27. Wife's POV [Part 2]

NOTE: This fictional story features only adult characters (18+) and portrays consensual interactions throughout.



He asked us to listen up, said he'd quickly walk us through the ingredients and the first dish. I stood still, nodding, trying to focus on his voice. But I could feel it, his eyes—not on me but my body. More than my eyes, I felt it on my chest. Like I was putting up a show to motivate him, to encourage him. Those quick glances…

Lina said it didn't look weird, the apron. So I tried to believe her. I told myself to stop thinking too much and just listen.

He explained everything smoothly—what spices went with what, the timing, the cuts—and Lina, as expected, jumped in with her usual questions. I didn't mean to join in, but somehow I found myself asking a few too. He answered them all without missing a beat, with confidence.

He then handed me some onions and some tomatoes to Lina. I took them without a word and moved to the cutting board, reminding myself again to just focus.

After giving him the ingredients, he went on explaining the next steps. His instructions were clear, and both Lina and I tried our best to follow along. I kept my head down, focused on cutting and measuring, trying not to think about anything else.

The kitchen was already getting messy. Vegetable peels, wrappers, and scraps were piling up everywhere. I figured I might as well clean a bit, so I gathered some of the waste into my hands and walked over to the bin in the corner.

I lifted the lid.

The stench hit me instantly. My face twisted in disgust. It was strong, sharp, and unmistakable. I blinked hard, trying to process what I was seeing.

Used condoms. A lot of them. Crammed, sticky, tied up. Some looked newer than others. A few had tissues stuck to them. The sight made my stomach twist, but more than that, my brain couldn't help but started counting them. One, two... five... ten... fifteen...

What the fuck.

I froze, still staring, heart thudding in disbelief. Is he an animal? How is it even possible? My brain kept trying to calculate. How many women would that take? Or how many times in a day?

I didn't even hear him come up behind me.

"Hmm," he said casually, like we were just chatting about the weather. "I was wondering what's taking you so long. And here you are... completely focused, staring inside the bin?"

My whole body jolted. I flinched like a guilty child caught red-handed. "Oh. I—I'm sorry. I was just—"

I quickly tossed the trash in and closed the lid, walking away without finishing the sentence. My face burned, breath quick. I didn't dare look at him.

"Forty-seven," he said behind me, loud enough that only I could hear it.

I stopped in my tracks. My spine stiffened. My heart thumped harder.

He added, casually, like he was just giving a grocery number, "That's from the last two weeks."

Two weeks?

What?

Forty-seven? In fourteen days?

I didn't respond. My lips stayed sealed. My thoughts weren't even forming complete words anymore. Just messes of panic and confusion. What the hell was I doing counting? Why did I even care?

He called out again, tone playful, teasing. "How about focusing on cooking? That's what you're here for, right?" A beat passed, and then he added, in a low voice, "Of course, I wouldn't mind if you wanted to focus on something else. I'm always free."

My skin prickled. His words hit like a shock to my nerves, shooting straight through my legs. I walked faster, heat spreading to my cheeks. What the hell was wrong with me?

I went back to Lina, head down, lips sealed. I avoided eye contact with her and just started working again. She didn't say anything at first, just glanced my way.

A moment later, he walked back into the kitchen.

Lina looked up at him and grinned. "Hmm? Now where are you coming from, Mr. Chef? Is there a private lesson going on I don't know about?"

I gave her a quick pinch on her arm, hoping to shut her up. She winced and laughed.

He chuckled too, completely unbothered, like it was just another joke. Like nothing had happened.

Trying not to let her jokes get out of hand, I forced a smile and said to him, "Please don't mind her. She makes these weird jokes all the time."

He met my eyes briefly, then said with that same calm voice, "Oh, I absolutely don't mind."

And I didn't doubt that for a second.

My thoughts were spiraling, no matter how much I tried to focus. Lina wasn't helping either. She kept making small jokes, teasing me, pulling my leg like always. I forced a few smiles here and there, pretending everything was normal.

We were almost done with the dish. The kitchen smelled amazing, rich and savory. Even I had to admit, it was turning out much better than I expected. The aroma alone made my mouth water.

Lina was grinning ear to ear, clearly proud of how it looked. When we finally plated it and took a bite, it was—well, there was only one word. Delicious.

We devoured it. All three of us. Barely anything was left on the plates.

He leaned back and said he'd write the recipe down for us. Told us to wait a few minutes.

We nodded and sat quietly. I stared at the table, but my head wasn't here. It was spinning with that stupid image again. That dustbin. Those condoms. The number he said. Forty-seven. No way that was real. That had to be a joke.

But… what if it wasn't?

What if someone actually went through that?

What kind of woman would be able to take that much? No matter how I looked at it, the idea was insane. And still, the thought wouldn't leave. The bin. The count. The stench. My eyes staring like an idiot while he walked up behind me.

Lina suddenly elbowed me lightly.

I blinked and looked at her.

She smiled. "What do you think? Wasn't I right about him?"

I didn't answer.

She leaned closer, still teasing. "So I don't have to beg you to come anymore, right?"

I gave her a faint smile, not really sure what to say. My stomach felt weird. Not because of the food.

Something deeper.

He handed us the recipe sheet.

"I hope I didn't disappoint you two," he said, eyes flicking between us. "And I hope… you'll both keep coming here."

Lina grinned, cheerful as ever. "Of course. Don't you worry about that."

She was already untying her apron, humming to herself, while I was still fumbling with mine. I hadn't even started when he stepped closer.

"Let me help you with that."

Before I could respond, he was already behind me. His fingers tugged at the knot. It was too tight. I could feel it as he was clearly struggling a bit to get it loose.

I stood there, silent, trying not to shift or breathe too hard. My skin felt too aware. Each tug sent a strange flutter through my stomach.

He didn't say anything. Neither did I.

Just his hands, at my back, working slowly.

And for some reason, that small silence was louder than anything Lina could've teased me with.

Lina noticed the awkward silence and finally stepped in.

"Here, let me," she said quickly, moving behind me.

Within seconds, the knot finally came loose. I exhaled, the relief flooding through my chest as the apron slackened. My breasts dropped from the pressure release. I didn't notice before, but my nipples were hard from the pressure.

Lina chuckled. "Seems like it didn't want to let you go."

I shot her a look, flustered, but she just winked.

We started walking toward the door, chatting casually about how well the dish had turned out. I kept my eyes forward, pretending everything was normal.

But just as I stepped outside, something made me glance back.

And there he was.

Standing, holding my apron—pressed to his face.

He wasn't smiling. Just staring at me from the corner of his eye, like a madman caught in a moment he didn't care to hide. My eyes were on him but my feet kept moving toward the door.

That look was hungry, dirty. I turned around immediately, pretending I hadn't seen it.

I stepped out quietly. The cooking lesson didn't make me full. If anything… it left me hungrier.