Page 65 of Why Cheese?
“The cheddar you gave me is gone. So’s the havarti. The fresh mozzarella. Um…” The broom tugs out of my hands and I turn to find Brie beaming at me.
“May I?” he asks, and I let go.
He takes the broom, but—before sweeping—kisses me on the cheek. Burning from ear to ear, Brie takes off gathering all the dust and debris on the floor.
“I see my idea of a tasting extravaganza was a rousing success,” Cam says surveying the utter destruction across the counter. The little flight cups are scattered to kingdom come and two of the wood planks to hold them are upended on the floor. He gathers up the boxes labeled for the flights in the refrigerated counter below.
“Yeah. It was…whew.” I don’t want to tell him that I was a nervous wreck with each group. Trying to read out the long, florid descriptions of each cheese while keeping an eye on the register line probably shaved a few years off of my life.
Cam sweeps a hand around my waist, pulling me close. “No doubt you wowed them with your enviable brilliance and tempting tongue.” Unlike Brie’s cute peck, Cam lavishes me with a kiss that kicks harder than five shots of espresso. I’m damn near melting around him, my thighs pleading for him to use his tongue between them.
Then I hear the rustle of a piece of paper behind me. “Even if you required a little assistance.” Cam dangles the cheat sheet I’d tucked behind the boxes so I could look before every round in front of me. Guilt chars my face, but Cam only kisses the tip of my nose, then my forehead.
“Wow!”
Out of nowhere, hands lock around my waist. They pluck me away from Cam and into the air. “You did amazing!” Cheddy spins me in a circle, his face buried against the small of my back. I have to duck to keep from banging my head on the pipes above. Before I accidentally brain myself, Cheddy slows and lets me fall back to the floor.
“Mateo never moved this much cheese in a day. You must be swimming in cheddar.”
“I, um… What?”
Roq punches the cash register, and the old drawer swings open. “He means how much money did you make. Hmm, less here than I’d expect.”
“Most people paid with their phone.”
They all look to the old yellow landline my uncle used for decades. Cheddy’s the one to pick up the handle and talk into it. “Hello? Do you have coin in you?”
“Not like…” I grab the receiver and place it back down. “I’ll explain it later,” I tell him. “But enough to resupply.” I try to assure Roq before I slap my forehead. “I didn’t get you any dinner. Or me. Or lunch.”
The thought of food encourages a roar from my stomach so loud it rattles the new posters taped to the pillars. I take a step away from Cheddy, and the burst of energy I got from Cam vanishes. My body wants to crumple in a pile and sleep for a week. I shake it off and, straining over the register counter, reach behind it for my purse.
“I’ll go get you something. How about…uh?” My brain’s a gray wasteland of exhaustion. The idea of calling for delivery dances through it, but that’s a luxury I can’t afford. Whatever I made today might cover utilities and more supplies for cheese, but that’s it. I’ve got to do better tomorrow.
Hands land on my shoulders and I jerk, shocked to find my chin on my chest. Then I trace the veiny, square wrists and naked, flexed forearms up to Roq’s face and I almost scramble over the counter. “Hang on,” he tells me and nods to the other three watching. “We’ve got dinner covered.”
The crushing weight of decisions and running errands evaporates. I risk standing up taller before I take in the four men who ‘sleep’ in a cellar all day. “What are we having?”
“Really?”
Cheddy stirs the metal pot that rests above a small fire. Beside him, Brie adds more with care so none splashes back. Cam grabs a skewer and dips it into the pot.
“Mmm. White, creamy, thick, and sticky.” He cups his hand under the skewer’s tip and brings it to my lips. I part them, uncertain of what to expect. A heavenly combination of sweet and salty dances down my tastebuds.
Cam watches me circle my tongue around the long skewer, his breathing shallow until I sit back. “What do you think of our personal creation? We put so muchloveandhardwork into it,” he asks and traces the side of my mouth with his thumb. A white spot stains the tip, which he sucks on while making fuck-me eyes.
“It’s good.” I moan, tempted to grab the pot and slurp it all up. Roq stands legs wide next to the pot resting on Mateo’s hot plate on the ground. He adds in his contribution, and I catch his eye. “But fondue?”
“What’s wrong with fondue?” The last of his sharp yellow cheese hits the bubbling gooey mass, shifting the color slightly.
“Ooh,” Brie calls out. He shoves one of the long forks through a square of bread, then dips it straight into the pot. When he yanks it out, cheese drips off in rivers. The second the combo hits Brie’s tongue, he hurls his head back and moans in orgasmic bliss.
I try to shut out the gasps that are turning this into dinner and a show. “It’s just, a little…”
Old fashioned?
On the nose?
“Wasteful,” I say instead. “Aren’t we supposed to sell those cheeses so we can make money so that you can make more cheese?”Wait. That doesn’t make sense.
