Its Never Been So Hot in Here (closed for Katiebaby92)

Brandon Wyles was a chef instructor, he had learned his trade and spent time traveling throughout Europe before settling in Los Angeles. His travels took him through Paris, where he fell in love with the people and the food culture. Tuscany taught him the meaning of experiencing a meal. Now, 43, less strapping than in his youth, he still had a keen of eye and skilled hands that sung when he worked.

For the past 15 years, Brandon has been a private chef for the Hollywood elite, brushing elbows with the lives of those he craved, seeing the world of his desires through the pantry of his clients. It was only within the past 2 years that Brandon had begun to use his talents to teach. He was becoming intoxicated with the bevy of beauties that were looking wantonly upon his skills, but they were never interested in anything more than his knowledge. There were many ways to instruct, the most effective for him had always been hands on, though it proved the most distracting as well, especially in the case of his latest student.

Katie Gorris had grown up in the South, with everything she could have ever asked for- a southern belle of sorts. Her father owned quite a large business that earned them millions of a dollars a year, and she had never gone without. However, her parents were often on extravagant vacations or out on business so she practically raised herself, not taking to any of the nannys her parents hired to their staff. That being said, the money never really got to her head. Yes, she was confident, but she was kind hearted and always taking care of others before herself.

Recently however she had moved to Hollywood, to experience a different life and finally escape her family- even though they were rarely around. The one thing she lacked though from her skill set though, was cooking. Having the money to spare and wanting to new experiences, she hired who she had been told was the best of the best. She sits on one of the leather couches in her much too over sized pent house as she waits for the chef to arrive anxiously, messing with her phone to pass the time.

Looking up from his GPS, Brandon realizes what part of Beverly Hills he is in. And the scribbled "PH" on his assignment reminds him that this is a wealthy client, the penthouse of the four building nearby were all exclusive locations.

He looked for the contract, they would have to get some details out of the way tonight, if he landed the job. He pulled into the gate, fumbling with the name Katie Wyles, giving the attendant his card and his confirmation of appointment. There was no way he would get into this building without several layers of verification.

He heard security make the call, though he did not hear the client's side of the conversation. It was painstaking, but the best usually were slow to obtain, hard to hold onto and a pleasure each time a check went in the bank.

Brandon stopped the guard before he lifted the gate and swung his knife kit up from the back foot well.

"I need you to know about this so there are no issues down the line. These are my tools and unless the client is prepared with something similar, I need to take them up with me."

The guard seemed put off by another inspection, working his way through the kit and pulling out knives, peelers, corers, his sharpening steel and items that brought an 'are you serious' look from security before he dumped most of it back onto the seat leaving Brandon to sort and put it all back properly.

"Get going." The guard motioned him on, as he followed a green and yellow electric vehicle to a parking spot.

As Katie continues to mess around on her phone, she jumps a little when she hears it start to ring, answering it quickly and putting it up to her ear. "Katie Gorris," she says softly, her southern accent still present even though she's certainly no where near anyone that speaks the same way, not in the city. She finds it's just security confirming the arrival of the chef and I nod, answering all of their questions, finding the whole process to be a bit tiring but understanding the necessity. They tell her they are about to release him and she hangs up the phone, standing from the couch and looking down at herself, realizing she might be a bit over dressed.

She walks over to the full length mirror in her bed room and smooths her red hip hugging dress down, becoming fully aware of how much it accentuates her fit body along with all of her curves. She's shocked out of thought again by her phone ringing, as the security mentions a set of knives. "Oh for god's sake, he's a professional! Stop giving him a hard time and let him through," she snaps, rolling her eyes at the tireless security, even though she knows there only doing their jobs.

She glances at herself in the mirror one last time before walking into the kitchen, making sure everything is order as she mulls over what the chef might be like. She can only hope she doesn't embarrass herself too much.

