Carla’s Bistro Pt. 01

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Everyone having sex is at least 18. This is fiction, I made it all up. Warning: this is a self-edited story. I do use Grammarly to help reduce my ability to murder the English language. Special thanks to goducks1 for his help.

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Chapter 1 — Lunch

I am in class listening to a boring art history lecture when I get an instant message from my older sister Carla, “Come have lunch with me at my place.” This is most unusual. I am a 20-year-old self-absorbed full-time student who each day must pick which of my girlfriends I want to bless with my time. I need to allocate lunch and the obligatory after lunch fucking, dinner and fucking, and then who spends the night with me. I know, tough life.

Both of my parents were models, I do it to in my spare time. However, I don’t see that as my long-term plan, business management is. I saw from my parents, modeling is a young person’s business. Sure, they still work, but they’re living off the money they made in their teens and early twenties. I want something I can do until I drop dead.

My older sister is a free spirit and a chef. Recently she opened “Carla’s Bistro”. I am surprised she wants to spend time with me, especially at her busiest time of day. She really is a good cook. She has always been a chef, I typically saw her on Thanksgiving and Christmas when many restaurants close. She is doing a Bistro focused on lunch, so she can date and have fun in the evenings. We live in a large town with a college. It sounded like a good idea to me. Her food is awesome.

If she wants to see me it must be important, I text back, “See you at 11:30.” I go back to taking notes on something I could less about. I am bored so my thoughts drift back to Christmas, Carla in a thin white blouse with a few buttons open to show off her awesome cleavage. My guess is she is 6′ tall and 38D-32-34. Light brown hair that is shoulder length and curls in on the ends. She has perfect posture making it seem like she is thrusting out those huge melons of hers. She has dark green eyes and the family’s million-dollar smile when she shows it. She is hot, although, she is my sister. High school is hard when the hottest looking woman is your sister.

After class, I put on my backpack. It is a nice late spring day so instead of driving, I will get some more exercise in. Her place is only a mile away, I jog over. Walking to my car, then driving in traffic, it would have taken longer. I walk in about 11:15 AM. The hostess seats me and says that Carla will be out in a few minutes. How did she know who I am? Cute girl, college age, name tag says Kim. This is my first time inside. I look around. It looks like the set of a Hallmark movie. Everything is tastefully done to make it look cozy, like a woman’s bedroom. A light green pastel paint on the walls and many craft items round out the place.

There are three pairs of women having lunch and talking. They seem to be enjoying the place, yet I feel out of place. It’s too girly for me. Girl’s bedroom is about right, I have seen enough of them to know. Just need the white walls and popcorn ceiling. Women love to go cowgirl on me, so I see lots of ceilings. I see Kim checking me out. She tries not to, but she can’t help it. She distracts herself with getting coffee, tea, and checks for the customers. As two customers leave a few more come in. Steady traffic but not enough. Of course, this is a Tuesday, not a busy day.

Acting casual, I notice that each of the women steals glances at me. They drop a fork, ask for their waitress, or just look at the décor and glance my direction. I find it amusing. Kim stops by with a serving tray holding four lunches and puts them on my table. With each item, she bends down to open her cleavage even more, smiles and places the plate on the customer’s table. She leaves.

I am used to women looking at me. Like my dad we have a ruggedly handsome look, big shoulders, dark short hair and bright clear skin. I have lots of muscle which makes me almost irresistible to girls, moms, and teachers. It gets old after a while though. They like me because I look cute. HEY, I have a brain and a personality too! Nobody cares, I just need to look cute.

Carla comes back, a plate in each hand and sets the plates on my table. She bends down to kiss me on the cheek and hugs me. Her first attempt at a hug ended as a breast hits me in the face, she giggles, adjusts and hugs me before sitting down across from me. She is my sister but that is still nice. The question I have, did she do that on purpose, because I think she did. Why? What does she gain? She can’t date me.

Carla smiles at me, “Sorry about the concussion. I am glad you came by.”

I am still in shock at her blatant battery, “I will survive although if I eat all this food I may burst.”

Now Carla is serious, “I need an honest opinion, mom and dad were no help. I know you love me because I am family, but I want you to think of me as that mean sister that tormented you all those times I caught you jacking casino siteleri off at home.”

