Kept for His Appetites Read Online Free

mustard onto them. The tit man – well? Nobody introduces me, what am I going to call him? The tit man takes his time watching me come in, watching me lay out the plates, the dips, cutlery, napkins, watches me take the empty tray back down the steps. Watches especially whenever I lean forwards. When I come back with cups, glasses, coffee and juices he watches again. He doesn’t stop whatever it is that he’s saying. Doesn’t miss a beat. But he also doesn’t miss a chance to watch my breasts moving under the tunic. And the legman is getting his sneaky eyeful, too. I don’t catch whether the man that my interest centers on is watching or not. Kaysha came over, almost running. As she got up close, she collided with the tray I was picking up, and dips went flying. Guacamole and red salsa dip was all over my pants. She said,
     
    “Oh, I’m so very sorry,” in that odd kind of rattling purr that she has, and as she said it she practically poured a cup of hot honey and mustard down the inside of my leg. I grabbed a couple of napkins and cleaned up the best I could, and I felt our host’s hand firm, heavy and warm on my shoulder. My cheeks were burning, hotter than my thigh was from the hot sauce. He said,
     
    “Don’t worry. André will clean up. There should be a spare uniform in the cabin next to yours. Just take your time. Take a shower if you need it, we’ll all be fine.” and he looked at me. His eyes were smoldering, but I couldn’t read the look on his face. I felt so stupid. Nothing makes an adult feel stupid quite like having sticky, multi-colored food on your clothes in public. I looked at Kaysha and she was wearing one of those innocent little girl looks. I wondered how far it was from the skydeck to the water if you took the quick way. I made a hasty withdrawal, with no feeling of poise or elegance whatsoever.
     
    In the shower room below decks, I was able to sponge off the tunic, I didn’t even have to take it off. The pants were a wreck. I shrugged them to the floor and headed for the adjacent cabin to hunt for spare clothes. This little cabin, same size and layout as mine, was recently occupied. Maybe currently. There were a couple of books and magazines, there were women’s clothes in the drawers and hanging in the closet. I found a fresh pair of chef’s pants. I was afraid they would be too small, but no, the opposite. These were bigger than mine. That was kind of a surprise. Maybe I could find a belt or something to tie them with.
     
    I caught sight of myself in the mirror. The buttons on the tunic were still open on one side, down to the waist. It was wet at the side, right where it said, ‘Splash.’ A big hunk of creamy breast swelled and fell under my white bra, there in the shadow. Otherwise, the tunic covered me down to the top of my black, sheer panties, and my legs were naked below. For some reason I started to remember him on the skydeck coming over, coming up behind me. Feeling him, behind me. The weight of his hand on my shoulder. The heat of his body, just behind me. Just behind my ass. I could have leande back, and felt the whole of his body against my back. I remembered the feeing and the taste of his finger, in the diner. My breath got thicker. I felt heat in my panties, warmth and wetness. The scent rose to my nostrils. Food and feeding is always a sensual business, but I didn’t feel like this working in the diner. Not even on nights. Not even on the sticky hot, funky hot, summer nights.
     
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    As the sun was going down, I was putting sliced ham and cheese, some olives and dressed watercress and spinach leaves onto a tray when I realized that the boat was moving. All day, we’d been bobbing on the water, but still in the marina, and I had got used to the idea that we weren’t going to go anywhere. Well, now we were going somewhere. Where, I hadn’t the slightest idea. Could be around the island, could be Spain for all I knew. I took the