"That's the last thing you should say during dirty talk." He chuckled. "Go on. It's all about being confident. I won't judge. This time." He grinned.

She looked at her bowl once more. She had stopped stirring.

"... Sometimes when I smooth it over my skin, I..."

"Yes?" He whispered.

"I imagine your hands doing it for me."

"Mmhmm."

When he didn't say anything she continued.

"The roughness of your skin on my..." She swallowed, "thighs. It makes me feel so... so..."

"Sexy." He whispered in completion for her.

She inhaled. "Yeah."

"What are you wearing?" He said. She paused "Niles..." She laughed quietly.

"Pretend I'm not here. We're on the phone." He said.

She nodded in understanding. "A pants suit. And a blouse. I took off my blazer though. I was hot."

"Don't you ever feel... constricted in those business clothes?" He asked, genuinely curious.

"No. Well, yes... but I don't wear them all the time." He didn't respond. She realized she should expand on it.

"I mean... I know how to let loose. I sometimes wear nothing but Chanel and my underwear around the apartment." He still didn't respond but she could hear him breathing behind her.

She continued. "My favorite is a pair of black lace... There is a part at the tops of my... ahem... breasts... where the fabric is sheer..."

"And the bottoms?" He asked, breathing heavily. She wasn't sure if he was faking it.

"They are sheer on the sides. I like that they tease. I like to tease. You'd have to... remove them... to get a better look."

He exhaled and she felt her hair move with his breath. I'm not too bad at this, she thought, smiling to herself.

"What would you do to me if you were here? In my apartment," she asked, putting the ball in his court.

He let out a soft sigh. "I would..." He sighed again.

"I would walk you to your kitchen."

"Kitchen?" She asked.

"You never use it anyway." She could hear the smile in his voice and she smiled too.

"... You would lean your back against the counter, wearing nothing but your black lace, Chanel No.5 and a light silk robe loosely tied at your waist..."

She could picture it. She had a silk robe in red. It was her favourite.

"...You'd order me to make some coffee for you." She giggled and he smiled at the sound.

"I'd complain that I didn't work for you but I'd do it anyway. I'd put the kettle on boil and move towards you. You wouldn't know what to do... Try to fight your urges because of our stations in life." Her smile dropped and her breathing became shallow. He was being so specific.

"I'd just look at you for a moment. Take in the curve of your body and wonder if you'd let me come near you."

She swallowed. Is this what he thinks about me when he looks at me? Or is he just this good at faking it?

"You'd lick your lips and I'd think of all the times I'd watched you do that. All the times I thought about you spreading on that red lipstick and who would be lucky enough to smudge it in passion with you."

The things he was saying were astonishing to her. Nothing too raunchy or vulgar yet so sensual.

"I'd insult you and you'd become frustrated. But I'd do anything to see you flustered." She gasped when felt his chest against her back as she accidentally leaned back into him.

He paused, just as surprised by the contact. She stayed put against him so he continued without moving.

"You would insult me back and toss out a deep, almost evil laugh and put your hands on your hips. I would feel myself twitch at the sound of your laughter."

He turned his head, pushing his face into her hair and half groaned, half whispered, "It always gets me going."

Her eyes fluttered closed and she exhaled through her nose.

"You'd come closer to me and call me names." She said, wanting a part in how this played out.

"And you'd secretly love it." It was a question, yet he said it as if he were confident it was true.

He beamed when she agreed with a slow, steady sigh, "...yes."

"The tension would build and you wouldn't be brave enough to make a move." She whispered, barely audible.

"Yes, I would."

"I was talking to myself." He was surprised at her honesty.

"So I would do it for you. To protect your pride and stubbornness."

She chuckled. "What would you do?" She asked.

"I would reach out to you. Say something about your robe being too tight and cutting off the blood supply to your failing brain."

She smirked. "Smart ass."

"It would give me an excuse to pull at the ties of your robe. It would open and I'd pretend it was an accident." He said.

"I'd pretend I believed it was. But I knew better. I'd catch you looking at my body. Wishing you could touch me. Me wishing."

"The kettle would stop boiling." He said.

"No, leave it."

He smiled. She was talking as if she was really there. Anticipating his every move.

"I'd step away from where I was leaning against the counter... Step closer to you. I'd slowly lift my hair from inside my robe and let it fall at my shoulders."

"I'd reach out to your neck to make sure it was all out... Any excuse to touch your hair..."

"Your hand slowly lowers to my shoulder. I can feel the warmth of your hand through the silk."

"I can barely stand this," he says honestly. He's referring to the dirty talk and their current position. She thinks he's describing the scene they were creating.

"I can't either. So I take your hand and place it inside my robe, around my waist. You start feathering your hand lightly up to the bottom edge of my bra and down again... Past my waist, to my hip, to my panties." CC gasped and clenched her hands on the edges of the countertop.

Her reaction to the story was making him crazy. Just hearing her talk about it was making his trousers feel constricted. He leaned against her, shifting her closer to the countertop in front of her where their pancake mix stood, forgotten.

"I'd pull you tightly against me." He said.

