Free thebistro by Sean Michael Page A

aren’t busy, I’ll be free in forty-five minutes and we can share coffee and a chocolate ganache.”
    “There was this small cafe in Paris...” He grinned at Stephen, sure the younger man would remember it. “Perhaps it was merely the company I was keeping at the time. And yes, coffee and ganache sound delightful -- I’m flattered you remember.”
    Stephen’s cheeks flamed. “You are a terrible flirt, Richard. Of course, I remember. Remembering people’s tastes is a knack. I’ll be back with your dessert once the course is complete. Let Jim know if you need anything.” Then he got a slow, flirtatious wink. “And there is something magical about Paris, isn’t there? The air maybe...”
    He grinned as he watched Stephen’s fine ass move away. The evening was just getting better and better.
    The forty-five minutes sped by, his waiter attentive, the atmosphere relaxed, the periodic glimpses of Stephen a delicious tease. His coffee arrived first, a gourmet blend that made his mouth water in anticipation for the sweet that was to go with it.
    Within a few moments, Stephen, apron and whites removed, now dressed simply in a black turtleneck and black slacks, served a plate of chocolate topped with sweet crème and dark, rich cherries. “Your dessert, sir.”
    He licked his lips, eyes on Stephen himself. “It looks delicious.”
    “It ought to. I made it myself.” It was slid in front of him, then Stephen took the seat beside, Jim appearing with an espresso and placing it before Stephen.
    “Will you share it with me?” he asked, sliding a small bit onto his fork and holding it out to Stephen. It felt good to flirt like this, with a man he’d never stopped caring for, really.
    “Perhaps a bite or two.” Stephen leaned forward, wrapping his lips around the fork and tugging gently. A soft hum sounded as Stephen settled back in his chair. “Delicious.”
    Richard smiled warmly. He almost would be satisfied watching Stephen eat the concoction and never having a bite himself. Almost. He had a weakness for sweets, which Stephen well knew, having kept him quite fattened during their time together.
    He took a forkful of his own, eyes closing as the flavors exploded across his tongue. He moaned softly, all flirtation and teasing forgotten in the taste of the ganache.
    When he opened his eyes, Stephen was sipping his espresso, grinning at him, eyes so familiar. “Good?”
    “No, not good, Stephen. You were a fantastic cook when we were together, now... Good would be an insult.”
    Stephen gave him a nod, cheeks pinking. “Thank you, Richard. I’m glad you like.”
    “I do -- very much.” He took another bite and then another, managing to stop long enough after three to make some conversation. “So how long have you owned the bistro?”
    “I bought the spot five years ago. I managed to save up enough money to fix her up, built a staff, selling pastries.” Stephen grinned. “It took a few years, but it was worth the wait.”
    He raised an eyebrow. “Most people have to wait a lot longer than five years to reach the reservations only stage. You’ve done well. I’m impressed.”
    “The mixture of commitment and luck. Well, that and being a certain actress’ favorite pastry chef.” Stephen’s eyes were bright, warm. “And you? You look spectacular, Richard.”
    He smiled, trying not to feel too inordinately pleased. “I take care of myself.” He chuckled. “Try not to indulge in too many of these...”
    “Oh, indulgence every now and again can’t possibly hurt anything.” One blond eyebrow arched. “In fact, it might be very good.”
    He arched an eyebrow of his own. Stephen had improved his flirting abilities. “It depends on what you indulge in, doesn’t it?”
    “Perhaps, but I have found that one should feed their appetite.” Espresso finished, Stephen dabbed at his lips with a napkin, drawing Richard’s eyes to that pointed chin. Stephen hadn’t had a beard when they’d been together.