Fred and Ginger

  ‘FRED AND GINGER’

  An M/M Romance short story

  BY

  ISOBEL STARLING

  © Copyright 2015 Isobel Starling

  Published by Isobel Starling at Smashwords

  Smashwords Edition License Notes

  This e-book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This e-book may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to your favourite e-book retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  Copyright © 2015 Isobel Starling

  All rights reserved worldwide.

  ISBN: 9781311522214

  All rights reserved. This book may not be reproduced, in whole or in part, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopy, recording or otherwise) without the prior written permission of the Author, except for the purposes of reviews. The reviewer may quote brief passages for the review to be printed in a newspaper, magazine, or journal.

  The characters and events described in this book are fictional. Any resemblance between characters and any person, living or dead, is purely co incidental.

  New York’s In Love, Copyright © 2015 Isobel Starling

  Cover art, design, by Isobel Starling

  DUE TO THE ADULT NATURE OF THE CONTENTS READER DISCRETION IS ADVISED.

  TABLE OF CONTENTS

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Recipe for Black Velvet Cupcakes

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  CHAPTER ONE

  Christopher Miller groaned on hearing his ring tone, and then, reluctantly rolled over. He glanced sleepily at the screen and saw the call was from his boss, Graham Cox, owner of Big Boy Cupcakes, London’s only gay bakery. It was 11am on December 24th, and the bakery had closed the day before. It would stay closed until the New Year.

  “He’s supposed to be on bloody holiday!” Chris said gruffly, frustration bubbling in his chest. He put the phone on speaker, and sat up, throwing his legs over the edge of his bed. He raked his fingers to flatten short, ink black bed hair.

  Twenty-eight-year-old Patisserie Chef Christopher Miller had been looking forward to hiding for the Christmas period. He didn’t have an ounce of ‘Fa la la la la’ left in his body, after dealing with the mountainous stress that being a master baker at Christmas, always brings. Christopher’s parents had decided to go on a Caribbean cruise for the holidays, and he happily turned down Christmas day with his sister and her brood. Chris wasn’t religious, or, for that matter, fond of Christmas. He wanted nothing more than a few days alone in bed watching movies, maybe a little porn, and eating food that was very, very bad for him.

  “Sorry, Chris, I know I promised you the time off while I was away, but I just got an order and it’s too good to miss. I really need you to go in.” his boss relayed apologetically.

  Christopher threw himself back into his goose down duvet and groaned again. He had loved the indulgence of his rare, short lived lie in. Especially, because it included such a delicious filthy dream, involving whipped cream, and Jason Beck-his favourite actor.

  “Ohh kay. Go on, tell me the details…” Chris huffed reluctantly, hoping it wasn’t an order for a multi-layered Christmas cake or last minute catering for a party.

  “You know that they are filming the new ‘Bonded’ movie at Pinewood Studio’s, yeah?” Christopher’s interest peeked. He grew up on those movies.

  “Well, Jason Beck is in town and he’s throwing a small impromptu Christmas party for his husband Andrei.”

  Christopher sat bolt upright “Jason Beck…actor Jason Beck?” He nearly choked getting the words out.

  “The very same!”

  “Shit, I love that guy!”

  Graham chuckled,”Yeah, I know you do, that’s why I think you are the best man for the job!” he said “Beck saw the photo-shoot we did for the Gay Times. He wants four dozen of the black velvet ‘North’s Pole’ cupcakes for the party this evening. He’s staying at rented house in St Johns Wood. I’ll email the details. There will probably be a few stars and photographers, so make sure your cocks are outstanding and upstanding!” Graham snickered.

  “They always are!” Chris retorted, chuckling too.

  The naughty Christmas themed range included all kinds of toppers for the cupcakes, including Santa’s sac, Christmas stuffing, Santa’s snowy balls, Jules’s Log, Good Elf, and Bad Elf…which added a little bondage theme to the topper. The ‘North’s Pole cupcake’ topper consisted of a fondant cock on top of whipped meringue frosting, and marzipan holly over the balls.

