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A Chili Relationship

Published by Dark Hollows Press

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A Chili Relationship

Chapter 1

Drew Bailey gazed into his closet and tried to decide what the appropriate

attire was for a chili cook-off judge. He needed to look official and imposing, yet
he felt a suit and tie might be overdoing it. Then, too, he knew he was likely to
get chili on the front of his shirt at some point in the tasting.

He had never been a contest judge before, although he had often been a

contestant. Drew was absolutely wild for cooking and had often thought of
starting a catering service. It would be a vast improvement over working in
Accounts Receivable at the Atwater Group. The only thing stopping him was the
investment needed to begin such an enterprise

—which would have to include

money to live on till the business took off as well as money for equipment,
advertising, licenses, and all the other niggling necessities of starting a business.

Drew had won the last chili cook-off he had entered, not three months

ago, which is what had led to his being asked to judge this one. He had planned
to enter as a contestant, had gotten his application and his entry fee into the
Mayfield Women’s Group, the sponsoring organization, and had begun debating
which of his several best chili recipes

—he didn’t have just one—he would use for

the contest. But then,

Edna Whitworth of the Women’s Group had called him

unexpectedly.

“Mr. Bailey?” she began, her formality leading him to suspect she was a

sales caller. But no, she was no sales caller. She was a local woman with a
mission.

The Mayfield Women’s Group’s Annual Chili Cook-Off was a Big Deal in

the area

—not just in Mayfield but in the surrounding communities as well. There

was a cash prize of $100 for the first place prize-winner and gift certificates worth
$25 each donated by local merchants for three runners-

up. The Women’s Group

was a well-respected do-gooder organization, and they never seemed to have
trouble finding three merchants willing to donate gift certificates for their runners-
up.

It seemed, though, that the local restaurateur who’d been slated to be the

only judge of the chili cook-off this year had had to go out of town unexpectedly
on a family emergency, and the cook-off was in desperate need of a last-minute
replacement judge. As Drew was a six-time winner of various chili cook-offs
including the last two years

’ Mayfield Women’s Group competitions, Edna had

suggested asking him.

Although he was disappointed not to be competing, Drew considered it an

honor to be asked to judge. It would also be great fun. Best of all, he would get to
taste all those chilis

—and for free. Admission to the event for spectators, which

included “all-u-can-eat” of the various chilis, was normally $12. He would receive,
Edna told him, a $25 honorarium for judging, as well as a $15 gift certificate to
the local independent book store. Drew liked to read, so that suited him just fine.

A Chili Relationship

And of course,

he’d get to eat all the chili he cared to consume. So he’d agreed

to judge the competition, and now here he was, getting ready to go do it.

He settled on a pair of grey pants and a rust-colored polo shirt that he

knew washed easily. He hoped, though, that the rust color would go a long way
toward hiding any chili stains. At ten-fifteen he was out the door and headed to
the Civic Center, where the event would be held. By eleven-thirty, he was
working his way down the tables on which the cauldrons of chili had been set up,
a glass of water in his hand to clear his palate between one chili and the next,
and a notepad and pen awkwardly clutched in the same hand. As he worked his
way down the row of cooks and their creations, he stopped to make notes.

He saw quite a few familiar faces, but a more or less equal number of

unknown ones. He paused to greet the contestants he knew but kept the
greetings cordial, not effusive, lest it seem he was going to show favoritism to
anyone because he knew them, even though the various chilis were identified by
number and didn’t bear their cooks’ names. There were about twice as many
male contestants as female, including two members of the Mayfield Fire
Department

—one male and one female.

Drew paused to re-taste a few of the chilis, moved quickly past some that

were clearly undeserving, and stopped in his tracks at a pot of chili that was
distinctly mesquite-flavored. It was an interesting concept, although the cook had
used too heavy a hand with the liquid smoke, eliminating his chili from
consideration as a winner. Still, Drew made a note for himself to experiment with
liquid smoke in his chili in the future. He had both hickory and mesquite flavored
liquid smoke in his cabinet, and he would attempt a batch of chili with one or the
other in the near future.

Just not so heavy-handedly as this cook had done!
At length he decided on the winner and the three runners-up, and he

called out the numbers of the winning chilis, first the three runners-up and finally
the grand prize winner. Two of the runners-up were familiar faces, but the third
one, along with the top winner, were unknown to Drew. When he got a look at the
grand prize winner, though, he decided he wouldn’t at all mind getting to know
him better!

Boone Wilkerson had a trim brown moustache and beard, shaggy hair in a

lighter shade of brown, a stocky, muscular build, and piercing brown eyes. His
mouth turned up in a ready smile that turned into a broad grin when Drew
announced him as the top prize-

winner. He actually hollered, “Whoopie!” Then he

self-consciously blushed.

He was only too glad to talk with Drew, who drew him out on the subject of

cooking and learned that Boone was an industrial cook. He worked in the kitchen
of the local hospital and loved to fool around in the kitchen at home on his days
off. “Sort of a businessman’s holiday, I suppose, but I’m a cooking fool,” Boone
said. “The only fun that comes close to cooking is discovering a new restaurant
or a n

ew food.”

Drew saw a

n opportunity. “There’s a new place that just opened out on

Route 7, The Galley, with an eclectic menu and reasonable prices. Have you
been there yet?”

A Chili Relationship

“I just moved to the area two months ago,” Boone answered. “I have a lot

of new-for-

me restaurants to try. What’s this Galley like?”

“I haven’t been there yet myself. I’m just repeating what I’ve heard. Want

to try it with me? We could go tomorrow night.”

“That would be real fine!” Boone said heartily, clapping Drew on the arm.
“So you’re new to the area. Where did you come from?”
“Cincinnati.”
“What brought you to Mayfield, of all places?”
“I inherited my great-uncle’s house. He had no kids, and I was his favorite

relative. I didn’t like Cincinnati anyhow, and when I was able to get this job, that
sealed the deal.

”

“So where do we meet up tomorrow for dinner, and what time?”
“I don’t know if the Galley has a liquor license. Are you a drinking man?

We could have drinks at my place and then go to the restaurant. Want to come
over around five-thirty? Give me a chance to get home from work first. My
commute is only a fifteen-

minute drive.”

“Sure. Where do you live?”
“It’s an easy one to remember: 123 Mohawk Street.”
“That will be easy to remember,” Boone said. “Mine’s 123 Elm Street.”
The two men laughed at the coincidence.
“Are you sure five-thirty is late enough for you?” Boone asked. “I work

seven to three, but if you work nine to five, do you want me to come at five forty-
five or even six o’clock?”

“I’m okay with five-thirty,” Drew answered.
Monday evening Drew’s doorbell rang at exactly five-thirty. Boone entered

and clapped both of Drew’s arms heartily. “Good to see you again, man. And
thanks again for awarding me first prize yesterday.”

“You earned it!” Drew exclaimed. “But tell me, do you share trade secrets?

