The body, trying to erase the traces left on it, was helplessly caught before it could dart into the bathroom.
Jae-geon, who had embraced her from behind, laid Hae-som on the bed. Then, as if on a rowing machine, he pushed his body through Hae-som’s skin.
As her body trembled from the deepening foreign sensation, he scooped her trembling form onto his lap, and only after they switched positions did the insertion become smooth.
The body, having fought a second round, was exhausted. Hae-som tried to lift herself, her eyelids fluttering as if about to close, but then sank back onto the covers.
The main workday hadn’t even begun, and she was already ruined. The sense of despair deepened, knowing Jae-geon wasn’t the kind of boss who considered each individual’s condition.
Moreover, what day was it today? It was the day to be evaluated on the fig dessert she collaborated on with Woon-seop.
Hae-som was in charge of the fig dasik, while Woon-seop was responsible for the jujube dasik and pine pollen dasik.
If the dessert tasting passed without a hitch, Hae-som would naturally become part of the dessert team. The thought of parting with her beloved seniors—even though they were right next door—already brought tears to Hae-som’s eyes.
She quickly wiped her moist eyes and turned her gaze to the man beside her.
Leaning against the headboard, Jae-geon was engrossed in reading Savorin magazine. For some reason, she didn’t like that, and Hae-som pouted with clear dissatisfaction.
“Where’s the recipe notebook?”
She had definitely brought it home earlier. Her memory was hazy since it was thrown onto the bed.
Judging by the suggestive look in the man’s eyes, he seemed to have hidden it.
“Available for viewing anytime. No borrowing.”
He meant that if she wanted to see it, she had to come to his house.
Hae-som’s brow furrowed slightly at the obvious condition.
“There’s no such thing as that.”
“It’s material I’ve recorded my whole life; how can I lend it to you, Song Hae-som, when I don’t know what mischief you might get up to?”
“That’s not fair.”
His arm, which had been supporting his head, suddenly came out and wrapped around Hae-som’s waist. Could it be again? Her eyes widened in a circle as his lips met hers.
“So come by often to read it.”
“I don’t want to interfere with work.”
“I’ll take it into consideration.”
She absolutely did not want to receive special treatment due to personal reasons.
His fingers, which had been rubbing her pursed lips, stroked her reddened eyes, swollen from repeated climaxes. Jae-geon added an explanation.
“We’ll have a guest next week. They’ll be here for ten days, and due to the schedule, I’ll have to accompany them every weekend.”
“A guest?”
His fingers, tracing from her eyebrows down, pinched a sensitive point.
“Jean Jacques Lefebvre. My mentor, and the author of the cookbook you drooled over in your sleep, Song Hae-som.”
His fingers, which had slid down to her thighs, finally retrieved her clitoris buried in flesh. Her pearl glistened with residual moisture.
“I didn’t drool, though.”
“But you slept, right?”
“No, that’s not it, ugh!”
He pushed up with his knees, raising his body with a thrust, and placed one of Hae-som’s legs over his shoulder. Water trickled from her parted entrance.
The man narrowed his eyes, checked the flow of moisture, and pierced her without further notice.
“You know how great his achievements are; I don’t need to say it out loud.”
“Haaang, it’s too deep…!”
While Hae-som reached her climax immediately, Jae-geon was took his time. Hae-som always found that gap frustrating.
“He’s coming for a meal next Saturday. I’ll introduce you, so say hello.”
“Yes, Chef!”
As she choked out a response, both of her legs were still draped over his shoulders. His buttocks, toned from hiking, lifted high in the air, angling for insertion. Then, with a deep thrust!
Hae-som’s vision exploded with stars from his rougher thrusting. In the midst of the blinding, disorienting flashes, Song Ji’s voice suddenly brushed past her ears.
They say he’s going to cover the summer essentials and scout Jean Jacques for the fall special. He’s quite the distinguished gentleman, so it’ll take some effort.
This was a conversation they had when Ji-won was on a business trip to the US. Judging by the context, it seemed Ji-won was the one bringing Jean Jacques over.
Oh, speaking of which, isn’t he your chef’s mentor? I heard Jeong Jae-geon was the head chef at Argent.
Does Jae-geon know too?
Perhaps this was an opportunity to properly confirm his true feelings for Ji-won. Her small lips, set with determination, were slurped into Jae-geon’s mouth.
On a specially ordered round plate, three flavors of dasik lay side by side. They were petit dasik, about the size of Jae-geon’s pinky nail or Hae-som’s thumbnail.
Jae-geon raised his eyebrows slightly.
“Aren’t you going to explain?”
Clearing his throat, Woon-seop began at his urging.
“The dasik are fig, jujube, and pine pollen, presented as a three-course meal. We’ve arranged them in order of subtle fragrance, so please enjoy them from left to right.”
With a nod of approval for the concise explanation, he shifted his gaze to Hae-som. Her legs were trembling so much she could barely walk.
Woon-seop patted her tense shoulder.
“Som, don’t tremble. You worked hard preparing this.”
It wasn’t a psychological reason. Perhaps it was the after-effect of the sex.