Most of the buildings in LA were less than 20 floors, with the threat of earthquakes, not many wanted to risk the cost of a rebuild. Hollywood had its own style, however, this building was 25 with the penthouse occupying 26. He made his way to the elevator, under escort (he might have seen his escort as a jailer with the keys and baton his was sporting), waiting and following instructions until they arrived at the upper floor.
They stopped at the lobby of the 25th and he received his final instructions.
“Don’t piss her off, her family owns most of the surrounding block. She’s young, but don’t get no ideas about that. If she asks you to go, you go. If she wants you to stand outside the door for 20 minutes, you take the elevator to this floor and she will call it back when she is ready for you to return. You are asked. (it was fairly plain that being asked was the same as being told) If you can’t live with this for any reason, you best turn around now and get back in your car.
Several nods and repeated instructions and he was in the elevator to the loft on his own. It was a quick trip. He barely had time to check his own attire in the polished stainless of the door before it opened and deposited him in her penthouse. He smoothed the black chefs coat, pick a bit of lint from here and there.
“Ms Gorris? It’s Brandon Wyles here for our appointment.” He waited to hear a response, holding his position at the elevator door.

She floats around the kitchen making sure everything is in its right place as she awaita the arrival of the world renowned chef, aware of the fact that she was the client but it still made her nervous. She recieves another message from security alerting her that he was on his way up in the elevator and she rolls her eyes, laying her phone on the counter. "They really don't tire from their job," she mumbles to herself before her ears alert her to the elevator before the new voice does.

"Ms. Gorris?" she hears first, smiling a little at the formality even though it makes her feel like her mother as she walks towards the opening of the elevator. "Chef," she smiles, nodding her head. "Please come in, and call me Katie," she appraises him blushing already, motioning him in. She hopes to ease the professional atmosphere a bit. "My apologies for the interrogation from the security," she laughs softly, and holds her hand out for his to shake.

At once he is off balance. Could this be the person that security had warned him about? She had identified herself at once, so there was no mistake. He did his best to remain professional while taking her in.

The accent and hospitality were the last things he had expected. Honestly, he anticipated a rich, spoiled little girl who had found a way to spend daddy's money. Instead, he seemed to be confronted with a southern belle, a natural people pleaser who just might want to learn something. Of course having a celestial body wrapped in red was more than he could have asked from a blind date.

Try as he might, he was having difficulty not feeling out of sorts at this introduction. Still, he took a breath and reached for her hand to formalize their acquaintance.

"Ms Gorris, Katie... Thank you so much for the opportunity. You have an amazing space here. It would be an honor to assist you in whatever it is you would like to learn. That is your objective, I surmised, that you want to hone your skills in the kitchen?"

She smiles brightly at him as he outstretches his hand, seemingly after they both had time to take each other in. She shakes him hand firmly but with a lady like quality to it as her eyes run over him subtly.

To say the least, he wasn't what she expected. If she were being totally honest with herself, she wasn't really sure what she expected. Maybe the Paula Deen type? She wasn't expecting a man this handsome or this polite and well trained.

"Yes, that is the objective," she nods her head in confirmation and turns to lead him towards the frankly state of the art kitchen that had been put to little use. "It's one of those things that never came naturally to me, and I hate to have all of this," she motions to the extravagant kitchen, "-and not have any use for it. I just hope I don't embarrass myself too much," she says sweetly, a light blush casting her face as she turns towards him again.

In his haste he realized he has forgotten to introduce himself, a faux pas which might be overlooked, as he had been vetted by the security crew. But he felt a inkling of regret at having missed this opportunity. Her hand was gentile, firm, accepting and polite. Odd that he would get so much from the repetitive act. Her eyes were bright, curious and her smile was infectious.

Perhaps this was an act, this Scarlett O'Hara he followed through the open and spacious layout of her penthouse. Whether real or contrived, her training was impeccable. He might have expected her to ask him to her debutante ball.