What was in that chili? You had a secret ingredient or two.”

“Three, actually, but I’m not telling. I think you invited me to dinner just to

worm the secret out of me.”

Drew thought Boone was teasing

—but he couldn’t quite be sure. After all,

most chili cooks take their chili very seriously.

“What do you drink? I have scotch, bourbon, vodka, and beer.”
“Either bourbon or a beer.”
“You tell me. What do you want?”
“Do you have ginger ale? If you do I’ll take bourbon and ginger. Otherwise

I’ll take a beer.”

“One bourbon and ginger coming up. Plant your butt anywhere in the living

room. The liquor is in the kitchen. Be right back.

”

He came back carrying two drinks. “What’s yours?” asked Boone.
“Scotch and soda.”
“An honest drink,” Boone said approvingly with a decisive nod of his head.
They sat and got acquainted. Drew learned that Boone was thirty-seven

—

he was thirty-four himself

—and had been especially eager to leave Cincinnati

because of a bitter breakup with a boyfriend shortly before his great-uncle had

A Chili Relationship

died.

“He proved not to be trustworthy and honorable,” Boone said, “and I won’t

put up with that. Not from anyone.”

In the course of an hour’s conversation, Drew discerned that Boone was

intelligent, friendly, quick-witted, and open, all qualities he prized. He also
seemed quick to judge, but then, who was perfect? In talking to Drew about the
chili contest, Boone criticized one of the other contestants, Dean, for bragging
about his honorable mention award, but Drew happened to know the fellow in
question. He knew that Dean had had a miserable year: a divorce, a failed
business, a bankruptcy, and even a rift with his best buddy. Under such ego-
bruising conditions, Drew could hardly blame him for a bit of self-aggrandizement
when something finally went right in his life! He explained the circumstances to
Boone, who then tempered his opinion. “I guess I was quick to judge, but I didn’t
know,” he said.

They chatted through two drinks, then left for the restaurant. It was a

Mond

ay night, and they didn’t expect it to be too busy, but the Galley was three-

quarters full when they arrived. “Kaitlyn will be your server,” the hostess said as
she showed them to the last empty booth. “She’ll be along in a minute.” The
hostess left menus with them.

Indeed a perky young woman with a nametag identifying her was

alongside the table momentarily. “We have beer and wine. We’re expecting a
liquor license, but we don’t have it yet. Can I get you anything?”

“I’m good,” said Boone.
“Me too,” Drew said to him, and then to the waitress, “Thanks, but we’re

fine.”

“Water? Coffee?”
“Maybe an iced tea,” Drew requested. “Boone?”
“Just water, please.”
“Certainly,” said Kaitlyn. “Be right back.”
While she was gone the two fellows studied the menu.
“The Moroccan lamb sounds good,” said Boone. “What about you?”
“I’m intrigued by the shrimp Florentine. Shrimp and spinach is an

uncommon

combination, but I think it’s going to work fine for me. That comes

with a mushroom risotto. I’m drooling already.”

“How do you feel about each of us tasting each other’s dinner?”
“But of course!” Drew agreed heartily.
Kaitlyn returned with the iced tea and water, and they gave her their

orders. When Drew asked for the shrimp Florentine, she said, “Good choice!”
and winked at him.

“How is it prepared?” he asked.
“I think it involves parmesan cheese and chicken stock, white wine,

spinach of course, and cumin

—and garlic. I know there’s garlic. Lots of garlic.

You may not be kissable tonight.”

“A little garlic won’t stop me,” said Boone. Kaitlyn giggled. Drew smiled.

Then Boone was interested in him!

At the prospect of getting up close and personal with Boone, Drew almost

hurried through his dinner, but the shrimp Florentine was too good to rush

A Chili Relationship

through, and so was the Moroccan lamb, which he had more than just one bite
of. Everything was so good that, even though both men professed they couldn’t
eat another bite, they just had to try the desserts. They decided to order a slice of
pumpkin cake with rum sauce and a dish of coffee ice cream with blueberries, a
novel presentation. They each had half of each dessert and then Boone ordered
a cup of espresso and Drew ordered a cup of half-caf.

“Espresso?” Drew said. “You’ll never get to sleep tonight.”
“I expect you to wear me out,” he said with a sly grin.
Indeed, when they got back to Drew’s place, they were barely in the door

when Boone kissed Drew, his tongue leading the way.

“You work fast,” Drew said with a laugh.
“Is that a complaint?” Boone asked.
“Hell, no!” Drew felt for Boone’s man-tits through the fabric of his shirt and

pinched his nipples.

As Drew felt a shiver race through Boone, Boone said, “Mmmm. Do that

some more.” Drew was glad to oblige.

“Does this house have a bedroom?” Boone asked.
“Right this way,” said Drew, taking him by the elbow.
In the bedroom, Boone’s tongue explored every corner and crevice of

Drew’s mouth, while his hand squeezed the raging erection that strained against
Drew’s pants. When his tongue met Drew’s and parried with it, he dueled back.
“What’re you into?” Boone asked, breaking his liplock on Drew and unzipping
Drew’s fly with one hand and his own with the other.

“Uh—I’m versatile, but I’m more of a vanilla bottom.”
His face broke into a slow grin. Then Drew felt B

oone’s hand fish his stiff

dick out of his pants with difficulty. His callused palm closed around

Drew’s rod

and began to pump it. At the same time, he took

Drew’s hand and placed it on

his own now-freed monster

—and it was a monster, truly, looking way larger than

Drew’s own nearly seven inches.

Drew felt the sponginess of

Boone’s engorged erection, bigger and more

resilient than his own. A bubble of clear pre-cum oozed out of it, and Drew
reacted like he was hypnotized, dipping down to lick up the nearly tasteless fluid.

“Yeah, suck that baby,” Boone enthused, pushing Drew’s head down till

he opened his mouth and engulfed

Boone’s raging hard-on eagerly with his lips.

“Lemme feel some suction,” he urged. Drew complied, sucking as he inched his
head down, ready to stop if it was more meat than he could handle.

But it went down like honey, and Drew felt wonderfully fulfilled as

Boone’s

massive rod invaded more and more of his mouth, then his throat, till he reached
a point where he finally did have to back off that enormous dick.

“Not bad,” Boone praised Drew, stroking his hair and urging him back

onto his dick. Eagerly Drew gobbled up more and more of his hard-on till he
reached what he knew now was his limit. He stopped at that point.

Then Drew backed up till his tongue could swab the taut-skinned,

sensitive glans, and he titillated that tender skin with the raspiest part of his
tongue. Boone began thrusting his hips upward in little hunching motions that
drove his dick farther down

Drew’s throat.

A Chili Relationship

Drew quickly adjusted to accommodating more of

Boone’s cylinder in his

mouth. He noticed that, as he continued to suck Boone,

Boone’s hands were

now as busy as

Drew’s mouth. One was jacking Drew’s hard-on. The other, after

unsnapping his pants, was easing down into them and taking aim for

Drew’s butt.

