Thornton Heath Heat
"Curry house owner Priya creates the spiciest dishes in South London—and she's got the curves to match. When food vlogger Derek challenges her kitchen, she shows him heat comes in many forms."
Derek's food vlog was famous for one thing—the spice challenge. He'd conquered restaurants across London, building tolerance that could handle anything.
Then he met Priya.
Her Thornton Heath curry house was legendary among chili heads. And Priya herself was legendary for other reasons—thick curves that her chef's whites couldn't hide, dark eyes that sparked with challenge, and a smile that promised pain.
"So you think you can handle my kitchen?" she asked, already plating something deadly.
"Try me."
"Careful what you wish for."
The first dish made him sweat. The second made him cry. By the third—a Scotch bonnet vindaloo that could strip paint—he was genuinely questioning his life choices.
But he finished everything. Priya looked impressed.
"Most men tap out by the second course."
"I'm not most men."
"Clearly." She leaned against the pass, her thick body silhouetted by kitchen light. "Come back after close. I'll show you what I really cook."
The after-hours kitchen was different—intimate, charged. Priya wore a silk robe over nothing, her curves visible through the thin fabric.
"The secret to good spice," she said, walking toward him, "is balance. Heat without flavour is just pain. But heat with purpose?" She traced a finger down his chest. "That's pleasure."
"Show me."
She dabbed something on her finger—chili oil, probably deadly—and pressed it to his lips. The burn was immediate, intense.
Then she kissed him, and the burn became something else entirely.
They made love in her kitchen, surrounded by spices that scented the air. She was as intense as her cooking—demanding, flavourful, never holding back.
"Harder! Like you mean it!"
He took her against the prep station, her thick thighs wrapped around his waist, her voice crying out instructions like she was directing service.
"There! Yes! More!"
She came with a sound like sizzling oil, hot and sharp and utterly satisfying. He followed, and they collapsed against the stainless steel, breathing hard.
"You've got stamina," she admitted, feeding him something sweet—a cardamom pudding that cooled the lingering burn.
"Had good motivation."
"The challenge?"
"The prize."
She laughed, that rich sound. "Come back tomorrow. I'll teach you to cook. Among other things."
"I'll burn everything."
"That's the point." She kissed him, tasting of spice and sugar. "Sometimes burning is exactly what you need."
His Thornton Heath heat had scorched him. And Derek was already craving another burn.