Cooking For Her

She had told me the night before via text that I would need to prepare Her some real food tonight. She would require protein and cheese. She did not know when She would be coming, but She would text me when She was on Her way.

I don’t really know much about cooking. She has been teaching me, but I still have a lot to learn. I felt like She was testing me again. I had to do my best to impress Her. We had just done Her Lemon Chicken, so it would need to be some other kind of meat. I was sure that She liked beef. The best kind of beef that I could think of was filet mignon. I found a recipe for a parmesan encrusted filet mignon.

I should mention that I barely had time to look at the recipe. Her message Had come late in the evening, and I had to be at work early the next day. It would be day of a large project and I would need to travel a bit to get there. I had to sleep.

The next day was rough. It was hot weather, hot work, and lots of last minute changes to the plan. It was irritating to say the least. I rushed toward home as quickly as I could, planning to stop at the supermarket on my way home. The bridge I would normally have taken was completely clogged with traffic, so much that it was clogging up the intersection leading up to it.

I decided to avoid the traffic entirely, and go a much longer way that would take me to a different supermarket. It seemed like forever with all the summer traffic. The parking lot was jam packed. I parked near the exit and walked. I had no idea how much time I had available, but I knew the extra travel time had not helped matters.

I hadn’t been able to stop home and get the recipe I had printed out so had to look at it on my phone. I looked for the ingredients where I thought they would be. I have no clue where anything is. All I could think about is how useless I am without Her direction. I can’t remember the last time I bought any herbs or spices. I even had to buy salt and pepper.

When I arrived at the meat section, I was unable to find any filet mignon. The closest thing I could find was a beef tenderloin. I had already felt like I was running out of time. Now I had to change the whole recipe. I found a recipe for parmesan encrusted beef tenderloin, and rushed around trying to find the rest of the ingredients I needed. People were everywhere. I had already had my fill of them for today. She was the only person that I wanted to see.

I purchased the items and got the fuck out of there. I hurried home, a different way that would not take me over that bridge. When I arrived, I unloaded everything and pulled up the recipe on my phone. Then, I noticed the cook time for the first time: two and a half hours. It would be impossible to complete before She arrived, no matter what time that might be. I was fucked. I had failed. She would be disappointed.

I had to at least cook Her something, even if it couldn’t possibly be as gourmet as She deserved. I fell back on the only beef and cheese combination I knew how to cook: cheeseburgers. I had to go to the store again. I was not looking forward to more cars, or more people. I was so tired and frustrated. I got the meat and cheese and got the fuck out of there.

At least now I had something that I could cook, even if it was not very impressive. Still, I couldn’t just serve Her a slab of ground beef. I needed to dress it up a bit, so I used some of the ingredients I had bought for the beef tenderloin.

I ground out some pepper and salt onto a dish, and sprinkled some parsley on top. Then I mixed in some minced garlic. I grabbed a clump of ground beef and washed it into the mixture, then squished it all around, trying to evenly mix in the seasoning with the meat. I balled up the meat, slapped it flat, and then rounded out the edges. I repeated this process for a second patty.

Finally I was prepared to cook something, but I had not heard anything from Her, and I still didn’t know when She was going to be arriving. I knew She was busy, so I was not going to bug Her. She had told me that She would be texting me. I tried to keep myself busy by doing chores. I tried to write, but I couldn’t get very far. I was exhausted, frustrated at my failure, and wondering when I might hear from Her. I actually laid down in bed for a little while, not knowing what else to do.

It wasn’t long before I returned to pacing around the kitchen, taking stock of what I had to offer Her, wondering how I could make it better. I was sure that She would not want any kind of bread, but for some reason I decided to go to the store to get some, just in case. Shortly after I arrived at the store I received a text from Her asking, “What are you doing?” I quickly responded with an explanation. She texted me back, “I will be there very very shortly.”

“OK Ma’am!!” I responded, and hurried to complete my purchase and race home.