Drew shifted his weight to give Boone easier access, and a minute later his
middle finger was knocking at

Drew’s backdoor.

Drew was dry, and so was

Boone’s finger, so it was rough going. But

eventually

—and slowly—he managed to work that finger into the clench of

Drew’s pucker. The intruder felt good, and the probing and plunging he began on
gaining entry felt even better.

But not as good as Drew felt from sucking

Boone’s dick. He was eagerly

sucking harder, laving

Boone’s demanding shaft with his tongue, and swallowing

the pre-cum droplets that were oozing into his mouth. B

oone’s little hunching

movements had evolved into something a bit more demanding. He was power-
driving his dick down deeper into Dr

ew’s throat.

Finally he grunted and said, “Let’s do this right, huh?” Pushing Drew

aside, he divested himself of his clothing, then impatiently tugged

Drew’s

loosened clothes off him. Placing one beefy hand on the back of

Drew’s neck, he

steered him over to the bed and stretched out on it, his upright dick waving
deliciously at Drew.

Drew knelt between

Boone’s legs, his mouth hovering over Boone’s lube-

leaking, dome-shaped dickhead, and he gulped the massive monster into his
mouth. Now that he was comfortably on his back, Boone was able to move
better. His butt pistoned his dick rapidly in and out. Drew made an earnest effort
to take in even more, and soon the domed head

of Boone’s dick was at the

entrance to

Drew’s gullet, though his throat absolutely refused to accommodate it

any farther.

“Get ready for a mouthful,” Boone warned, his voice strained and

tremulous.

He power-thrust upward one last time and drove so deep that Drew

started to gag. Boone

wasn’t done. Salty pre-cum splashed his tongue.

His dick was softening, but it was far from flaccid. It had retained a good

deal of rigidity, and he clearly had plans for it. Looking at Drew through smoky,
half-lidded eyes, he

said, “The only thing better than a hot mouth is an eager

butthole. Let me make both of us feel good.

Roll over.”

Although Boone had intruded his finger dry, he certainly had no intention

of subjecting Drew to similar treatment from his dick.

He didn’t want to in any way

cause him discomfort. Bending his face to

Drew’s butt-cheek, till Drew could feel

his breath on his wrinkled opening, he stretched out his tongue and made
contact.

Drew purred at the feeling. “Ahhhh,” he moaned.

Dragging his tongue up and down

Drew’s valley, Boone lubed his pucker

till Drew thought he would come from just that action alone. T

hat’s when Boone

upped the ante and thumped his fat cock into the valley between

Drew’s cheeks.

Drew could tell from the feel of it that it had regained virtually all its former size,
strength, and hardness. A shiver took possession of his body as he felt that fat,

A Chili Relationship

strong tool in the crease between his butt-cheeks. Was that really all going to fit
inside him?

He certainly meant to try to take it! Poised hovering above him, Boone

throatily

asked him, “Got latex?”

Drew said, “Top drawer, night table. Help yourself.” Boone opened the

drawer, extricated the foil packet, rubbered up, and nudged

Drew’s ass with his

dick, and

Drew’s backdoor quivered at the feel of his touch. He gave a cautious

thrust, and his generously oversized dickhead managed to pry Drew apart
enough to begin to enter.

Lightning flashed in

Drew’s balls, and his ass humped backward. Drew

didn’t will his ass to move; it seemed that his body had its own volition. Humping
farther back, he swallowed

Boone’s entire dickhead. His ass glowed with heat

despite the dose of spit for lube, but it was nothing unpleasant.

“Feed me,” Drew urged Boone.“Fill me. Stuff me.”
“Sure you’re ready?” He was panting, not with exertion but with arousal.

Lust clouded his voice.

“I can take it. Give me what you’ve got.” Brave words, but fortunately

Boone was not as foolhardy as Drew was, and he stuffed only half his erection
up

Drew’s back hole before grinding to a halt to see how well he was holding

up.

“Give me a minute,” Drew gasped, trying to get used to the pressure, to the

feeling of being so undeniably filled.

Then, as

the sensation of being overfilled began to fade, “Okay—go,”

Drew cued him. He wailed as

Boone’s dick skidded into him nearly full-length.

Then Boone set up a regular rhythm of rapid pumping. Gradually, as Drew
became acclimated to having that huge fucker in him, he began pumping
rhythmically too.

Their sweat-wet bodies ratcheted back and forth,

Boone’s body slapping

against

Drew’s back with every in-stroke. Boone drilled Drew deep, and Drew felt

his balls rumbling as they readied to jettison their cargo. His orgasm was
imminent.

“Gonna come,” Drew warned Boone as he humped wildly under him.

Boone reached under

Drew’s chest, grabbed a nipple, and tweaked it hard. That

was all the extra impetus Drew needed. With an undignified yelp, he lunged
forward, crashing onto the bed, as his balls exploded.

Boone followed him down, spearing deep into his ass, twisting and turning

as he stuffed

Drew’s back hole. Then Drew felt Boone’s dick swell within his

sphincter’s quivering grasp, and it exploded. At the same time, Boone bit his
neck.

“You like it just a little rough, don’t you?” Drew observed as he lay

sprawled on the sheet.

“Just a little,” Boone agreed. “I’m not into BDSM or anything, but I do tend

to get aggressive. Problem?

”

“Not at all,” said Drew. Boone smiled.
“So what is the ‘secret formula’ for your chili?” Drew asked as they lolled

on the bed in a post-orgasmic stupor.

A Chili Relationship

“Doesn’t the word ‘secret’ have any meaning for you?” Boone asked in a

tone that suggested the question was audacious.

Drew backed down hurriedly.
“I’ll tell you what, though,” Boone said in a placating voice. “I’ll whip up a

batch of it for you on Friday night. Since I get off work at three, I have plenty of
time to get a pot of chili going before you come over. Do you want to come
straight from work or do you want to stop home and change clothes first?”

“Let me come home and shower, and then I’ll be over.”
“Do you remember what I told you my address is?”
“Sure do—123 Elm.”
“I assume you know where that is?”
“Yup. I’ll be there between five-thirty and quarter to six. Mmm. Boone’s

prize-

winning chili. I can’t wait.”

“You’ll have to,” said Boone with a hearty laugh. “You like cole slaw? I

make a great blue cheese slaw that goes exceptionally well with the chili. And
scotch and soda beforehand, of course.”

“Sounds seriously yum. I may show up three days early and camp out on

your doorstep with my tongue hangi

ng out.”

“You are a serious chili fiend.”
“Especially for your chili. Your prize-winning chili,” Drew said.
“You should know. You’re the judge. Hey, wanna come over Saturday

night, too? I have a recipe involving chicken and capers and olives and pimientos
and sherry and raisins and

—”

“Whoa. I’m drooling on my clothing. But why don’t you let me cook

Saturday night?”

