THE SPECIAL BREAKFAST
Meanwhile, miles and miles away, Virgil, who was just about to fall asleep, was suddenly startled by the voice of his little brother, screaming out his name.
“Eron… What happened to you that you finally unblocked your mindlink? Bro, I really hope you will talk to me soon…”
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“Uuugh, I feel like a truck rolled over me,” were Diwana’s words as soon as her alarm clock went off as if it was the siren signaling the end of the world.
Unwilling to get up and start her day, Di immediately pressed the snoozed button on the digital alarm clock that was on the nearest wooden bed stand. Her actions granted her at least another ten minutes more of peaceful slumber before the poor brown-eyed homeowner had to go downstairs and prepare her wares for the lumber camp.
To her dismay, not only had Diwa had a psychic sexual encounter with the man she had been secretly lusting over from day one, but her sleep was interrupted by the pained screaming of her room’s next-door neighbor, and, after getting her body covered with his freshly bathed smell, it was almost impossible to sleep again.
“Now that I think about it,” she said to herself, softly and barely awake, not even opening her eyes, as her mind started visually summarizing the way her last shower had gone. “It was absolutely amazing that he seemed to like me being in his room last night, despite his nightmare and the fact that he was totally nailed.”
And the truth that Diwana couldn’t easily brush off was that she had an eager partner during that ‘dream’. And she was more than willing…
Her face blushed once more, and just like that, the buxom stepmom buried herself inside her bed covers. To make matters worse, she remembered how she ran to him without properly dressing up and entered his room, climbed his bed and then was embraced tightly by him.
“As if things weren’t awkward enough… I’m completely sure that he noticed what happened in the shower… Gosh, Diwana, you screamed his name as you came, how in the world would he not know?”
But then, the vision of him fully naked was truly glorious and mesmerizing. It was a wonderful mental image that she would even make an effort to remember in detail.
The memory of Mason tried to push through for just a second. But Diwa, as easily as she could, quickly thrust it away from her mind.
“No, my dear late husband, you can’t compare yourself to him… Especially if he does it like how he did to me in that… whatever kind of dream that was.”
Sex with Mason was mostly forceful. Even if he, from time to time, was caring and soft with her. He had no idea how to please her at all!
Regrettably, that was something she had to learn on her own…
In the middle of her visualizations and memories, the alarm went off again, and this time she knew she couldn’t, – or shouldn’t – turn it off this time. After throwing a long and thin robe over her short, silk lilac-colored nightie set, Diwana sleepily walked downstairs to the kitchen.
It’s a good thing that there was nobody awake at that time to notice what she was wearing…
“Now that I think about it, there is no instance of me having a real orgasm with Mason… Poor guy, I don’t know if he ever noticed that I was so unsatisfied, but being completely honest. But I didn’t even care for that until I found out how to climax and sexually please myself only after he died.”
The Wolf widow took a few of her pre-cut vegetables, and some more foodstuff that she needed to slice and placed them in order near her cutting board, then turned on the oven, for pre-heating. Afterwards, she took a large frying pan from a line of hooks on the wall and placed it on top of one of the burners, switching the fire on to a medium-low flame. Finally, she set a deep pot on the stove and also placed it on medium heat.
Beside her well-cared-for stove, Diwana lined up a stick of butter, a bottle of sunflower oil, salt and pepper, which were the only spices she would use in powder form. Also, she arranged a large box of heavy cream and a bottle of white cooking wine beside her first few seasonings, then swiftly moved back to her chopping board so she could begin cutting her needed vegetables for the dish she was preparing.
The thing is, even if there was a lot that Di needed to do, she had as much practice as a well-experienced restaurant-trained cook that, to Diwana, everything she cooked was in order and perfectly timed without the need for a watch.
The beautiful tanned cook was so used to her routine that even as she quickly cut her peppers, onions, garlic and ginger, she was still able to see in her mind’s eye how her experiences in bed had been with her late husband. Diwa couldn’t help comparing it with what happened in her head between her and her new renter.
From the fridge, Diwana took a covered bowl of crimini and shiitake mushrooms, pre-cut by her the night before and added them to the pot, a large spoon of butter, some thyme, and garlic and allowed it to brown so she could mix these with the soup later. She then moved to get the meat and chicken that she was going to use for her special pasta, also from the fridge, placing them between the stove and the cutting board, then finally taking a few bags of pastries from the fridge.
“Oh, I’m almost out of these. When I come back home, I’ll have to prepare more,” Di mumbled as she lifted a bag of uncooked pasta to estimate how much was still in there.
Afterwards, Diwana carefully placed the raw pastries she took from the freezer on a large buttered tray, whipped an egg and then brushed it on top of them and placed everything in the oven. Erica was the one who usually watched her cook, and was always amazed at how her stepmom would make it look not only easy but like a beautiful dance that she performed daily in her kitchen.
All that effort for her kids, but it couldn’t be more evident than when the Asian mail-order bride overflowed with love and affection every time she cooked.
Diwa poured some of the corn oil on the hot pan and threw in more garlic, some onion and ginger slices, then stirred the mushrooms that were now ready for the chicken stock and heavy cream. At the last minute, she then added the chopped meat and chicken to the medium-sized pan.