Those are memories I really didn’t need. Those days are gone by.

Carla seems pained, “I want you to try all of my main menu items and tell me as a guy, a guy that was embarrassed by his sister, what do you really think of my food? No sugar coating, I NEED the truth. 100% honesty, eat before it gets cold. I will help you, so it doesn’t go to waste.”

I am hungry, I just ran a mile, I dig in. Carla ate some but soon finishes, she doesn’t eat much. I ate about a quarter of each. Then went back again, and again, and again so that I finished it all off. Now before you go thinking I am a pig, I am not. I am a big guy, 6′ 5″, 235 pounds of pure muscle that stays in shape, so I can model. The problem is the meals are small, dainty, like what a college girl might eat in front of another woman. Carla is staring at me in disbelief.

I smile at her, and then answer her obvious questions, “The problem isn’t the food. As you can see, it’s wonderful. I saw your menu, and I know those square things were tofu. To me, tofu is white dirt with water. Your version is amazing, I can’t believe THAT was tofu. What you really want to know is why is your business failing, right?”

Carla looks bashful, but I can tell I hit the mark. Nobody is in the place. She thinks it’s her food. It isn’t.

Carla is sad with a tear in her eye, “I thought it was my cooking, that I wasn’t good enough. My former boss told me I was stupid for leaving him and that I would fail. I wasn’t good enough to own my own restaurant.” That made me angry. “Maybe he was right. Maybe I am a failure and should just be a sous chef.”

With a bit of anger and determination, I looked her square in the eye, “You my dear sister, are not a failure. You are a wonderful, nice, and a beautiful woman. Your cooking is terrific, but your marketing, menu, and theme could use some work. I am no artist but one of my girlfriends, Bev, is and she is very talented.” That made Carla smile a bit. “How about I come up with some ideas and we can talk about it. Today is Wednesday, come by the house on Saturday about 2:00 or so, and I will show you some samples and suggestions. I will get some inspiration from a senior I am dating. She does homework with me and she is sharp. This could be something she can show on a resume, real consulting experience. That will help her get a job.”

Carla asks brazenly, “How many girlfriends do you have?”

I am honest, “None.” She looks at me skeptically. “I do things with eight different women, I regularly have sex with six women, but none of them are people I want to be with forever.” My turn to look sad. “All these women yet, I still feel lonely.” I give her my wicked smile. “It’s better than being lonely and not having sex though.”

Carla snorts, “Yes, I see your point there. It would be nice to get the hole plugged by the real thing every so often.” Her mind drifts off.

I don’t think she realizes she just told me she isn’t getting laid. That surprises me, she is a beautiful woman. If she walks into a bar, she could find someone to go home with her. I wonder if she has turned to women. That would make sense.

I bring her back to reality, “Saturday after work? I will make sure I finish my workout and shower before you get there.”

Carla nods, “Saturday at 2:00, after work. See you then.”

Carla has a room at the house. She also stays with a friend just as often. We both get up, she gives me another hug, squeezing those huge tits with stone nipples into me. That feels much better than it should. She walks back to the kitchen to cook. All other eyes are on me as I leave.

Chapter 2 — Saving Carla

The rest of the week, Stacy dominates my time with marketing ideas and then Bev with drawings for the new menu and decorating ideas. For them, it is a chance to display their talents with a real client and get me in bed more often. After Saturday, I will never see them again. They graduate and go back home while I have my Sophomore year in front of me. We make the best of the time we have left.

We have a routine. I show up at their house, their mothers answer the door, blush, and then send me up to “do homework.” No way they don’t know what we do. My friends scream loud and often.

We start with a quick kiss, I strip her, she strips me, I play with their boobs, I eat them to four orgasms, and then I fuck them quick and hard. We study for thirty minutes and then I fuck them quick and hard again. We study until I get hard again and then I really go all out and use my maximum speed and strength. I usually leave them a mess on their bed, unable to talk. I make sure they are breathing and have a heartbeat. I also cover them up just in case their fathers or brothers come home.

These women don’t love me. Both are seniors, I am just a freshman. They are leaving for careers while I have three more years of college. They are married to their GPA and landing a good slot oyna job. I am just a fuck toy to them. They trained me to give them exactly what they want, and I do that well. They all like me, I am cute and fun to take to a party.