“You can cook Sunday night,” Boone offered.
“Dates three nights in a row?”
“Is that a complaint?”
“Shit, no! You and good food and good sex—what more can a man ask

for?”

“What are you gonna cook Sunday night?” Boone asked.
“I dunno. How about my lamb loaf?”
“Lamb loaf?”
“Ground lamb. Chopped dates and prunes and figs and pistachios and dill

and a little bit of rice and

—”

Boone interrupted him.

“Now I’m the one who’s drooling. What do you

moisten it with?”

“Sherry.”
“Count me in. What do you serve it with?”
“Usually either a salad or some kind of spinach. Do you have a

preference?

” Drew asked.

“Either one sounds good. Well, I’d better be getting on home, but I’ll see

you Friday, between five-thirty and quarter to six.

”

“Right. Great!”
They kissed good night, and given how aggressive Boone had been

sexually, Drew was surprised how tender the kiss was. This new relationship

A Chili Relationship

Chapter 2

The week at work dragged by for Drew. As he so often did, he

daydreamed of starting a catering service and getting the hell out of his present
line of work and out of

being in someone else’s employ. He was sure he’d like

self-employment much better. He also ran the flavor

of Boone’s chili through his

mind, trying to discern what the secret ingredients might be. Boone had said
there were three of them. It was obvious Boone wasn’t going to tell him what they
were, however.

At length he decided to send an email to his buddy Paul, asking for help.

Paul, a former neighbor, was now a firefighter in Dubuque, and firehouse chili is
world-

famed. He explained his dilemma. “Without tasting it, I know you’re at a

disadvantage, but what are some of the unusual ingredients you and your
bu

ddies use in your chili?” he asked.

On Thursday Paul wrote back with a list of eleven different ingredients that

might qualify. Drew eliminated six of them right off the bat. He was sure none of
those had figured into Boone’s chili. That left five, and that night, when Drew
went home, he stopped at the supermarket and picked up the necessities for
whipping up quite a few different batches of chili with different combinations of
ingredients. He was determined to suss out Boone’s secret and duplicate his
recipe.

When he went home with his bagsful of groceries, he changed clothes,

poured a drink, and went into the kitchen to prepare two batches of chili and see
if either one matched Boone’s. One was off by a wide margin, and while the other
came close, it certainly

wasn’t spot on. He decided to say nothing to Boone about

The Great Chili Experiment unless and until he had ferreted out the secret
formula.

That night he feasted on chili, stuffing himself silly and then freezing the

rest in single servings in plastic freezer bags for future use. So what if he was to
be served chili at dinner again tomorrow? He was a chili fiend of the highest
order, and he could happily eat chili five nights in a row.

Friday after work he hurried straight to Boone’s house with the idea that

maybe Boone would still be preparing his chili and Drew could see what went
into it, but when he rang the bell and Boone let him in, the house was redolent
with the smell of chili and Drew knew he was too late to uncover any secrets.

Boone greeted him with a deep, tongue-thrusting kiss and a pelvic grind

that elicited immediate stirrings in Drew’s crotch. Drew ground back against
Boone, thrusting his hardening dick against Boone’s stiffy. “Hold that thought.
We’ll come back to it later,” Boone growled. “For now let me fix you a drink.”

“Need help in the kitchen?” Drew offered.
“I don’t know about help, but I can certainly use some company.”

A Chili Relationship

Boone poured drinks for both of them, and Drew clinked glasses with

Boone. “To us—and to cooks the world over,” he toasted. Then he took a healthy
swig of his scotch and soda.

Boone took a drink of his bourbon and ginger, then clinked glasses with

Drew

again. “To us—and to a bright future,” he toasted.

A bright future together? Drew wondered. He certainly hoped so.
Boone took another swig of his drink, then put the glass down, opened the

fridge door, and withdrew a bag from the crisper drawer. “I cheat,” he said with a
guilty grin, showing Drew the bag of pre-packaged slaw mix, cabbage and
carrots already shredded for cole slaw. He cut open the bag, dumped roughly
half the contents into a large bowl, and used a spring-loaded clip to seal the bag
shut again. Then he put it back in the fridge and withdrew a jar of mayonnaise, a
lemon, and a wedge of blue cheese. From a cabinet he took out a grater, and in
a drawer he found a lemon juicer. He had an impressive spice rack, and he took
two jars from it.

Drew co

uldn’t see what they were and asked Boone.

“Thyme and cayenne,” he told him.
Into another bowl, Boone grated the blue cheese.
“How much do you need?” Drew asked.
Boone shrugged. “Dunno. I cook by feel, not so much by measurement.”

He continued grating a b

it more. “There. That looks right.” He spooned some

mayo out of the large jar. Again, he used no measuring utensils but mixed the
mayo together with the blue cheese. Now he took out a small bowl and, rolling
the lemon across the countertop to make it juice easier, a trick Drew was familiar
with too, he cut it in half and juiced it into the small bowl. After extracting the pits
he poured most of the juice into the mayo mixture. “Got a little more than I
needed,” he said, placing the bowl at the rear of the counter.

After adding just a hint of thyme and more than a hint of cayenne, he

stood there, lost in thought. “Let’s try it with a shake of Worcestershire sauce,” he
mused. “Very lightly, though.”

“I take it I’m a guinea pig? You never added Worcestershire before?”
“Kee-rect!” He added a very gentle splash from the bottle, mixed it all

together, and said, “You’re a distraction. I almost forgot the onion.” He took a
small onion from a bowl on a shelf, grated most of it into the bowl with the
shredded cabbage and carrots, and mixed it in well. Then he added the mayo
mixture to the cabbage mixture a bit at a time, mixing it thoroughly after each
addition, till he was satisfied. “It really wants to sit and set for a bit, but have a
taste. No

—don’t. I take it back. What was I thinking? The scotch you’re drinking

will totally throw the flavor off. Better wait till dinner. Speaking of scotch, are you
ready for a refill yet?”

“Nope. Thanks. Still working on this one. Is there anything else to do in the

kitchen?”

“No. I have potatoes baking in the toaster oven, and I’ve made some

onion dip to use on the potatoes. An old trick a neighbor taught me. Instead of
plain sour cream on the potatoes, use a little onion dip.

But when I’m making

onion dip for potatoes, I leave out the Worcestershire and the garlic powder that I

A Chili Relationship

put in when I’m making it to actually use as a dip—which isn’t very often. I’m not
big on serving hors d’oeuvres, but when I do, I try to make something less
pedestrian than onion dip.”

“Food snob!” Drew teased him.
“Yes, and proud of it!” Boone replied, sticking his chin out. “Let me freshen

our drinks now, so we can go into the living room and sit and talk without my
having to get up again five minutes later,” he said.

“Okay,” Drew said agreeably, handing over his glass. Boone topped off

both drinks and returned Drew’s glass to him.

