Page 78 of Collin: Episodes 1-3
“Quite.” Mr. Moreau raised an eyebrow. “Matthew was never embarrassed by his lack of knowledge again.”
“I’m sure I don’t know as much, considering what people usually ordered.”
“You have the basics, though. The rest can be taught with time and experience. It’s not an essential skill, but it can create doorways if one is fortunate enough to have it.”
“Do you have a favorite wine?”
Mr. Moreau laughed. He poured heavy whipping cream into the mixture and added sugar and vanilla. “I’m a bad Frenchman, I suppose. I’m not particular about my wine as long as it is French. Or Japanese. Sacrilege, perhaps. But only according to some. Plum wine is divine. My favorite alcohol is absinthe, but I rarely partake.”
“It’s strong.”
“Quite.” Mr. Moreau smiled, and his eyes slid away, focusing on something far away and not present. After a moment, he shook himself and started the mixing machine. The sound was loud, and he motioned Collin out in the hall.
“How are your hands now?”
“My hands, sir?” Collin looked down at his palms and curled his fingers inward so he could check his nails. “They’re fine, I think. What, was there something wrong?”
Mr. Moreau shook his head. But he smiled a little. He leaned back against the wall, hands in his pockets. “A long time ago, when I was a teenager, I had insomnia. It’s how I learned to bake. I lived with my grandmother at the time, and she swore that the older she got, the less she needed to sleep. So, I would come downstairs and find her in the living room, reading or stitching. And then she’d get up, and we’d go to the kitchen, and she would teach me to bake. We baked everything. One year, she bought a book that had recipes for baked goods from around the world. It was in English, so every day I’d translate one recipe, one day to French and the next day to Arabic. And she’d go shopping with the list so it was ready at night.”
“If you were baking every night, how did you get through school?”
“I wasn’t very good in school, perhaps. But I’d nap in the afternoon after classes and do homework while dough proofed or something baked. She’d sit beside me and read while I wrote essays and calculated equations. Then she’d check my work. So I didn’t do as badly as I might have.”
“She sounds awesome.”
“She was. So now, when Richard is busy at night, this is what I do.”
“You bake.”
“Yes. And I write.”
“You write?”
“Hmm. Yes.”
“What do you write?”
Mr. Moreau laughed. “Terrible things. Perhaps I’ll show you, in time.” He pushed off the wall and stepped inside the kitchen to check the oven and the cream.
Together they pierced the puffs when they came out of the oven and prepared them to go back in. And then it was time to wait again, this time without the noise of the cream being whipped. With all the dishes done, Mr. Moreau poured sparkling water and citrus bitters into cups over ice and motioned Collin to join him at the table.
“The puffs will come out soon. No point in leaving. They’ll have to cool for a while, and then we can fill them. Richard and Damian will still be some time before they come out.”
“Will they eat them?”
“Most likely. They’re both hungry after a session together.”
“Sex usually just makes me sleepy.”
“Me also though I learned years ago not to doze off right away.” Mr. Moreau sipped his drink. “If you are ever ungrounded, Collin, ask. It’s not a request that will be ignored.”
Collin dropped his eyes and looked down at his hands. So that was what Mr. Moreau had meant. “It’s hard not to feel like I did something wrong.”
“Damian is passionate. And he’s riding a high right now after his trip. But you’ve had a lot of changes, and, I suspect, a difficult day even before he came home. It must have been a lot for him to push you like he did.”
“I mean, I liked it. It was just…I didn’t know what was expected. And you’re all…you. And there were all of you at once.”
Mr. Moreau raised his glass in acknowledgement. “Remember, as much as you are learning the paths of this new life, Damian is also learning what it is like to not be Richard’s only submissive. Do not assume that everything he does is an order from Richard. And never assume that you can’t push back even in the middle of something. If you feel lost or ungrounded or overwhelmed, communicate it. Safe word or safe signal. Emotional limits are just as significant as physical ones.”