Nine minutes later I receive a text from Her saying, “Where are you?” She had already arrived?!?

I was driving (shhhhhhhhh), so I quickly thumbed, “Coming back! 1 min!” I did my best to keep my eyes on the road. I arrived about one minute later. I hurried to open the door for Her. She asked me what I had bought at the store and I showed Her the rolls. She laughed at me and told me She wouldn’t eat any kind of bread, and that I should have known that fact. I told Her I did know it, but I still felt I had to go get some just in case I was wrong.

“You’re such a fucking idiot,” She said while shaking Her head at me. I laughed along with Her. I am such a fucking idiot. I quickly pour Her a glass of wine and hand it to Her, then I start up the music. She tells me to show Her what I have prepared, so I open the fridge and point to a plate with two seasoned burger patties on it. I say, “They’ve been sitting in there for a while. They would probably taste funny anyway.”

She says they look fine. I am relieved that I have something to cook for Her. I get the burgers out of the fridge and set them on the counter. I put the frying pan on the burner and set the heat on low. I went back to the fridge to grab some butter, and sliced off a few chunks into the pan, then back to the fridge to put the butter away, then back to the pan to melt it. I watch over Her shoulder as I stir the butter, then add the burgers to the pan. She looks over and asks, “Why do you have the heat so low?”

“I don’t know, I didn’t know how hot it should be, I just figured, once they’re burned, they’re burned.” She didn’t respond. I turned up the heat a bit.

She begins to correct my journal about my first yoga class. I am always thankful for Her corrections, but I really want to submit a piece of work that She with which She does not find any fault. Some day I will, if She continues to allow me to write for Her. I must show continuous improvement in order to keep Her interested.

We take another look at the burgers and She decides it is time to flip them. She remarks that She is happy with the browning on the bottom of the patties. I am happy that She is happy. We let the other side cook for a little bit and then She decides it is time to add the cheese. I open the fridge and inexplicably reach for the block of sharp cheddar, not the sliced cheddar that I had brought specifically for the burgers. “Not that cheese!” She says, a mocking grin on Her face.

I pull out the sliced cheese. “This?” I ask, like a moron.

“Yeah,” She says, snickering at me. I don’t know what the fuck is wrong with me. I open the cheese and attempt to apply it to the burgers, but She takes it from me and puts it on Herself. She knows what She is doing. She remarks that the cheese is going to take forever to melt because there is no cover for the pan. I remember that I have a cover and whip it out and cover the pan. She smiles. The cheese melted quickly as I set the table, per Her instruction.

As the cheese was melting, She instructed me to get plates. I placed them in front of Her and She began placing the tomatoes that She had approved of on the plates. When the cheese was completely melted, She had me plate the burgers and bring them to the table. I sat close to Her as She began to eat. She actually said I did a pretty good job with the burgers. She smiled a nice smile at me when She said it. I was happy to have pleased Her, but She actually helped quite a bit with the cooking of the burgers. They were quite tasty.

She told me a couple of other ingredients that I could use next time to make them even better. I can’t wait to make them for Her. As we ate, I cuddled up to Her and She finished correcting my yoga journal. I love when She corrects my writing. It shows me what She likes and doesn’t like, so I can continue to improve for Her. I love when She laughs at me when remembering something that happened. I love when She calls me a fucking idiot, even though I want to be perfect for Her.

We enjoy the rest of our burgers and wine, and I cuddle up to Her as much as possible. Eventually it is time for Her to go. She puts some of Her tingly lip gloss on me and grabs me and kisses me. I love when She takes control. She owns me. I am Hers. When She is done with me, I walk Her to Her car and bid Her good bye. I immediately text Her, thanking Her for spending Her time with me. I am so lucky to have met Her.

The greatest way for you to please my Owner is to leave comments on these journals. She expects that you will keep your comments related to the content, rather than verbally ejaculating all over the page. You will show Her the respect that She deserves.

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