Brandon could not help but be mesmerized by the sway of her hips, Katie was every bit a woman. How old was she, he wondered, to be off and seemingly alone in this big space and city. She had the physical appearance of 21, perhaps, but her refinement advanced her maturity level.

The kitchen was a studio masterpiece. Brushed stainless appliances, granite counters, one slab cut whole for a floating island that made his head spin. He'd been in some elegant layouts, but this was state of the art, every conceivable appliance, convection and traditional. He saw a salamander over one of the ranges, some designer was given the space and pulled some ideas from a commercial kitchen to fill it all. His knife kit seemed small and insignificant in this space.

When he returned his gaze to the young lady in his presence, she was demur and beaming, excited to show him the space, or to have company or to embark upon an adventure. There was no way to know and for now, it seemed of little importance. What mattered at the moment was making certain that he was able to return.

Brandon pulled a bottle from his satchel, a short run cabernet that he'd had bottled with his own label. It was a decent wine, nothing extravagant, but drinkable. The winery in Sonoma had struck a deal with him, offering him their overrun, and packaging and shipping to him on a monthly basis. Their benefit was to be able to sell the same label in their storefront and advertise that they bottle an exclusive for Chef Wyles. Looking at the bottle, he was ecstatic that he had forgone the photo label choice and simple committed to Wyles Vintners.

"What a stunning space you have here, Ms... Katie." With the charm and grace of her upbringing, he thought he might have struck a compromise. Referring to her as Ms Katie from that point forward.

"Please accept this as a thank you for the opportunity to assist you on your culinary journey. I have made a few treks myself to learn what I could, it would be my pleasure to accompany you on yours." He smiled genuinely, thankful that he had something to offer this beautiful young woman, who seemed more prepared for a date than a meeting.

Brandon stopped, wondering if she was indeed alone in this space? She might be alone at the moment, but there could be a Mr Gorris, father or husband, in the wings as well.

She sees him pull the bottle of wine from his bag and tilts her head curiously, wondering if they'll be cooking with such a nice looking bottle of wine until she hears his words and smiles at him again, "Well thank you," she blushes. "It seems a bit much to me but," she shrugs humbly beforw taking the bottle of wine from his hands.

"Thank you so much," she blushes as she repeats the words. "Mr..?" she trails off, feeling distraught that she still hadn't gotten his name. "I'm sorry, it seems my southern hospitality has failed me," she laughs shaking her head before moving to put the bottle on the corner of the counter. "And no need to thank me, really. You may need to drink from the bottle before the night is all over with. The thanks should be all to you," she laughs again, rolling her eyes. "Believe me. But it is a welcome and sweet gift,"

"I hope I have anything you may need, the kitchen is fairly well stocked I think," she pauses worriedly before walking over to the refrigerator and apntry, looking through them briefly, feeling a but embarrased by some of the microwaveable meals but shrugging it off, surely he'd seen worse. "I'm not really sure how you start these meetings off though, I assume there is some kind of contract,"

"Perhaps we should start again? Good evening, I am Brandon Wyles, your chef de cuisine for the evening." Holding his hand out yet again, he certainly hoped she would take it, there was a comfort in having his mannerless introduction forgiven.

He plucked a card from his jacket pocket, placing it neatly on the counter, face up, turned in her direction.

She nods and places her hand in his again, shaking it and smiling. "Katie Gorris, but like I said earlier, you can call me Katie. And I'll be your student for the evening," she says lightly a playful undertone to her voice. "It's nice to meet you Chef Wyles," she adds.

She notices the card and picks it up, glancing at it for a second before walking over and slipping it into one of the drawers in the kitchen so she won't lose it. "I hope you feel comfortable here. Can I get you anything?" she asks turning back towards him, the fact that she's the client not phasing her.

He was almost assured that nothing would be missing from the kitchen, nor was there any need to return with his knives. Her array of Henkel knives stood proudly polished against the magnets near her vented, inset gas grill. It might take him time to acclimate to her layout, but someone had given good thought to planning. He could snoop through her drawers (this thought alone brought a smile to his lips), but even he might find something unfamiliar there.