“Let’s go inside,” Boone said.
They sat side by side and talked, with Boone occasionally dropping his

hand to Drew’s thigh and squeezing it. Each time he did that, Drew’s dick raised
its head and stirred. “I’ll try to be less aggressive in bed later,” Boone promised.

“Did you hear me complain?” Drew asked.
Boone chuckled. “No, but I don’t want you mistaking me for a grizzly bear

in rut.”

They finished their drinks, and Boone amble

d into the kitchen, saying, “Let

me taste the chili.” A minute later he called in, “It’s ready. Come and get it.”

Drew focused on the chili as he ate it, trying to discern its secrets. There

were both black beans and kidney beans, tomato pieces, small bits of hot Italian
sausage in addition to the ground beef, which he was sure was chuck rather than
round or sirloin, coarsely chopped garlic, onions…but what else?

He tried to mentally call up Paul’s list of secret ingredients. One, he

remembered, was dill. No, he was sure there was no dill in this chili. Another, he
remembered, was coffee, and he decided that was a distinct possibility. Still
another was liquid smoke, but he after carefully savoring a mouthful of the chili
and mentally testing it for a hint of smoky flavor, he decided there was no liquid
smoke in it.

He was concentrating so hard on discerning the recipe that when Boone

spoke to him he didn’t hear him. Gradually it registered that Boone had been
talking. “I’m sorry—what did you say? I was lost in thought.”

“Trying to figure out my recipe, weren’t you?” Boone said with a laugh.

“Sorry, but I won’t share it. What I said was, ‘How do you like the blue cheese
slaw?’”

“I haven’t tasted it yet,” Drew admitted, immediately scooping a generous

forkful

and lifting it to his mouth. “Mmmmm!” he said after chewing and

swallowing. “That is one fine variation on slaw.”

“Once in a while, just for a change of pace, I’ll slice up some pimiento-

stuffed olives

—not too many—that’s overkill—and add them in. Most of the time I

ike it better without the olives, though.”

“Hmmm. Olives. Yeah. I can see that,” said Drew, mentally tasting the

combination.

He scarfed up the chili and did justice to the slaw as well. Then, despite

the fact that Boone had served generous portions, he asked for seconds. “I’m
making a total hog of myself, but this is too good to resist.”

A Chili Relationship

Boone grinned. “Thank you kindly,” he said, doffing an imaginary hat. He

ladled out another generous portion of chili and a respectable serving of the blue
cheese slaw onto Drew’s plate.

“I’ll never eat all that!” Drew protested, then proceeded to make a liar of

himself, even scraping up the last remnants with his fork. His potato, good
though it was with the onion dip, was the loser in the competition of what he
could find room for. He ate a little more than half of it but had to forgo the rest for
lack of space in his stomach. The chili was too good to pass up, and the slaw
was damned wonderful too. The potato, however, despite the twist on the
ordinary with the use of onion dip subbing in for sour cream, was just not as
stellar as the other two dishes, good as it was.

The two men, totally stuffed

—Boone had made a glutton of himself as

well

—agreed to postpone sex till dinner settled a bit, but they set to work clearing

the table and loading the dishwasher.

“I hope there’s no dessert!” Drew exclaimed.
“I’ve got a cantaloupe just in case anyone wanted some, but I really wasn’t

planning on serving it. I assumed we’d both pig out on the chili and have no room
left for dessert,” Boone answered.

“You figured that one out correctly,” Drew agreed.
When the table was clean and the dishwasher loaded, the two men

returned to the living room and talked for a while. They both knew something
even better than Boone’s chili was next on the agenda, but they were too full to
even contemplate sex and had to let their dinners settle first.

Finally, though, Drew faced Boone and placed his own lips on

Boone’s,

while his hand landed on

Boone’s thigh. Drew’s lips took the measure of his new

lover

’s passion, while his hand relished the rock-solid strength of Boone’s well-

toned thigh.

Boone’s mouth spread in a wide welcome eagerly, so Drew’s tongue went

calling in the chili champion

’s mouth. As it eeled eagerly into his orifice, gliding

between his teeth,

Drew’s hand travelled confidently up Boone’s thigh to arrive at

last at his well-packed crotch.

The apex of his crotch was packed with the goodies Drew remembered

from their last encounter. B

oone’s ballsac bulged huge and heavy, filled with

stored-up sweet cream. Drew was determined to drain that cream from his dick
before much longer. Maybe he would even play the aggressor this time around.
Boone’s dick itself was already a full-fledged woody, spongy yet firm in its tight
confines.

Drew released it from those confines, drooling as it sprang free. Gobbling

it up, Drew swooped down on the entire sleek, strong shaft and took almost all of
it in his mouth before choking and having to release it. Then he began a slower,
more tantalizing attack.

Now that

Drew had revved up Boone’s motor, he showed Boone that he

could also be a terrible tease. First he nibbled at the tip

of Boone’s dick. He

shielded his teeth with his lips before nibbling, then lightly nipped at the dome of
Boone’s swollen, meaty organ. As his lips slipped tightly back and forth across
the bulging dome, it throbbed palpably in their grip.

A Chili Relationship

Next Drew licked up and down the shaft, tonguing a trail along the flattish

underside. As he did, his fingertips tickled

Boone’s hairy sac, enjoying the coarse

feel of his wiry pubes and the jelly-like consistency of his orbs.

By this point, Boone was making little urgent humping motions, thrusting

his hips upward and trying to drive his dick down

Drew’s throat. But Drew could

be quite the tease when he want to be, and this was one of those times when he
wanted to. While giving him plenty of stimulation, he

wasn’t giving him one iota of

satisfaction.

“Suck it, huh?” Boone finally pleaded. “Come on, wrap your lips around

the head, won’t cha?”

Drew would, he could, and he finally did. B

ut that wasn’t all he did. Just

before engulfing

Boone’s plum-like knob with his willing lips, he spit-slicked a

finger and positioned that finger at the entranceway to

Boone’s clenched anal

sphincter. Then, as

Drew’s lips closed around Boone’s dick, his finger squirmed

up into the humid region beyond.

Yes! Drew would be the aggressor this time! The aggressor and the top.
While his tongue lovingly laved

Boone’s taut-skinned plum, and his lips

gripped

Boone’s shaft, and while Drew exerted a strong suction on Boone’s dick,

his snaking finger wandered in search of

Boone’s receptive prostate. He knew he

had found it when

Boone’s body lurched into a mild spasm of pre-orgasmic

ecstasy.

Discreetly withdrawing his finger from

Boone’s prostate—he didn’t want

him coming too fast

—Drew let his lips glide lower on Boone’s stalk, taking in

more of his shaft within his

lips’ grip. Then Drew sucked his way back up again till

his lips encircled only the very tip of

Boone’s dick.

“You’re being a tease!” Boone bitched at Drew, but from the smile that

flickered across his face, Drew knew Boone was enjoying the teasing.