"I feel your erection against me. I keep thinking I can't believe that I turn you on like this." She panted. She could feel it against her ass and it made the scene in her head so much more realistic.

"I've never been more attracted to anyone. So powerful and vulnerable at the same time. So untouchable yet so touchable... I find you so incredibly sexy, Miss Babcock."

"I've never felt sexy. You make me feel sexy," She whimpered and moved her hand up to her breast, surprised by what she was doing in his presence. But this is what she was supposed to do during dirty talk, wasn't it?

"I'm touching myself, for you, Niles."

His blood rushed to his penis at the mention of his name from her lips in such a context.

"I wish I were there to touch you." He pushed himself slightly harder against her. He had her pinned with her front against the countertop.

She moaned. She reached for his hands, which were clenched on the countertop on either side of her of her body. She placed his hands on her hips and then she slowly moved them to her belly button. She heard him sigh hard. "Miss Babcock." He said enamored.

She loved the way he called out her name. She slid his hands up to her breasts and squeezed his hands over them to squeeze her cups. He groaned and pushed himself hard against her.

"There's nobody here to stop us." He said.

She shifted slightly backwards against his crotch.

"I know. What the hell are we doing?"

"We started too early." He said.

"We need learn to stop ourselves without help." She panted.

"I don't know if I can." He said.

She was silent for a moment, burning the feel of his hands on her into her memory. "You just need to move away from me slowly," she said but didn't remove her hands from his on her breasts.

"I don't know if I want to." He said. "I mean, do you want me to?"

She didn't say yes. "Stay still," she whispered and dropped her fingers from his hands to wrap them lightly around his wrists.

"... If I don't turn around and we don't move for a while... We'll catch our breath...right?"

He didn't answer her. "We can let this haze blow over us and when it's over we'll come to our senses and make these pancakes. We'll eat and I'll leave. Then you can go back to bed and get some rest." She said. "Then everything will go back to normal."

He nodded against her shoulder. She let go of his hands and he lowered them to her hips, still standing tightly against her. He turned his head into her shoulder and deeply inhaled the scent of her hair.

She tried to distract herself, occupying her mouth by dipping a finger into the sugar & cinnamon mixture that was sitting in front of her on the countertop. She lifted her finger to her mouth to taste it but he took hold of her wrist and put his lips around her finger, licking it. She shivered and couldn't trust herself to look over into his eyes.

He licked his lips and watched as she stuck the same finger into her own mouth and licked her lips alike.

"We're hopeless." He said.

"You started it."

"And you finished it." He said.

"I never finished. You would have known if I had... After all, I'm no good at faking it. And I'm no good at being quiet." She teased.

His eyes widened. "You are going to kill me, Babcock." He slowly released his hold on her and started to shift away.

"Anything I can do to take your breath away, butler boy."

"Well, if I'm allowed to choose, this would be preferable to you strangling me."

"Strangling? ... Don't give me ideas," she winked and smirked at him.

He laughed, "If it happened again, I doubt the judge would be as lenient with you as he was last time." He warned.

"So I choked a choreographer... It was one time! He deserved it anyway." She joked.

"He deserved it? Or you needed it?" He teased.

"Well... Maybe I was a little frustrated that day. I wonder who could've got me so worked up before I went to the theatre, hmm?"

"I know, I know. You don't have to say it!" He said as she watched him pour some of the batter into the pan. "Mr. Sheffield can be so annoying sometimes!" He rolled his eyes in exaggerated annoyance.

She knew he was joking. She nudged his ribs with her elbow and smiled as she lifted the same finger into her mouth again.

He plated a few pancakes and she sat at the table and grabbed the cinnamon and sugar mixture to pour some of it onto her own plate. She got up to walk to the pantry.

"Here you go." He said, holding up a bottle of lemon juice. She looked behind her and turned back from the pantry wondering how he knew what she was going to look for. She took it from him and they both sat down to eat.

He lifted his plate to smell the pancakes. She watched him then looked over at the bottle of cinnamon on the countertop, thinking about the piece of trivia he'd taught her earlier.

She took a bite of her meal and smiled.

"This is nice." She said. She was talking about their shared company.

"Mmhmm," he hummed in agreement while chewing. He swallowed and smiled at her.

They finished their meals in silence. Glancing at each other between mouthfuls.

"I should go." She said as she rose from her seat. He took her plate and walked to the dishwasher to pack it inside along with his own. Then he quickly walked towards her again. She hadn't moved.

Well, this is awkward! She thought.

He looked behind him at the backdoor and then looked back at her. Maxwell was due home soon.

"I'll just go through here then," she said and moved towards the backdoor.

He opened the door for her. "Okay. Um. So, I'll see you tomorrow then, Miss Babcock." He reached his arms around her waist. She was surprised and lifted her hands to rest them on his shoulders but stopped herself just in time when she realised he was untying the apron she still had on.

"Yeah. See you tomorrow, Niles." She said as she walked closer to the door. "Get well soon." She took a few steps backwards.

Should I wish her sweet dreams? He thought. Too much, he decided as she turned and walked away.

"Goodnight," he called out.

She turned to look at him and smiled. "Goodnight, Niles." She reached her car, got in and pulled away.