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Ricky pulled his dark blonde hair into a low ponytail, then slipped the black chef’s apron over his head and fastened its ties at the back. The tapes hung down and tickled his naked butt, which made him smirk.

He studied his reflection in the long mirror in the bedroom he shared with Asha. From the front she would detect nothing amiss. He’d admit, top chefs wore shoes to cook, and probably a shirt, no matter how finely chiselled their pecs were. He turned and took in his side view, then the rear, where his muscled back and toned glutes were unimpaired by clothes.

“Business at the front, party in back,” Rick chuckled to himself. “Asha you’re a lucky girl, I have a treat – maybe several treats – in store for you!”

Padding to the kitchen in their modern apartment, he recalled the dreamy expression his partner’s face took on whenever she watched her favourite cookery show. That look had convinced him this surprise was one she would enjoy. He reflected on last Friday night, when they had gone for a meal to one of those places where the chef is working right in front of you, cooking and talking. Ricky had noticed her eyes sparkling throughout the experience, especially when he did tricks with the big, sharp knives. But it was in the taxi later that the full extent of Asha’s delight had been revealed… the return home was more fun than the night out itself.

In the taxi, once they were alone, Asha had snuggled against him and slipped her fingers between the buttons of his shirt to linger over his smooth abs before she began stroking the bulge in his jeans. With a groan, Ricky cupped her jaw in his hands and took control of her mouth. He plundered its depths with his tongue the way he intended to immerse other parts of his body in her heat, as soon as they got home.

“Wasn’t it exciting watching that guy prepare the food? The chef was so capable,” she breathed, in a way that made ‘capable’ sound like code for something more explicit.

“He knew his way around a kitchen alright,” Ricky agreed, struggling to squash a prickle of indignation.

“His hands were so… nimble,” her voice was hushed in awe, “I couldn’t help imagining them on me.”

“You want to be treated like a piece of meat?” he scoffed.