Drew still had a free hand, and now he put it to good use, tormenting

Boone’s nipples. Drew pulled off Boone’s shirt and gave those nipples what they
craved. He pinched one sharply between his left thumb and forefinger. A shiver
wracked

Boone’s body as Drew’s fingers gripped his nip and squeezed, then

twisted it.

Now Drew renewed his assault on

Boone’s prostate, simultaneously

increasing the speed and depth of suction. He zipped up and down

Boone’s

strong, pulsating throbber more quickly, and soon his lips were encircling the
lowest part of

Boone’s stalk, although he still couldn’t quite get all of that

awesome erection into his mouth and down his gullet. Still, Drew was enjoying
the way B

oone’s hips drove his dick in a wild drive down Drew’s clenching throat,

and Drew stroked that hard-on with every throat muscle at his command.

His wiggly finger stroked

Boone’s prostate as Drew’s throat muscles

conspired to milk

Boone’s rampaging dick. Boone was power-fucking Drew’s

throat now, not waiting for Drew to rise and descend on his stalk, but slamming it
in and out urgently. It seemed once again he was being aggressive, but certainly
Drew had no objections.

And then Drew felt

Boone’s cum-tube pulsate, his balls draw up into firing

position, and his dick swell even larger and harder than before. Ready for the

A Chili Relationship

onslaught, Drew dived down till his nose was buried in

Boone’s pubes, and

Boone’s erection was nearly fully engulfed in Drew’s mouth. If only Drew could
get that last inch or two into his mouth. If only….

With his mouth so full of delicious cock he was unable to urge Boone,

“Give it to me,” but he grunted encouragingly at Boone as he sucked with all his
might. Then Drew felt the first splat of sperm hit the back of his throat.

Boone fell back on the couch, wrung out and satisfied, limp with the after-

effects. But

Drew’s own hard-on was as randy as ever and needful of a good

draining. He thrust three more fingers up to join the one that had stroked

Boone’s

prostate, and those four fingers jammed in and out of

Boone’s anal channel to

loosen him.

What few clothes remained on the two men

—shirts and shoes and

socks

—they now divested themselves of, and Boone raised his legs right into the

air to welcome Drew into his nether hole. Drew treated him to some bunghole
bliss by positioning his now-rubbered rod (thank heaven for latex at the ready in
his pants pocket) at his loosened puckered entrance, then thrusting home.

Drew was ready and eager, and Boone was ready and willing. Drew

plowed his way into

Boone’s clenching depths with one balls-deep stroke that

had him buried to the hilt before Boone knew what was happening. He let out an
“Ahhhhh” of satisfaction that let Drew know that, despite his aggressive role on
their previous encounter, Boone’s asshole was accustomed to being filled, and
he was feeling no discomfort whatsoever.

Reassured that he

wasn’t paining Boone, Drew began to saw in and out of

his clench with triumphant energy. Deep into his gut, he skewered sharply in and
out, withdrawing each time till just his knob remained in

Boone’s guts, then

driving full-force, full-speed, full-length back into him.

Boone reached up with both hands, gripped

Drew’s nips, and twisted

sharply on both. Sensations flooded

Drew‘s body, and he knew he wouldn’t last

long before gushing his load. He knew it would be a heavy one, too.

Soon he felt his thick jizz rising from his balls. Just then, Boone lifted up

his head and kissed him. As his tongue speared deep into

Drew’s mouth, Drew

let go and flooded the rubber.

Quickly pulling out of Boo

ne’s ass before he wilted, Drew took note of

Boone’s renewed hard-on. Lying down beside him, Drew nuzzled his neck while
reaching for his shaft to give him a lazy stroking. Boone grasped

Drew’s semi-

soft dick and brought it back to full hardness. They jacked each other to a slow
and easy second come, then nearly fell asleep before Drew roused himself and
said, “I’d better get home.”

“Why don’t you bring your toothbrush next time?” Boone suggested.
“All right, I will.”

A Chili Relationship

Chapter 3

“Next time,” of course, was the next night, Saturday, when Boone had

promised to make the chicken dish of which he’d spoken. As it was not a work
night, Drew was not constrained in his arrival time by what time he got free. He
was free all day

—although in fact he was very busy. He was determined to

“break the code”—that is, suss out the secrets of Boone’s chili recipe.

Armed with the secret ingredients list sent by his buddy, Paul, the

firefighter, he was whipping up various combinations and permutations of the
suggested ingredients added to a fairly basic chili recipe. All four burners of his
stove were bubbling away with chili in various pots. Each batch was good, but no
batch was a duplicate of Boone’s chili. Drew was frustrated but far from ready to
give up, although his freezer was bulging with batches of chili frozen in single
servings. He would be eating chili for a long time to come!

At four o’clock he started packing it in—scraping the last chili out of the

last pot and putting the latest attempts into the freezer, then leaving the pots to
soak till he would return. That wouldn’t be till tomorrow. Mindful of Boone’s
invitation, he was indeed going to bring his toothbrush and planned to spend the
night.

He showered and changed clothes, stuck his toothbrush into a small

plastic bag and thrust it into his pocket, and headed out the door.

It was still rather early when he arrived at Boone’s house, but Boone

welcomed him with open arms

—literally. He gave him a big bear hug and an

enthusiastic kiss. Unlike the previous day, when Boone had cooked his chili early
in order to do it in secret before Drew came over, he was barely into the
preparation of the chicken dish.

“Want help?” Drew offered.
“Sure. Want a drink?” Boone responded.
“Sure. What can I do?”
“Let me get you a drink and then you can start by slicing olives if you don’t

mind doing some of the scut work.”

“Hey, it’s all part of cooking.”
“And you could plump those raisins over there in about a quarter cup of

sherry. The sherry’s on the shelf behind you, and there’s a bowl in the cabinet
over my head.

”

The olives were of both the green and black varieties, and though the

green ones were unstuffed, there was a jar of diced pimientos out on the counter
that Boone apparently intended to add into the dish at some point. “How do you
want ’em sliced, thick or thin?” Drew asked.

“Medium,” Boone answered. But please plump the raisins first. I’ll be ready

to add them to the pan soon.” He was sautéing some boneless, skinless chicken
breasts, and shortly he poured out the grease and reached for an open can of

A Chili Relationship

diced tomatoes, pouring not just the tomatoes but the juice into the pan and
lowering the heat. Opening a cabinet he took down a container of brown sugar
and added several pinches of it to the pan before returning the container to the
cabinet.

“Done!” Drew sang out after a bit, when he had sliced all the olives.
“How are the raisins coming?” Boone asked.
Poking at one, Drew answered, “I’d say they need a few more minutes. Do

you need my help with some potatoes or something?”

“I’m cooking wild rice in chicken stock in that pot at the back of the stove,”

said Boone, jerking his thumb at the pot in question. “Apart from turning it off
when it’s done, it doesn’t need any attention, and it’s not done yet and won’t be
for a while.”

“How about a vegetable? Do you need my help with that? Or are the

tomatoes in the chicken dish our vegetable?”

