victim of love (acadie) wrote in polyplay, @ 2015-02-08 09:07:00 |
|
|||
Celeste loved to bake when she was frustrated.
She was not one for cooking - she had caterers to tend to her glittering charity gala events and "quaint" evening dinners (the ones where she invited the creme de le creme of Austin society and they ate seven courses off of bone china and crystal stemware). Celeste knew how to live and eat well. Carter could admire the primal sex appeal of his wife's Chanel lacquered mouth wrapping around a bit of filet, still bloody. Celeste was not a shrinking violet about food or sex or any of the body's desires. That's why they were made for each other.
Yet, the act of cooking seemed to inspire a feeling of tedium in Celeste. It was too Feminine Mystique to her.
"You would like that. Having me fat and barefoot in the kitchen." she would coo, her haughty eyes flashing at the thought. "With a baby on my hip and a frying pan in my hand."
Cooking was work. Baking was play. Boy did she love to play. That is how Carter found her in the kitchen, naked save for a string of pearls and her lace panties. Baking had more of a sense of decadence to it. From the looks of the kitchen, she had been up for quite a while. There was a pan of banana bread cooling by the window. On the kitchen table, there was a freshly iced red velvet cake. Mm, red velvet described her perfectly - a little dark, a little tangy, yet mostly sweet and so delicious.
"Never," he murmured into her hair. She usually kept it red. It matched her fiery personality. Celeste was a woman of many moods and Carter had weathered every storm - her auburn tempests, her raven storms, the bubbles of her butter-blonde phase.
Carter reached around her, sticking a finger into the bowl brimming with brownie batter. He licked his finger nearly clean, tasting the heaviness of the butter and the fine grit of the pot she had used to make the brownies extra special.
"Craving chocolate?"
"Craving something," she hummed. Carter followed her faraway gaze, watching her as she watched the new neighbors. He hadn't been formally introduced yet, though he knew some details through Celeste's recon.
The Nichols were a young couple around their age, a refreshing change of pace from the mostly middle-aged makeup of their neighborhood. They were high school sweethearts finally done with their college schooling. The ink was barely dry on both their diplomas and their marriage certificate. They were originally from somewhere that sounded hopelessly dull - Utah, Iowa, Kansas...Carter had not cared enough to remember. Though knowing Celeste, she had catalogued every detail she managed to glean as she flipped her hair and laughed her charming little giggle, wrapping them both around her fingers.
That was Celeste's style. She loved to bake. She loved to play.