  Christopher’s mind was swimming with possibilities. Not only would he be baking his signature black velvet cupcakes, he would also have to sculpt forty eight marzipan penis’s in the next few hours, ice and decorate each cake, and deliver them to the party thrown by his favourite actor-- and the cause of many a wet dream through his early teens.

  Actor Jason Beck was Christopher’s first gay role model. The blond, slender actor was nothing short of brilliant on the screen. He played men, women, gay, straight, hero and villain and everything in between. Beck knew no boundaries and he didn’t care who knew about his fluid sexuality. He flaunted his many lovers, and taunted the tabloid press throughout his years in the movie industry. The man proved that it didn’t matter what his sexual preference was. Talent was at the heart of his craft, and he could kick ass with the best of them. Jason Beck was happy in his own skin, and he became the inspiration for thousand of men, including Christopher, to come out and live as their authentic selves.

  This cake order was really was Christopher’s Christmas dream come true, and he hoped he would get the chance to tell Jason what a positive influence he had been on his life.

  ****

  Christopher knew that because of the holiday season, London traffic would be a nightmare. But, he checked the traffic report on his phone, and figured out a workable route from his home in West Hampstead, to Big Boy Cupcakes, in the heart of London’s Soho. It was twelve thirty p.m by the time he made it to Soho, and the cupcakes needed to be delivered by seven p.m.

  Big Boy Cupcakes was situated on a row of shops on Newburgh Street, a narrow pedestrianized street, in the Newburgh Quarter, adjacent to the iconic Carnaby Street. To the left of the bakery there was a designer footwear shop. To the right a small digital photography boutique, and directly opposite B.B.C was a Sex shop. The businesses on the rest of the street were all trendy, quirky boutiques aiming to sell to hipsters and Fashionista’s, with more cash than taste.

  The frontage of Big Boy Cupcakes had been designed to look like a vintage analogue television set, with an oblong display window. The bespoke timber entrance door to the left of the window was set with glass inserts down the centre, made to look like buttons. The window displays for B.B.C always had that kitsch retro feel, which was occasionally porno influenced, with cake handcuffs, facemasks, riding crops and anything else one could think of that was suggestive. They were, after all, in the centre of what used to be London’s red light district, and being located opposite a sex shop had its perks in passing trade.

  Christopher unlocked the shop door, which immediately triggered the annoying high pitched whine from the alarm system. He quickly locked the door behind him, and then rushed around behind the counter to key in the alarm code. That done, Christopher paused, took a breath, and glanced around the shop for a moment.

  The inter
ior of the small bakery looked nothing like any bakery Christopher had seen, or worked in before he was employed by Graham. It was decorated to reflect the influence of old Soho area—porn theatres, clubs, sex shops—saucy, seedy, kitsch, and fun. The floor was black polished marble, and the walls painted in sticky looking black gloss. Large pink neon Tracy Emin style word art centrepieces decorated the walls, expressing the joy of sensual indulgence, saying ‘Mmmmm,’ ”Yummm’ and ‘Ooohhh”.

  When the glass fronted display counters were fully stocked with cupcakes, it was all marzipan cake toppers made to look like nipples, cocks, and blushed pink butt-holes, and there was always plenty of cream. The shop also sold bespoke party and wedding cakes, and miscellaneous saucy shaped cookies, but the cock cakes were by far the best seller. Chris noted that, with the Christmas range sold out, the shop looked and felt odd. Without any cakes to display, it was kind of soulless, like an empty theatre or nightclub. The shop seemed to be holding its breath, waiting for the drama and theatrics of a new day, and a new batch of freshly made cakes. Christopher Miller’s cakes were art, they were the theatrical performance, and when they decorated the shop, it came to life, to thrill the senses in all its camp, creamy, sugar-coated glory.