“No, the avocado on the windowsill is. If you want to peel it and pit it and

slice it sorta thin, go ahead. There’s a lime in the fridge, in the crisper drawer,
and a lime juicer in the second drawer down on the right. Squeeze some lime
juice on the avocado slices after you slice them

so they don’t turn brown.”

“What else goes on them?”
“Olive oil on the second shelf of that cabinet.” He pointed with his elbow.

“Use the extra-virgin. And a light sprinkle of cayenne. A touch of salt and some
garlic powder. That should do it. Cover the plate with plastic wrap when you’re
done. Here’s a plate and here’s the plastic wrap.” He opened a cabinet to retrieve
a plate and then got the plastic wrap out of a drawer.

When Drew had completed that task, stopping to sip his drink from time to

time, he asked Boone, “What do I do next?”

“Kick back and relax. I’ll take it from here. Keep me company if you want.

Otherwise go get comfortable in the living room. Put some music on if you want.
How’s your drink?”

“I could use a refill, thanks.”
“Why didn’t you speak up? Are you behaving like company?” Boone

rebuked him good-naturedly, reaching over to cuff him on the arm. Drew
re

taliated by flicking a finger at Boone’s nose, and Boone got even by turning on

the kitchen sink and splashing Drew with a handful of water.

“Uncle!” Drew said, laughing.
“Truce,” agreed Boone. “Besides, I have to get back to cooking.” He

added the raisins and the sherry they were plumping in to the pan with the
chicken and tomatoes and juice, then added half the jar of pimientos, some
capers, thyme and rosemary, and a grating of black pepper.

“Come stir this a

little, will you? I need to use the john,” he said. “Just give it a good stirring and let
it simmer. Mind it doesn’t boil.”

“What about the rice?”
“Leave it alone. Thanks.”
Drew did as requested, then stood there like a sentry for the five minutes

or so till Boone returned. When he came back, Boone sa

id, “We can go into the

A Chili Relationship

living room for a little while. Dinner will be ready soon, but we don’t have to stand
here.”

They sat side by side in the living room, with Boone’s arm resting

comfortably and familiarly on Drew’s shoulder. Occasionally his other hand
reached over to pat Drew on the thigh or the knee. They talked at greater length
than before about their respective jobs and their respective plans for the future.
As Drew daydreamed aloud about owning a catering service, Boone asked, “Can
I horn in on

your fantasy? I wouldn’t mind owning a catering service myself. Or

being partners with you. Can you see us working side by side in the kitchen

—like

we did a little while ago? I think that would be majorly cool. With our combined
trove of recipes, we could do something really unique and set this area on fire.

“There isn’t another catering service in the immediate area. I understand

that people have to call Ellen’s Ladle over in Pattersburg now.”

“That’s true,” Drew said, “and even though they cook well, their recipes

are pretty ordinary. We could really be distinctive. And we wouldn’t just cater
parties. We could get a small storefront and make prepared dinners for folks who
are too tired or rushed or cooking-challenged and would rather pay a reasonable
price for a well-

cooked dinner than go home and do the cooking themselves.”

The excitement in his voice was almost palpable.

Boone was getting pretty excited too. “How’s this for a plan? We make

one dish every night, with sides, and we freeze whatever we do

n’t sell fresh by

six-thirty closing time. Then we keep the frozen stuff in a freezer in the front of
the store, and anyone who doesn’t like tonight’s fresh offering can always pick up
something from the freezer.”

“Great idea if we can just save up the money to get it started,” Drew said,

looking suddenly glum as the financial reality hit him in the solar plexus.

But Boone’s next words brightened him: “I have some money saved up.”
“Enough to start a catering business with?”
“I believe so.”
“You’re not shitting me?”
“Honest to god.”
“Oh, man—we’re going into the catering business!” Drew whooped. The

pair high-fived.

“Let’s not get so excited about our future that we forget tonight’s dinner,”

Boone admonished. “It’s a fine thing to have two future caterers screw up their
own dinners. That rice is definitely ready and the chicken should be too.”

“Let’s chow down,” Drew said. “If dinner’s ready, I’m ready too.”
They carried the food to the dinner table, sat down, served themselves,

and dug in.

“Mmm,” Drew said. “This recipe definitely has to go on the catering

service’s menu.”

“I want to taste your lamb loaf tomorrow night.”
“And you will.”
“It sounds like another worthy addition to the menu.”
“We’re going to have fun planning the business, aren’t we?” Drew said,

feeling his eyes sparkle with excitement.

A Chili Relationship

“We’re going to have fun running the business, too,” Boone added.
“Imagine looking forward to going to work every day,” Drew said. “Imagine

getting up eager

to go to work.”

“Imagine working side by side every day, just you and me,” Boone added.
“Wonderful thought,” Drew agreed.
“To our partnership!” Boone said, hoisting a water glass, which was all he

had to toast with at the moment.

“In business and in life!” Drew said, clinking his water glass to Boone’s.
They fin

ished dinner. “I made two apple tartlets,” Boone offered. “Want

yours now?”

“Do I want it? Sure. Do I have room for it? No freakin’ way! Maybe we

should save them for an after-

sex snack.”

“I have to tell you I’m not feeling overly horny tonight. My head is in other

places. Would it upset you to skip it tonight?”

“Sex should never be an obligation. I can take my toothbrush and go

home.”

“I’d like it if you’d stay. You can stay over without the sex. Cuddling would

be nice.”

It pleased Drew to think that Boone wanted him to stay over even though

he didn’t want sex. It was further proof that Boone’s feelings for him were more
than just carnal, more than just lust. They had been together only a short time,
but something strong and true was definitely growing between them.

They got up from the table, cleared the dishes and loaded them into the

dishwasher, and Drew insisted on washing the Calphalon pots, which are not to
be washed in a dishwasher. “Do you mind if I take my shower while you do that?”
Boone asked. “I didn’t have time earlier. I was too busy cooking.”

“By all means,” Drew said. “Go right ahead. I’m fine in here.” He went to

work on the pots and was pleased that there was plenty of hot water to wash
them with even thou

gh Boone was using some for his shower. He didn’t start the

dishwasher going yet, however. No sense pushing his luck.

Much of the evening was spent planning the new catering business, which

was quickly morphing from a fantasy to a real-life plan. Boone insisted they be
equal partners. Drew insisted just as vociferously that Boone had to own the
larger share as he was putting up all the seed money. They argued back and
forth and still hadn’t settled it by bedtime, which came early as Boone said he
was tired and sleepy. Yet he continued planning aloud even after they got into
bed.

They lay each with one arm across the other, now disagreeing on a name

for the business. “Boy, I hope we don’t disagree as much when it comes to
running the business,” Drew said.

“It’s healthy to disagree,” Boone opined. “It means neither of us is a yes-

man.”