Saturday, I wake up late, I am tired from staying up to finish the menus. I run to the gym and work out. I have enough time for my full workout, get home, shower, and then wait for Carla. She is never on time, I am fine. When I get home, I let mom and dad know I am expecting Carla so that makes them happy. They don’t see her much anymore. I use an air freshener, so Carla doesn’t smell my girlfriends, strip and then take my shower.

I hear Carla come in and say hi to mom and dad, I need to rush before she comes upstairs. World’s quickest washing of hair earns me soap in the eyes. I grab the big towel and am drying my eyes and hair as I walk into my room. I pull out clean underwear, shorts, and socks and throw them on the bed. I walk to the closet and grab a shirt, it too goes on the bed. I finish drying quickly and reach for my underwear when my eyes go wide open. Oh, fuck!

Sitting in my chair with menus in hand and a wide-open mouth that is trying to talk but can’t, is Carla. Our eyes meet. Her eyes look down, she smiles, then her eyes snap back to mine. Busted. So now I know how it feels when I stare at boobs and can’t keep my eyes on their eyes. Her mouth is trying to move as I start to blush which I am sure made it even more comical.

I am so embarrassed that I instantly want to crawl up into a ball and hide. Yet here I am naked, in my room, and my sister is staring at me. She can see everything. There is nowhere to hide.

I break the uncomfortable moment, “I guess you couldn’t wait to see my ideas huh?” She nods her head yes. “How about I get dressed now.” She nods yes again. “I bet you never expected this.” I am now putting on my boxers. She nods her head no. “I better quickly dress before mom comes up. That would make this extremely embarrassing moment far worse.” She nods in agreement while blushing herself at the thought.

I ask, “First impression, what do you think?”

She again seems to be at a loss for words.

I look at her sternly, “The menus and themes, not me!”

Now her blushing is matching me.

I suggest, “How about we take all of this downstairs and I pitch it to all of you. When I say this, I do mean the paperwork and not me.”

I just had to smile at her. I said that to make her uncomfortable. Why should I be the only one?

Carla finally spoke, “Um, sorry about this. I am excited to see you, oh fuck, um, I mean your ideas. Shit, seeing you is ok as well. It brought a smile to my face. Work has been kind of depressing as I lose money. Thank you for cheering me up.”

She got up, kissed me on the cheek, hesitated like she wanted to say something, then turned around and ran downstairs. I put my files online and then take everything downstairs. It feels nice helping Carla. With her being five years older, I never did this before. Oh yeah, I put on my cloths as well. No way I am parading around naked in front of mom and dad. One blushing moment a day is enough, thank you.

I go to the living room and close the shades. On the big screen TV, I pull up the files and plans we put together. Plan A is the easiest and cheapest to implement. We make it less homey, less like a girl’s bedroom. This would help it appeal to men. We add to the menu, so it includes things guys like and larger portions. Her current menu is one page, a nice front and then the back is the menu. We add more drink options, salads, and meatier meals like hamburgers, chicken sandwiches, bratwurst, etc.

Plan B is a more extreme option. Carla’s becomes “Him vs. Her”. Half the Bistro stays as is and half transforms into more of a sports bar with Jerseys from the local college. The same menu stays but has a pink background. We add a second blue page with more filling “man” meals like the brats, hamburgers, pizzas, appetizers, and ice cream shakes like a bar menu.

Plan C is my idea. We take out most of the decorations and make the place more universal. Around the outside we build roofs over the tables with curtains that can enclose the people seated at the table for privacy. A couple can have some semi-private time, or a small group can study. In the center are square tables in two rows allowing them to push together to accommodate a larger group which she can’t do now. The menu is more abstract in the artwork, it’s modern looking and lists “Lighter” and “More Filling” sections which include an “I can’t believe it’s a tofu” burger. Now its couples and small groups with the possibility of a large group yet couples or friends can study and have privacy.

Mom says happily, “I like Plan A, almost no budget and you can do it right away.”

Dad agreed, “I like that too, Plan C costs too much.”

Carla, “I think I like C the best. With a college town, we can get couples and friends while also allowing canlı casino siteleri a class to come in or a group of friends. However, dad is right, I don’t have the money to close and do the changes or to pay for the materials. I can start with A and then slowly transform into C as time and materials present themselves. It might even give us a chance to see how the semi-private rooms work out.