  The saucy camp theme for the shop also ran to the choice of staff and their uniform. Graham employed six young gay men to help in the kitchen, and serve at the counter on a part-time rota. He realised early on in the bakery business that customers seemed to buy more when they were served by friendly, attractive staff. So, he decided to put his male ‘front of house’ staff in black muscle vests, leather studded aprons, and give them specially designed leather paddles for lifting cakes into boxes and offering samples.

  Chris recalled that Graham had often joked that it was like the ‘United Nations of kink’ in the staff room, as Hugo was white British, Zane, black American, Will was from Turkish/German heritage, Franco was Italian, Johan was Swedish and Lei, Chinese. All the serving staff was stunningly attractive, and Graham had been proven correct, as they pulled in repeat custom just by smiling and flirting with men and women in the shop.

  Graham and Chris both trained as Patisserie chefs in Paris. And as master bakers, they spent most of their days in the kitchen. In the hierarchy of the kitchen, Graham, as owner, dealt with private orders, press and TV appearances, and Christopher dealt with the daily baking for the shop. Therefore, it was a rare treat for Chris to be fulfilling an order.

  Christopher headed into the kitchen. He turned the oven on to warm up as he passed, and went straight to the staff room to remove his outside world clothes and donned his chef’s whites.

  ****

  The batter for the black velvet cupcake was one that Christopher had made thousands of times. He knew the recipe and measurements, and could recite them with military accuracy. Chris washed his hands, double tied his apron, and then began rushing in and out of the large kitchen store room, gathering the ingredients and placing them on the long metal catering table that took up the centre of the room. Flour, sugar, dark cocoa powder, baking soda, baking powder, eggs, salt, chilled espresso coffee, buttermilk, and vegetable oil were all assembled.

  With all of the preparations complete, Christopher began adding the ingredients into a large industrial cake mixer, quadrupling the recipe so he had four batches of twelve cupcakes. The scent that flooded the kitchen as the cake was mixed was mellow, rich, and sinfully chocolaty. As the mixer did its job, Chris prepared the cake pans and cases. Within a few minutes, the thin, dark, silky cake batter was ready to be poured into cake cases, and then baked for twenty minutes.

  While the cupcakes were baking, Christopher got straight to work with making the marzipan toppers. Sculpting penises was his favourite part of the process and he really liked to take his time with them. He found it quite meditative and, honestly, it was the closest he got to handling penises other than his own these days.

  Christopher job meant he had to get up at five am, every day to begin baking, and that fact alone did nothing for his love-life. He had enjoyed the odd tumble with Marco; a now ex-member of staff, but that was over a couple of months ago, and neither had sought to rekindle that budding romance.

  Chris turned the radio on, and listened to a cheesy DJ introducing a rock song from a band he quite liked. Despite the stress, Chris was in a great mood and he hummed along with the tune on the radio as he headed back into the store room that held the ingredients. Christopher returned to stand at the long metal catering table with three giant slabs of coloured marzipan—pink, light tan and chocolate. He pulled up a tall stool and sat at the table, and began slicing and rolling the almond paste, shaping it into snakes on a cool marble slab, and then dividing the snakes into two centimetre segments. With startling speed and ambidextrous aplomb, Christopher began rolling balls, two at a time with the palms both hands, moving in time to the rhythm of the music blaring from the radio. He needed ninety-six testicles, and a nice equal amount of skin tones too, but he always rolled a few extra balls just in case he dropped one!

  When the testicles were rolled and lined up in pairs on a catering tray, Christopher detailed each pair with a modelling tool, giving them lines, and wrinkles on the surface. He then took a stippling brush and a little powdered food dye, and gave the pink testicles a little blush. Chris sang along to the music as he worked, lost in his enjoyment of the repetitive process and the thought of meeting Jason Beck.