As the saying goes, “You don’t know what you’ve got ’til it’s gone.” The absence of that small, adorable being, who was as light as down, during the ten days Hae-som spent at her parents’ house had been a significant absence.
The king-sized bed seemed as vast and empty as a sports field, and the nights, without the sound of colorful breaths, felt awkward. Even when she tried to eat out of hunger, her appetite plummeted because there was no one to sit across from and share the meal with.
Luring Hae-som with the recipe notebook as bait was to satisfy his own desires before any “proper education.”
His eyes fell on her fair face, which seemed to have lived well without him. For hours, he had bitten into her skin, leaving teeth marks on her yielding flesh, and thrusting into her tight passage.
With no one remembered, the two, who had fainted, woke up just 30 minutes before work and crossed over to Not.
Jae-geon picked up a curved fork, perfectly sized for his hand, and split a dasik in half. If the dough was too soft, it would be sticky like rice cake, and if it was too hard, it would crumble like sand.
After all the diligent practice they had put in, the dough’s consistency was indeed perfect. It was good enough to be served to guests without hesitation.
Jae-geon quickly covered his lips, which had begun to curve into a smile, with the pine needle granita. As the cool cocktail spread through his dry mouth, it added a refreshing sensation.
Woon-seop, his hands resting neatly on his thick belly, asked with a hint of nervousness.
“How is it?”
He thought that if he got angry, saying something like, “Did you make this garbage for me to eat?” he might be able to get Song Hae-som’s attention. However, the taste was flawless, making it impossible to find fault.
If he had to nitpick.
“Whose idea was it to put pine needles for the decorating?”
Hae-som, who knew his habit of chewing on pine needles, opened her eyes wide.
“What?”
“It lacks coherence. The only thing related to pine trees is the pine pollen dasik.”
“Then what would be a good garnish?”
“Isn’t finding that Song Hae-som’s homework?”
“Because someone kept interfering, I didn’t have enough time to study.”
As Hae-som protested, Jae-geon, pushed by Woon-seop’s exaggerate sweet pleas of “Aaaang, Cheff,” gave a hint that wasn’t really a hint.
“The garnish is that there is no garnish.”
The next day. As Jae-geon had predicted, the two met in front of Hae-som’s house at 8 AM and headed to Jong-woo’s farm.
Hae-som, who had been playing with the car’s built-in navigation, sighed.
“It must be traffic because it’s rush hour.”
“I suppose so.”
“If I had known, we should have met earlier. What if the service preparation is late?”
“What are you worried about? The head chef is here.”
Hae-som bit her lip.
“Still…”
“Still what?”
“It’s nothing.”
She was determined not to receive special treatment, even if it killed her. Her tightly closed lips parted only after they cleared the traffic jam.
“Chef. How do you decide whether to put a garnish or not?”
Jae-geon chuckled at the conversation, which stayed within the realm of cooking. The woman, who seemed completely indifferent to his aching heart, continued.
“It looked too bare with just the three dasik, so I put pine needles on it. And since the plate was long, I thought it matched well.”
Jae-geon smoothly turned the steering wheel.
“What’s on the plate should be edible. Whether to eat it or not is up to the customer.”
“Pine needles are edible too, aren’t they? You eat pine needles well, Chef.”
“Have you tried eating them with jujube dasik? Or with fig dasik?”
“Ah… the pine scent is too strong, and it overwhelms the flavor.”
“For single items like dasik that have a clean finish, it’s best to avoid garnishes if possible.”
“Yes, Chef.”
The Cadillac, entering the narrow road, moved forward without hesitation. Jong-woo and Woo-seong, who had come out to the entrance upon hearing of their visit, could be seen with the same expression, their hands sparkling.
Before even engaging the parking brake, Hae-som shot out like a bullet. She hugged Woo-seong tightly, and her face, exchanging greetings with Jong-woo, finally looked relaxed.
Leaning his chin on the steering wheel, Jae-geon smiled in exhaustion.
It was pointless to have kept her here with flimsy excuses like a farm tour or the recipe notebook. It was futile to try and occupy even a small corner of her heart.
He had expressed himself enough by now, but the person in question, Song Hae-som, was oblivious. It was also tiring that completely unrelated people kept interfering.
Therefore, the timing of his mentor’s visit was the worst.
With a companion, there were so many places they wanted to go, including Jae-geon. From Gyeongbok Palace, a must-visit tourist spot for foreigners, to Gangnam, Hongdae, and Namsan Tower. Jae-geon was horrified by the Excel schedule, which was like a replication of a fine dining timetable.
His irritation reached its peak, but there was no breakthrough. Jean Jacques was his benefactor and only mentor who recognized his abilities; he had to repay him properly.
Recalling the wrinkled face that constantly uttered “I love Korea,” Jae-geon pushed open the car door and stepped out.
The three, like a harmonious brother and sister, were by the greenhouse where root vegetables were planted.
Deodeok, burdock root, yam, ginseng, balloon flower root, wasabi.
This time, with what ingredient would he capture Song Hae-som’s attention? He wondered if burdock root, which wasn’t as scented as figs but was difficult to research recipes for, would work.
He slowly walked, parting the gentle summer sunlight.
Towards Hae-som, who was shining exceptionally brightly under the clear sky.