Mom had a suggestion, “Your father and I have been talking. John finishes school for the summer in a few days. He needs a job to help pay some of the costs for school. To help you out, how about John work for you and we pay him? He gets a job, you get a free employee, and there is a man around just in case. We worry about you.”

Mom gave Carla a hug, there is no way she can say no. However, the smile on her face makes me think she likes this idea. I was hoping to play video games all summer. At least my nights will still be open.

Carla is all smiles, “Awesome idea, a body with no costs. It’s like having my own slave. Too bad he is cute, and I need to be nice to him.”

I am thinking, “Nice save Carla, mom was going to bust you.” I can see me now, cleaning toilets, the floor, and the hot grill. On my break, I can take out the garbage and bus tables. Oh yes, this is going to be a blast.

I try to sound happy, “Oh geez, this should be fun.” I failed, they all looked at me like I am the jerk when I have just become my sister’s slave.

Chapter 3 — Training

Monday and Tuesday, I have two early classes and two late classes. At 10:00 after class I go to see Carla.

I walk in, “Hi Sis, I had some free time and thought I might learn how I can help so I am ready next week.”

She seemed quite touched by my willingness to help. She gives me a tight hug. With her breasts, hugs are quite nice. I feel them lightly touch me and then she presses harder, smashing her breasts into my chest. I must admit, that is a wonderful feeling. I almost sense she does that on purpose, it’s not just a standard hug like I get from most women. Only mom hugs me the same way.

Carla instructs Kim, “He has never been a server or hostess. Would you mind showing him the ropes? After lunch, I will teach him how to prepare salads and the other little stuff.”

Kim is a nice-looking woman. College age, tall, long light brown hair. Her face has freckles. She wears no makeup which doesn’t help. Her body is nice. A bit thicker and mature looking with good curves. She has an impressive rack, at least a full 36C bust. She has long legs with almost no ass at all. Literally, almost nothing there. A modern miracle. Her face is nice but nothing close to Carla. It really isn’t fair with Carla being so pretty. Otherwise she would look much better. Carla is just that stunning, you notice her immediately. Kim, I can date. She’s cute. That helps.

Kim seems thrilled to get the job of teaching me. She gave me a good look over from head to foot, shook her head and smiled. She did stop momentarily at my crotch. That is a bit embarrassing, being looked at that way. At least she likes what she sees, but then that has never been a problem I have had. There is something about her that strikes a chord in me, a perfect note. It’s hard to say what it is but I instantly like this woman.

Kim says softly but with a firm voice, “I don’t care how many girlfriends you have, in here you have none. They will tip better. Always touch the customer when you are seating them. Take their hand, guide them with a touch on the shoulder or arm, they will like you more. If they recoil, never touch them again.

“Basically, just be yourself but remember it’s about pleasing them. When serving put an R or L on the ticket for sitting on the right or left side of the table. On a four-sided table, number the seats in your mind. It looks more professional when you don’t have to ask who ordered what. If you see their drinks are empty, you waited too long. Half empty drinks need refilling. Customers like the courtesy. The details matter.”

She smirks at me, “You are probably used to just cute people. Ugly ones pay bills and tip as well. Often, they tip better if you are nice to them. With you, I want you near the front, so women can see you. As you can, clean the tables. I will handle the register. Everything goes on the receipt and tonight you will memorize the menu.”

I laugh, “Egg salad $7.95, turkey $7.50, soup and salad $8.25, bagel $1.95, with cream cheese $2.50. Shall I continue? I redid the menus several times, I know the menu.”

Kim genuinely seems impressed, “What kind of bread for the turkey and what are the side options?”

I reply, “The oven roasted turkey comes with thinly sliced Swiss cheese and a house brown mustard. It’s served on a toasted marble rye, lettuce, and tomato. Your choice of a dill pickle, fruit compote, or fresh chips (salted or plain). For dessert, I recommend the fresh raspberry cheesecake or the apple turnover with a side of cinnamon ice cream. If you like cookies, we have chocolate, chocolate chip, and fudge as a trio. Vanilla, chocolate, and strawberry milkshakes are also available. We have fresh brewed hazelnut and plain coffee, plain or strawberry tea, soda, or fresh lemon aid.”

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