I wish I weren’t.
Did my dad have to do this crap when he owned the diner?
When I click on yes, the timer vanishes and the heading behind it catches my breath somewhere around my stomach.
Sexual relationships in the workplace.
Gulping, my eyes trail the rest of the screen, finger spinning the scroll wheel as fast as it’ll go to keep up.
Consult with your legal team to clarify what your company’s policy is regarding sexual relationships in the workplace. Common policies include prohibiting them entirely, or requiring notifying HR ahead of the relationship so as to avoid potential complications of a legal matter that may endanger the company.
What if I’m the one grinding on my employee’s leg? What then?
Blowing out a stiff breath, I nibble my lower lip in thought.
Am I supposed to put policy in place?
Do I report myself for coming on my chef in the freezer? Give myself a violation for an unauthorized orgasm?
In my defense, that was before he’d officially started, right?
It was definitely before I’d taken this course and had to consider putting a note in my own file for getting off in the walk-in.
Though, as the owner, maybe I can give myself a pass for one free orgasm. Surely that’s within my rights?
Maybe it’s better we just don’t worry about the fine print right now and focus on getting the restaurant up and running first, like I keep telling Wilder.
I click out of the stupid course and do the other task I haven’t been looking forward to. I reply to Wilder’s email.
When does the fun part of this job start again?
From: Heights Bites Management
To: Wilder Amante
Re: Menu Tasting
Chef Amante,
I can confirm all Heights Bites staff will be attending the new menu tasting this Friday at 4.
Even myself, as you specifically requested. Unless literally anything else comes up that can get me out of it.
With less than one week to opening, I hope you and the BOH team are ready with this new menu.
Don’t make me regret this.
Regretfully,
Heights Bites Management
A moanthat should never have penetrated my ear holes makes it to my consciousness. “Oh my God, Chef!” There’s a warble in the words that screams of a kind of pleasure few men have ever given me, and definitely not with anything other than their mouths.
One of the servers—Tracy, who is happily married to her high school sweetheart with three kids and two grandkids at forty-one—closes her eyes, head thrown back as she chews so slowly it looks like a kind of sensual moment my innocent kitchen doesn’t need to see.
Her free hand slaps the stainless steel surface of the line repeatedly as she takes way too long to chew the bite and finally swallow.
“Right?” Charlie’s not making pornographic noises, he’s far too wholesome for that, but his eyes are lit up in a way I only see them do when he has to run out to a fire call. Bright, almost liquid in appearance as he nods, licking his own lips, dark mustache twitching excitedly with the motion.