He whistled quietly at the quality, Wolfe ranges, subzero refrigerators, refrigerated cabinets, all nestled out of the way, leaving ample preparation space. He imagined the camera placement to capture the process of making some intricate meal.

“Normally, we would begin by discussing what you wish to gain from our time together. That would give me an opportunity to ask a few questions and get a sense of where you are today. I have a wide variety of clients, some are looking to show off for a night for their significant other, family or friends. Others simply want to be able to follow a recipe without having to look up cooking methods, understanding measurements or that age old issue of timing a meal so that everything is hot and ready at the same time.”

His eyes were meeting hers as he discussed family, friends and expecially the phrase 'significant other', but she showed no sign of recognition as he spoke.

She watches him as he assesses the kitchen, and she feels a sense of pride as he seems to approve it. She may have not had a lot to do with it, but she always took pride in her belongings.

"I think I'd be more part of the latter group, just looking for some basic skills and hoping to learn new things, from the best I presume," she smiles fondly before leaning against the counter directly across from him, trying to not let her eyes travel across him anymore than polite, finding him more handsome than she probably should.

Her thoughts travel to the idea of a significant other or family to cook for, yearning for it almost but trying not to get too far off topic. She doesn't want to miss something he says and seem like a ditz.

"I think that is fine place to start. If you don't mind, could you tell me what your comfort level is in the kitchen?"

He pulled a standard contract from his satchel, there was little in it now, after the departure of the wine bottle. It was a basic agreement that laid out the space of time, frequency and availability. It also left room for financial compensation, which Brandon hated more than anything about his job. He always felt that he was trying to sell his clients something he would rather give them for free. But it was his way of making a living. Cook books had been hot, but nothing compared to the speed and accessibility of the internet. Even Brandon carried a web browser with him when working, it was easier if he needed some assistance with a meal with which he had no familiarity.

“Considering you wish to accomplish, I would say we could meet once or twice a week for a few weeks to see how quickly you feel comfortable and confident. Do you have a completion date in mind?”

He wasn’t seriously expecting her to say next year, but perhaps he was hopeful!

"I have basic skills, but I definitely couldn't cook anything too intricate though," I smile, biting my lip slightly and looking up at him as he pulls the contract out, running her fingers through her hair.

"I think that's a good idea, but to be honest not really. I'm not in a rush or anything, I just want to gain experience as we go, and maybe we can decide this later on. You might get tired of me. Plus you're a very busy man," She sighs blushing a bit, finding herself wanting to spend more time with him for some reason, even though she doesn't know you well.

Brandon checked on a few items and finding them immediately, formulated his next question for Katie. He pulled out a carton of eggs, a whisk, a loaf of potato bread and a bowl, whisk and a cast iron skillet.

This was the best way he had found to determine several things about his clients. Their willingness, determination and sense of control under pressure. This was not a difficult task, most rose to the occasion, but some showed skills he hadn’t anticipated.

“So, we are going to make a very classic dish.” Most would nod and say French Toast or Pain Perdu if they had more knowledge. “We are beginning with a classic from the Wyles family called Toad in the Hole.”

She watches as he gathers ingredients, curiously trying to figure out what they could be cooking with them. She brainstorms a few ideas before turning to listen to him, giggling a little when she learns what they will be making.

"Lucky for you, I think that's something I can handle," she says smiling at him putting her to some ease, knowing she won't embarrass herself, at least the first day. "Am I supposed to take the lead or will you?" she asks curiously as she steps closer to him and the range, not sure how he normally goes about his lessons.

He flips the contract over to write the recipe out long hand on the reverse.

"Oh you will most definitely be taking the lead here." He winked at her before he had completely thought it through. Would she consider him fresh, some older man flirting with his client. His thoughts wandered back to the comments of the security guards. He would be more aware of his actions now. Though she was smiling, walking toward him and seemed almost peaceful to have some to concentrate on while they spoke.

