Starting a job as a sous chef at any restaurant has its initial hurdles. There’s getting used to a new kitchen, learning a new menu, and getting accustomed to the way service works, but for the first time in my career, I found myself struggling most with the fact that my new head chef was a gorgeous Asian-American woman in her late 40’s. The chefs I’d answered to thus far in my career had always been older, angrier men whose long careers in the restaurant business had rendered them bitter, and gruff. This couldn’t have been further from the struggle with which I now found myself confronted.

Melanie was as experienced, and confident as any chef for whom I’d worked in the past, but she was gorgeous. Her body defied not only her age, but the years of stressful work in busy kitchens. She wore her hair gathered in a bandana, and her checkered chef’s pants only served to compliment her hips, and the tightness of her ass. She looked professional, and well-kept, the picture of authority, which only made her sexier to me as I struggled in my first weeks on the job to remain focused on my work. I often found myself having to tear my gaze away from the way her nipples became visible beneath her starched, white chef coat.

Our relationship was polite, and professional. She supported my contributions to the menu, but offered the necessary constructive criticism when it was necessary. The succinct, matter-of-fact nature of our working relationship served only to enhance my attraction to her, and I found myself more and more frequently unable to rid my mind of thoughts of her. After a month or so, I introduced her to my fiancee. Her quick remark when we returned to the kitchen after they met was one that both surprised and intrigued me: “She’s gorgeous, and she earns a lot more than you. You must have a really good dick.” She said with a fleeting grin, before returning to work.

Christmas season came a few months into my tenure, and the intensity of the work increased with the volume of customers. Melanie was demanding, but fair, and our working relationship continued to solidify, along with my now aching attraction to her. It was after a particularly grueling dinner service that I found myself alone with her as we counted stock, and made preparations for the busy weekend ahead. I counted cans of dried goods on the top shelves which she was too short to see, and couldn’t help but glance down as she bent to record the tally of ingredients on the shelves below. Her checkered chef’s pants tightened on her remarkably firm ass, and I felt my pulse quicken as I noticed the outline of tiny thong underwear beneath them.

We moved to leave the storage area at the same time, and as I passed behind her, my cock (which had started to become aroused at the sight of the way her pants fit) brushed gently against her. I felt a sudden jolt, and not knowing what to do, continued as if I hadn’t noticed, and pretended to busy myself with the next set of shelves. Then I felt her hand reach around me and take a firm grip of my hardness. My heart leapt as her hand closed around what was now a rock hard erection, and I felt her breasts beneath her jacket as she pressed against my back.

“I wasn’t wrong about your cock, was I?” She said softly. Her breath tickled my neck as she spoke.

We didn’t need any more words. The tension that had been building over the past months had found its inevitable conclusion. I turned to face her, and placing a hand behind her head, I pulled her into me. Our lips crashed together, mouths parted, tongues thrusting to meet one another.

She wasted no time, and I felt her hand slide into the front of my chef pants, her fingers closing around the shaft of a cock which was now throbbing with need for her. I kissed her hard as her hand moved along my hardness, but I couldn’t stand any more waiting. I took a handful of her chef coat in my fist and turned her so that she faced away from me, her hands spread open on the wall of the store room. I slid an open palm down the small of her back and into her pants, my fingers moving her little underwear to the side, then feeling her silky arousal as they made their way between her legs.

I kissed the back of her neck as I authoritatively lowered her pants, and reaching around her, clasped my hand firmly on her breast. I felt her nipple harden in my fingers as I took myself in my hand and guided my hardness inside her. She gasped softly as I entered her, and reaching back, found my hip to pull me into her.

The intensity was instant, and profound. I pushed into her harder, again and again, as I felt the wetness of her arousal begin to drip down me. Our breathing intensified with the rhythm of my thrusts, and I felt her tighten around me. She moaned softly and I took the hand from her breast and moved it up her throat to her mouth. She took my fingers in her mouth, and clasped her tongue around them. I could feel her orgasm building as her lips tightened on my fingers. I fucked her harder as she came, and when I felt the rush in her subside, I removed myself and came hard, releasing all of me over her smooth, toned ass. Panting, I looked down as cum dripped between her cheeks, and onto the floor. She turned to face me, her face flushed, but her manner suddenly composed. She took my face in both hands and quickly but firmly kissed me, then keeping eye contact, she pulled her pants back into place, and gave my cock a playful squeeze.

“Well, now we know.” She said curtly, and with a glance over her shoulder she made her way into the small office to continue the work that had been suddenly interrupted.

Over the next few months, we would come together in this way several times. Always maintaining our professional demeanor, and never speaking so much as a word about these rendezvous in the time between, and while it’s been years now since we worked together, I can’t say that I’ve felt the throbbing, intensity of the lust I felt with her.