Hey there, Pirates! Chapter Three, the final installment of The Maid and The Cook is live on Literotica. This one is twice as long as each of the first two at some 18K words (6 Lit pages), so pop your popcorn, grab a drink, and settle in.
I had a ton of fun writing this chapter. In part for the cheekiness of some of the love scenes, which really took me back to the flavor of the original scene between Brigit and Bone in Chapter Five of The Devil’s Luck (scene begins about a third of the way down the linked page) when Hannah visits them down in the galley and sees the pair playful and unabashedly enamored of each other. It was that scene that inspired this entire short story: there was so much humor and saucy promise between Brigit and John in that one interaction I knew I wanted to say more about just how these two became an item.
The other part I enjoyed was the research I got to do to make the story feel real and timely. I now know more about the role of the pudding in English cuisine, and the history of its preparation, than I’ll ever need to know. I also learned a good deal about the art/sport of knife throwing, and quite frankly, I totally want to try it out myself now! Everyone stand well back …
So here’s a bit of the opening to Chapter Three to get you going, and you can read the rest on Literotica:
The thread drew taut again as she raised the needle above the line of her eyes. Brigit tugged at it to make the stitch tight before jabbing through the heavy fabric to start another. Instead of having her help him with the meal today, Bone had set her to sewing pudding bags. She was on her third of the four he wanted.
She sat on a low stool, the same one the cook had used that first night when he pulled up to feast between her thighs, doing the work he was relieved to give over, under the claim that his fingers were always too large and clumsy for proper needlework. They hadn’t seemed clumsy when they —
Bone’s head swivelled to see what her noise-making was about. “Can I not trust ye to be alone with a pudding bag without hurting yerself, lass?” His tone teased, but his features did hold a hair of concern as he slipped into the pantry.
“No,” she called after him, pulling the fingertip out of her mouth, “It seems you can’t. Perhaps I’ve pricked my finger to keep myself awake.”
That was certainly true enough, with all the daydreaming she’d been doing. Brigit assessed the tiny wound and, as it appeared to be no longer bleeding, went back to sewing the sides of the bag together.
“Whose prick are ye fingering now?” he asked with a grin as he emerged from the storage room with an armful of small jars.
“Beast.” She shook her head at him and returned his smirk. Brigit was growing to enjoy the salty familiarity that had arisen between her and this cook.
Familiar, and yet …
Yes, she thought as she drew the line of stitches along, here was a man who made intimate jests with her, who’d seen more of her body than any one other man, and here she sat knowing hardly anything about him. Perhaps he could be persuaded to talk a bit more today.
OK! There’s your appetizer! Head on over to Literotica for the rest, my friends. See you with more news and updates on my next project soon.