Toad in the hole is French toast with a hole cut in the center.
An over easy to over medium egg is placed in the center.
The recipe requires one pan.

“You may ask any question you like before you begin, however, once you do begin, I will no longer provide assistance unless the situation is dire. To put you at ease, I’ve never experienced a dire situation.”

He would see how well she used the kitchen, her familiarity with a basic ingredient, her common sense, her ability to work through a new problem. He often wondered if this skill challenge would work with anyone other than a client of his.

She giggle a little at his comment and wink, looking at the floor, scolding herself. A successful man like himself has to be married, and is probably just seeing her as a young naiive girl. She shrugs the thought off before watching him write the recipe down.

After he finishes she looks it over and nods to herself, going through the motions in her head. "I don't think I have any questions," she says looking over to him for approval before she begins.

Katie walks over to the ingredients and starts with the bread, taking a slice and using a biscuit cutter she finds in a drawer to cut a whole from the center before sh butters it and lays it down. She takes the pan and sprays it with cooking spray, looking at him every so often and trying to read his face. She puts the pan on the burner and lets it heat up before sliding the toast onto the pan, waiting a bit before cracking the egg directly into the hole in the toast. She lets it cook for a while until it appears to be over easy, then slides it off the pan and onto a plate, biting her lip as she looks it over.

He had expected at least one question before she wizzed through the process and slid the toasted bread with a perfectly over medium egg inside.

He looked at her with a curious smile. He hadn't even considered that someone might have been trying to put one over on him. Granted, it was not french toast, it was the actual toad in the hole recipe. His mother has altered it to make it more hearty and less like an egg with toast.

Was he dealing with a ringer? He cut the toad in half, and the watched the yolk spill properly onto the plate.

An eyebrow lifted as he asked the question, "You have done this before, no?" It was a lousy French accent, but it suited the moment.

"No," she says softly, shaking her head as she watches him slice it and look it over, biting her lower lip nervously, still unsure of whether it was right or not. "I used
to watch the chefs my parents hire cook, and they used to make me this when I was little," she smiles fondly at the memory, some of her parents staff being her closest friends throughout her life.

"I hope I didn't disappoint," she adds, a strange hope to impress him even though she had obviously hired him to train her in a skill she lacked.

"Quite impressed." He said, studying the fond menu item from his youth. Quite impressed on so many levels he thought, and distracted in so many more.

"I see I should take you to the proficient level immediately, where green eggs and ham are on the menu." There was that wink again. Could he explain that he had something in his eye, other than her, that was causing it to happen more frequently than not?

"So tell me, Ms Katie, what other tricks do you have up your sleeve?"

I laugh softly and nod in thanks. "Here to please," she smiles and blushes slightly, the double meaning not lost on her as she tucks a piece of hair behind her ear.

"Well I'm glad to hear that, and to be totally honest I don't know what I know I guess. I didn't even know I could do that, I guess I'm just observant?" she questions, the wink again starting to make her think differently of the way she's interpreting you, wishing for an excuse to get to know him even better.

Here to please? That was more than he could had expected. Why was this feeling like a date to him? Why did she have to be so social and attractive?

Brandon knew there was a lack of conversation as they regarded each other. He could not afford to get carried away here. He looked to the center island, finally, breaking the forward contact he had involved her in. The wine bottle stood at attention there, it seemed oddly phallic to him. Was there nowhere he could look and not be reminded that he was having thoughts that were at odds with what he was truly here to do? He was here to teach this young woman to cook.

"Beyond that flamboyant dish you prepared so well, I had really not given any thought to continuing with more demonstration this evening." He had a thought, but it was something he had never done prior.

"Normally, once a schedule was created, I'd give you a shopping list and a few preparation tasks for our next meeting. Had you set aside some time this evening? For some reason, I have the desire to put your pantry and refrigerator to use tonight."