They still had not agreed on a name when Boone finally succumbed to the

sleepiness that had sent him to bed early in the first place, and Drew drifted off a
short time later, lul

led into slumber by Boone’s gentle and rhythmic snoring.

A Chili Relationship

They didn’t make love in the morning either, and once again it pleased

Drew to know that Boone wanted to be with him even though they weren’t
fucking. “What do you like for breakfast?” Boone asked.

“Whatever you’re having. Surprise me,” Drew said.
Boone served Drew grapefruit juice, bacon, French toast, sunnyside-up

eggs, and cinnamon coffee.

“You’ll have to roll me home,” Drew mock-

complained. “I’m as stuffed as a tick.”

“Well, you may as well go home, by whatever means,” Boone said. “I have

housecleaning, laundry, bills to pay, groceries to buy…I have to stop at the ATM,
I have a few other errands…. What time do you want me over at your house?”

“Whenever you’re ready. I’ll be home all day. Just mosey on over.”
“Around five give or take?”
“Fine.”
Drew’s plan was to continue working on divining the secret ingredients in

Boone’s chili. He did have other things to do as well, but his chief task was that
chili. After helping clear the table, he kissed Boone goodbye and drove home,
where he changed his sheets and put up a load of wash, put fresh sheets on the
bed, decided the rest of the housecleaning could wait, and bustled into the
kitchen.

On with the experiments! Referring to Paul’s list yet again, he whomped

up another basic batch of chili with three of Paul’s ingredients. On the third batch,
he thought he had a winner. The secret ingredients were coffee (an old trick), a
bit of cocoa powder, and honey. He tasted it again and again, adding a little more
of one ingredient or another till he thought the proportions were right. Then he
wrote down the recipe and left the chili simmering on a low flame.

By now it had gotten to be three-thirty, and he decided he had better pay

attention to the lamb loaf and

the spinach. With rice in the lamb loaf, he didn’t

feel he needed a starch side. He was still working in the kitchen when Boone
showed up unexpectedly early. “I got over here as quick as I could. I really enjoy
our time together,” Boone said.

Then he sni

ffed the air. “Doesn’t smell like lamb loaf,” he commented.

“Oh, there’s lamb loaf. Believe me! But I whipped up a batch of chili. Your

chili. Taste it and tell me if I haven’t got it spot on.”

He expected Boone to grin when he tasted the chili. He never expected

the reaction he actually got. A storm cloud took possession of Boone’s face, and
there was thunder in his voice when he boomed, “I thought I could trust you!
When did you copy the recipe? When I was in the bathroom or when I was in the
shower? What did you do

—go snooping around my kitchen till you found the

recipe and copy it?”

As he turned to face Drew, he noticed the recipe on the counter, where

Drew had written it out. “Aha!” he exclaimed, picking up the recipe and waving it
in Drew’s face. “If there’s one thing I won’t tolerate it’s someone who’s dishonest
and dishonorable.

I told you that’s why I broke up with my last boyfriend. I

thought you were different. I thought you were trustworthy. I thought you were
honorable. Boy, I’m sure glad I found out who the real you is before we went into

A Chili Relationship

business together! Shit! Damn! You were so hot to get that chili recipe you went
snooping around in my kitchen.”

“But I didn’t!” Drew protested. “Don’t be so quick to judge! I didn’t snoop in

your kitchen.”

“Liar! There’s the proof!” Boone picked up the recipe and brandished it in

Drew’s face. “I’m outta here!”

“But what about the lamb loaf?”
“You can take your lamb loaf and shove it where the sun don’t shine!

Goodbye and good riddance. Boy, you sure had me fooled. I told you that was
the one thing I wouldn’t put up with.”

“Boone, wait!” Drew called after him. But his outcry was punctuated by the

sound of a slamming door. Boone had stalked out of the house and out of Drew’s
life.

Drew wondered if he would hear from Boone when Boone simmered

down, but three days passed with no contact. He asked himself if it was even
wise to get involved with someone who jumped to conclusions so hastily and lost
his temper so readily. But then, when Drew thought it out a little more calmly, he
reasoned that first of all, everyone has flaws, faults, and foibles, he himself no
less than Boone, and everyone has hot button issues. He had unwittingly
triggered one of Boone’s hot buttons. If only Boone had stuck around long
enough to hear Drew’s explanation, things would have worked out differently.
Yes, he decided, in spite of Boone’s hasty anger, he still cared about him and
wanted to be partners with him in business and in life

—if only Boone would

believe him that he had not snooped through his recipes.

At length he came up with a plan of action. Searching his computer’s

email program, he looked for Paul’s letter. There it was, in the deleted mail folder
but not yet permanently deleted. Drew un-deleted it and restored it to his inbox.
Then he forwarded it to Boone with a note: “Look at the date on this. Before I was
alone in your kitchen.

Now do you believe me?” The letter, which mentioned

Drew’s request for a list of “secret ingredients” for chili, included the list of eleven
possible ingredients.

Below Paul’s letter, Drew added, “I went on a dogged search for the right

combination of ingredients and made MANY batches of chili in the course of my
experiments. You can see the containers in my freezer if you care to look. When
I got it right I wrote the recipe down. AT NO TIME did I snoop in your kitchen. No
matter what you believe I AM honorable. And you’re a fool.”

After some consideration he deleted “And you’re a fool,” changing it to,

“And you’re too quick to jump to conclusions.” Then he added, “If you really care
about me, don’t you think you owed it to me to hear my explanation before
storming out the door?”

In a final paragraph, he wrote, “I love chili and I still love you, but I don’t

love being mist

rusted or mistreated.”

The next day he got an email from Boone. The subject line was “New chili

recipe and apology.” That sounded promising. The letter read: “They say ‘there’s
no fool like an old fool,’ but I think a hot-headed fool is even worse. Can you
forgive me? I have been tinkering with a new chili recipe. The secret ingredient is

A Chili Relationship

vanilla extract. I am sharing it with you as a token of good faith and sign of my
renewed trust in you. Can you ever forgive me? When do you want to come over
and have some of this new

chili with me?” Below that he had pasted in the

recipe.

Drew started to type a response, thought better of it, and reached into his

pocket for his cell phone. Dialing Boone’s number, he waited for Boone to
answer and then, without preamble, a

nswered Boone’s “Hello” with, “How about

tomorrow? I’ve already had dinner tonight.”

“How about tonight anyhow and then tomorrow again for the chili?” Boone

quickly responded.

“Sounds like a plan.”
“How quickly can you get over here?”
“My jet-pack hasn’t been invented yet. I’ll have to drive,” Drew said with a

laugh, then added in a more serious voice, “I’m leaving now.”

“I’m waiting. Eagerly,” Boone said.
“I’m eager too,” Drew answered.
There was a smile on his face all through his drive to Boone’s house—and

it had nothing to do with the new chili recipe he’d gotten. Things were no longer
“chilly” between him and Boone. He looked forward to a very bright future—and a
hot one. And not just from the pepper in the chili!