Holiday Help

By Priscilla Laster

This is a romance between two young people thrown together by an unlikely set of circumstances during Christmas time. if you're looking for a good read about romance, generosity, growth and selflessness, I'm confident you will enjoy this illustration.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Priscilla Laster
• Release date: Feb 20, 2016
• ISBN: 9781311951120

Priscilla Laster

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Book preview

Holiday Help

by: Priscilla Laster

Fiction, Consensual Sex, Job/Place-of-work, Male/Female, Oral Sex, Romance

Introduction:

This is a blossoming romance between two young people thrown together by an unlikely set of circumstances during Christmas time. If you're looking for a tale of romance and generosity or a story about growth and selflessness, I'm confident you'll enjoy this read.

Copyright © 2015 All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review or scholarly journal.

Chapter 1

Mr. Stevenson, do you have anything to say to the court before I pronounce sentence?

I guess not, Your Honor.

"Very well. The Court has some discretion in sentencing for cases like yours. I could remand you to the custody of the County Prison System for a period of up to twelve months. When I first saw your juvenile record, I was tempted to do just that. However, your last brush with the law occurred when you were fifteen years old. Since then, you have not been in trouble, or at least you have not been caught. I also am advised that you are working a full-time job while going to culinary school. Is it your intention to make cooking your lifetime work?

Yes, Your Honor. If I complete my courses with honors, which I am determined to do, the school's placement office has assured me that I will be able to find work as a chef. My dream is to one day have my own restaurant and becoming a chef is the first step toward that goal.

Very well. the judge said.

Both your employer and your school have presented character testimony before the Court on your behalf. In light of this, I am going to use my discretion in your sentencing. But mark my words to you today. If you get in any trouble again, your probation will be revoked and you will serve the full prison time allowed by law. Don't disappoint me, young man. I hereby sentence you to time served plus three hundred hours of community service. Because of your skills and interests, you are to perform your service as a cook at the North Boulevard Diner. If you do well, you will be an asset to the community. Young man, you may even enjoy your community service.

I thought to myself, 'How the hell am I supposed to enjoy cooking up swill for street people? That's an insult to my skills.' Luckily, I kept my mouth shut and my expression blank. The judge continued.

The Court is aware of both your work schedule and your course schedule. Since you work five nights a week and take courses five days a week, the Court concedes that it would be unreasonable to expect you to work more than one eight-hour shift a weekend at the kitchen. You will be expected to be at the kitchen every Saturday, beginning this weekend, from 9:30am to 6pm, with a 30-minute lunch break. That will allow you to do both prep and cooking work for lunch and dinner every Saturday.

I did the math in my head. Holy shit! I thought.

That's almost nine months. Nine months of feeding street people will kill me.

If you have the opportunity on holiday breaks from school or work, you may work extra shifts to satisfy your obligation more quickly, with the approval of the kitchen. I know they can use all the help they can get during holidays, especially at Christmas. Do you have any questions or comments, Mr. Stevenson?

No Your Honor. And thank you, Your Honor.

You have a future ahead of you, son. Make the most of it. I don't want to hear anything more about you, other than positive reports from your Probation Officer. This Court is in recess until 1 o'clock.

Great. Wonderful. I'm going to spend three hundred hours, or almost thirty-eight eight-hour days, cooking half spoiled food in some cockroach-infested hellhole of a kitchen and serving it to starving toothless winos, all because I had been stupid enough to think I was in love with Marry. Wait, that's not true. I really had been in love with Marry. The stupid part had been believing she was in love with me. I had been pretty crazy in middle school. After my Dad died when I was eleven, I stopped listening to my Mom. I'm old enough now to see what she had been trying to do, being so strict, all out of fear that I would wind up like Dad. But at that time, all I could see was that she was on my shit constantly. At first, I just resented it. I had just lost my Dad and she wouldn't let me alone to work through my grief. I know now that she was hurting too and scared out of her mind, but back then, I just saw her as a bitch. I started cutting school, hanging out with the wrong people, getting into fights and finally getting into trouble with the cops. Nothing big, just little petty stuff, but enough of it to have me sent to Juvenile Hall. When I got out at age sixteen, I had straightened up. I had worked in the mess hall while in juvie and I learned just enough about cooking to know that I wanted to learn a whole lot more. So, I made up the schoolwork I had missed, graduated on time, got a half-decent second shift job and enrolled in culinary school. It was all coming together. Then I met Marry a party right after I turned nineteen. She was beautiful, sexy and had an infectious laugh. She also had a cute little dimple in her left cheek when she smiled, which she did a lot (I get kind of weak in the knees about chicks with dimples -- hey, it's my thing!). We hit it off right away and in no time we were dating. I remember the first time Marry and I spent the night together. We had gone to a concert, using tickets she had won from a local radio station. We had a great time and, as the evening progressed, we held each other more and more closely. By the end of the concert, we were making out and when I took her home, she invited me in. Her roommates weren't home, so we resumed our make-out session