“Three minutes for that to fully cook. Now while I wait, I can…”
“Good morning mama,” the slightly chubby female teen finally said after watching a little bit of Diwa’s apparently coordinated dance and seemingly choreographed cooking.
“Oh,” Diwana said in surprise. “Have you been there for long, Erica?”
“Not really. I was just enjoying watching you cook. If a certain guy looked at you doing that kind of magic, he’d definitely fall for you.”
As if she wasn’t embarrassed already, Diwana heavily blushed again, since she seemed to know the certain “guy” her adoptive daughter was referring to…
“Oh God, Eron… I will be seeing you later today… Well, of course, I will! He lives here already, remember? Are you going crazy now, Diwana? Sigh, maybe if I leave before he comes down for breakfast… or after? No, I promised, I mean… we…” At this point, Diwa zoned out from the the world through her thoughts. “We… promised… that I… so we could… ugh…”
“Mama?” Erica called out worriedly, bringing Di back to reality. “What is it? Why are you…”
“Oh? Yes! The food!” Diwana said aloud, ignoring what her older surrogate daughter just said, as much as she tried to overlook how nervous she was to see “him” that morning. “I still have to pack them later after I’m finished cooking the creamy Alfredo pasta!”
Another deep pot was placed on the fire. With Erica’s assistance, it was soon filled up to half its capacity with water. A pinch of salt and a tablespoon of margarine were added, then it was left to boil.
“I can start packing now, Mama D.”
Erica started preparing the food containers for her adoptive mom’s goods for the lumberyard workers, specifically the portioned and packed cakes pies and tarts that were already baked, pre-packed and ready. After the top-heavy lass was done with packing, she then started her preparations for the family’s breakfast.
“It’s very unusual that you’re so quiet,” the younger lady observed as she told the older one this, with a teasing smirk.
“Oh, I didn’t sleep very well last night,” Diwa admitted, deep in thought, “Sadly, I think that my face will stay red and get even redder as the whole morning progresses. Ugh, if only the earth just opened up right now and swallowed me whole…”
“Huh? And why is that?” Erica asked her broad grin instantaneously tainting her voice.
“I had an… awful nightmare,” the widow explained as she stirred the pot and added the uncooked spaghetti noodles to the boiling water.” But I forgot everything about it when I woke up this morning.”
The meat and chicken were tossed up and down in the pan, and a splash of wine was thrown on it, producing tall flames that caused Erica’s eyes to shine as she looked on.
“Mama, I’ll never get tired of watching when you do that,” she gushed, finally distracted from the topic that she had been teasing her mom with earlier.
“Yep, that is definitely quite a show. I have a friend who used to be a cook, and I believe that he would love to see a fellow expert cook at work as well… I mean, it’s truly a spectacle, what you’re doing right now, Diwana.”
The low charming masculine voice came from the entrance of the kitchen. And it’s a very familiar vocal sound, at that…
“I know, right?! I’ve always told her that she is amazing,” agreed Erica enthusiastically. “Good morning to you, Eron. How was your sleep? Have you gotten used to the house already?”
“I think I have, Erica. Thank you for asking, and good morning to you too, Diwana,” the ex-assassin-now-tenant answered then greeted, surprisingly in a shy tone when he was addressing his very busy landlady.
The difference in the renter’s voice was so obvious that Erica noticed and stared at him. He was slightly blushing and his eyes were a bit swollen as if…
“Oh Eron, you didn’t sleep well last night either?” blurted the dark-haired teenager with a sly smirk again.
“But I did. It’s just that I was just too exhausted from my run after a while of not exercising,” the youngest Camden replied, sheepishly smiling and scratching the back of his neck, his cheeks still dark pink. “That’s why I’m slightly sore all over now.”
“Mmhmm… I see. And is that why you are up so early, too?”
“Well, I couldn’t sleep anymore, so I came to offer my services as a kitchen helper for the breakfast preparation if you ladies would have me.”
Diwana was ‘completely’ focused on her cooking, stirring, mixing, tasting and pouring, while unsuccessfully trying to hide the sudden strawberry redness of her ears and face.
“Sure, you’re more than welcome, right mama? We thank you for your help, too,” Erica assured the boarder with a big, genuine grin on her face. “In advance, that is.”
“Yes… uh…. Hi, Eron…” Diwa timidly greeted, finally turning and bashfully smiling and yet not able to look him in the eye. “We really appreciate your help,” she quickly blurted out and then turned back to rushing again between all that she was preparing.
Erica looked at Eron, her face a mix of confused and embarrassed expressions, realizing that she would be, strangely, the one who would teach their new and willing “helper” what to do.
“Oookay… um, for now, I’m helping Mama pack a few things, so, if you like something special to have for breakfast, you can tell me and I’ll get you the ingredients you need.”
“Oh, that sounds good!” the rookie lumberjack exclaimed with a smile. “I’m an expert sandwich maker, but I also can try preparing omelettes. Do you kids like that?”
“Eron, I really hope your plan works for something… the breakfast that your brother and you used to make to apologise to your mom and dad… Talking about older brother memories…” he thought as he talked with Erica, still slightly sad about his dream/nightmare, but showing a bright and charming smile nonetheless.Content © NôvelDrama.Org.