  Eventually, Christopher got down to the most time consuming part of the whole process—modelling penises. Chris took great pride in his cocks. He wanted them to be realistic and diverse in their length and width and girth. He made some cut, and others were modelled with a foreskin. It amused Christopher to think of his ex-lovers as he sculpted, and he chuckled to himself as he made cocks that resembled ones he had tasted. He had to get his entertainment somewhere!

  When the black velvet cupcakes were out of the oven and cooled for an hour, Christopher boxed them and then each cupcake was topped with a swirl of freshly whipped vanilla meringue frosting and a marzipan penis, and a side of holly. The final flourish was to mix powdered icing sugar with a little water to form a white gloopy liquid. This was drizzled over the cakes to look like cum flowing from the cocks.

  ****

  CHAPTER TWO

  After two and a half hours at the bakery, Christopher sighed with relief and pride at the sight of two boxes filled with ‘North’s pole’ cupcakes and not one wilting cock. It was only three p.m, and Chris was amazed he had made the order so quickly and would be delivering hours early. He felt ridiculously excited at the prospect of meeting Jason Beck, and being able to tell the actor how he had changed his life. Christopher zoned out for a moment and daydreamed about his idol putting a sweet marzipan cock that was made with his own fair hands, into his mouth, groaning seductively as the sweet treat slipped down this throat. Mmmm.

  The cupcakes were contained in two twelve-inch white cake boxes. Chris tidied the kitchen, changed out of his chef’s whites and into his regular clothes. He strode around the bakery making sure the oven was off and the dishwasher was on, he set the alarm and headed for the exit, picking up the two large cake boxes from the top of the shop display counter and edging out of the door before the warning beeps ceased and set the alarm off.

  Just as the door closed behind Christopher, his phone rang. Distracted, Chris looked around for a ledge to rest the cake boxes on so he could answer the phone call. He bent down with a view to resting the boxes on the front step for a moment when he heard a yell of,

  “FRED. GET BACK HERE YOU STUPID MUTT!”

  By the time the words registered in Christopher’s brain it was already too late. A young chocolate Labrador dog bounded excitedly into him and the boxes of cupcakes flew farcically up into the air. Christopher’s shocked gaze followed the boxes with a look of slow motion horror, as he cried out,”Nooooo”. He staggered forwards in a vain attempt to catch…something, anything, but then a red-headed, bearded man bounded into his arms and tw
isted out of his grip, knocking Christopher on his arse,

  “Oh Sorry, sorry, I have to …sorry.” The man stuttered and then took off again after the dog. Christopher sat on the pavement in shocked and stunned silence. He didn’t know whether to scream or cry. Chris stared at the mush of forty eight cupcakes and marzipan cocks, with creamy paw prints and footprints leading off down the London Street. No words excited Chris’s mouth for several moments and then he let out a roar of “FUUUUCCCKKK”

  Christopher took no notice of the laughter from the last minute Christmas shoppers who were passing by, and pushed himself up from the ground. He was freezing, and his arse hurt. Chris moved gingerly to slump down and sit on the Big Boy Cupcakes shop front step. He pushed the heels of his hands to cover his eyes and cradled his head. All that work. All that waste. Chris shook his head in disbelief. What was he going to tell his boss? What was he going to tell Jason Beck? Chris felt the flood of raw emotion in his veins and he wanted to sit and cry in the street. Christopher had been given the opportunity of a lifetime—one shot at baking for his all time movie idol, and now his dream was lying in tatters at his feet.

  Chris heard a snuffling, licking sound. He looked up to see the chocolate Labrador dog in the midst of the carnage, chewing on a marzipan cock.

  “I hope that gives you the shits!” He spat maliciously at the animal.

  “OH GOD! I’m so sorry!’ the copper-haired man stopped and bent down, clutching his knees as he huffed and puffed to catch his breath. After a moment he side-eyed the errant dog as it licked creamy vanilla meringue frosting from the paving stones, and then chomped in to a second penis. The man lunged and attached the lead before the dog realised he had been caught. He pulled the chocolate Labrador away from the pile of cakes and cocks.