Whispering in my ear, dark and rich, heart stopping like Haitian voodoo drums summoning me to forbidden places. Moist and sweet, as an Argentine Tango to my tongue; as smooth as Chinese silk to my finger tips. I am buried here. This is no familiar place where I can just put the top back on the cake plate. It’s no plain pound cake or tangy lemon mixture that draws me in and leaves me mildly satisfied. No, there is something devilish and divine here. It assails my nostrils and explodes in the center of my brain where there is only bliss. In the middle of the night I am awakened and pulled from my warm bed and my sleeping lover. With knife in hand, I cut deeply into the laughing hunk of joy covered in a maddeningly fragrant vanilla, almond and coconut frosting. I almost faint as the crumbs and perfumed frosting stick to my hands. I’m hers for the taking. Naked, open and vulnerable I can do nothing but stand here and devour this piece of holiness. Is this what they mean by black magic? I am light headed and dumb struck with frothy chocolate cream all over my face and then the unthinkable. My lover is there, with his mouth hanging open and his eyes fixated on my half eaten chunk of Chocolate Pound Cake. Slowing I lift a piece to his slightly trembling lips and it’s done. In the siren’s song of chocolate decadence, we have lost our souls and found our heaven.
Bon Appetit!
Chef ‘Nita
QUIT!!! QUIT~~~ You are killing me!!!! You took a Roberta Flack song and turned it into a chocolate cake receipe!!! OMG…You really need to become a song writer….Jill Scott now Robert Flack….Girl, you are talented!!!
Thank you Lynda. I am open to all suggestions and all paths.