Readerotica vol.1

Chapter 2 — The Chocolate Dream

I walked by The Chocolate Dream every day for months on my way to work and resisted entering. Oh, I stopped and looked, like everyone did. In my case it was more at the girl behind the counter than the window display. But I am a man who has mistaken lust for love one too many times in life, and thought I had learned my lesson well.

In the window: tiny chocolates in the shape of skiers, chocolate-covered cherries decorated like nipples, a layered chocolate cake smothered with strawberries, a curvy cake resembling a stripper, and a rather large chocolate dildo decorated suggestively with dripping white icing. Behind the counter: long thick black curly hair, overripe breasts, a short skirt, and those over-the-knee stockings that can drive a man to school-girl fantasies. Also behind the counter, a bearded, older man who appeared to be either the owner of the bakery or the woman's father.

It was such a simple and safe routine-leave for work, read the paper on the train, walk down 15th Street and stop and stare at her thighs while pretending to lust for chocolate. Proceed safely on through the day with fantasies sweeter than sugar.

So you can imagine my surprise the day the chocolate dildo disappeared.

I thought perhaps I had only dreamed it all. The entire erotic display was gone. Proper little candy boxes lay open on the red doilies. A three-foot tall wedding cake towered over them.

What could I possibly do? A man has to know why things happen. I opened the door and went in.

The stockings came toward me. "Hi, I'm Allegra, can I help you?"

Allegra? How well it fit her. Her voice was as soft as wind chimes on a slow summer day. Her tiny black and white plaid skirt swayed in front of me like a breeze. A girl who can make you think those kinds of thoughts is not to be taken lightly. I looked closer, and I could see that she was not a young girl at all, but a regular adult, like I was supposed to be.

"May I help you?" She looked a bit wary at my silence, probably from having seen her share of perverts admiring the window display.

Yes, I thought. You can tell me exactly how many inches of thigh are bare between your stocking tops and your hem. Or you could just let me measure with my hands.

Instead I muttered dumbly, "Hello. I see your dildo has disappeared."

She laughed. "Yes." She looked me up and down, and I could feel her taking in my three-piece suit and my monogrammed briefcase.

"You're a lawyer?" she asked.

Man, I hate that it shows. The worst part is that it shows even when I'm in jeans. It's been killing me for fifteen years now. I once dreamed of being a great writer, saving the world with my journalistic exposes on the way to glory. I think I was afraid, and law school seemed a safer bet. I made up the excuse for myself that a legal education would help with my dreams. But it's difficult to save the world when you ride the train and kiss ass to rich people all day long.

"Yeah, I'm a lawyer." I wanted to take this Allegra in my arms and run off to a new life. Either that or just bend her over the bakery counter and pull down her panties and kiss her from her stocking tops up to her ass.

"I have problems," she said with a frown. It was really more of a perfect pout.

Problems were my life. Just once I wished a client could prance into my office and tell me they needed me even though they had no problems. But problems involving pretty girls and missing chocolate dildos at least seemed interesting.

I checked my watch and made the decision that would affect the rest of my life. "Tell me what happened. A burglary?"

"Come on in the back," she replied. I followed the swaying skirt through the rear door.

"I'm Bret, by the way. Bret Dublin." She shook my hand and I never wanted to let go. "Where's your boss today?"

She lifted her cute ass up onto a desk and laughed at me. "My boss? You've watched me every day through that window and you thought he was my boss?"

Stupid didn't quite describe my feeling. "He's not?"

"You gotta' watch those stereotypes, Mr. Dublin. I own The Chocolate Dream. Zach is an artist that does work for me. He was one of my teachers in art school."

She flipped on the radio to a beautiful rendition of Sarah Vaughan moaning about 'ain't misbehavin, savin' all my love for you. So I asked Allegra to dance. I don't know what I was doing dancing this young woman around the back room of a bakery when I should have been at my desk meeting old Mrs. Carey to discuss how to safeguard the millions from her estate, but there I was. And she was with me all the way. Fred and Ginger. Or maybe I just dreamed it.

"Tell me about what you do, Allegra." I know I was at least much closer to her, like up on her desk with my thigh pressing against her bare one while I surveyed her high-tech back office. A couple of computers in one corner and a constantly buzzing fax in the other implied a little more business going on than just wedding cakes.

"Ah, Bret, I make dreams come true. Of the chocolate variety. Most of my business is mail order — custom chocolates for any occasion."

Have I mentioned I love chocolate? Allegra was talking about chocolate dreams like they mattered, and I vaguely remembered having my own dreams once.

"Marry me, Allegra."

"What?"

"Marry me and give me back my dreams. I'll solve all your problems."

Some girls would have walked away. Allegra hugged me. And then she told me I was crazy.

"Come see the kitchen, Bret baby."

I knew I could fall deeply in lust, or even love, with a woman who would call me "baby" ten minutes after she'd met me. I put my arm around her waist and she didn't take it away. Visions of bare thighs coated in melted chocolate filled my mind as I followed her to the kitchen.

Candy molds were everywhere. Sports shapes, holiday symbols, and every erotic image possible. Dildos, cocks, nipples, pussies, couples intertwined, little handcuffs, and slinky gartered legs.

"We make everything here. I've never turned down an order. I just call Zach and he fires up a mold in his studio. People love the sexy chocolates the best.”

"So, what happened?"

"It's a long story. It started when I got a letter from that 'Moral Superiority' group. You know, the ones with their noses in everyone else's business? Come home with me tonight and I'll tell you the rest."

Waves of lust overtook me as I sat in Allegra's kitchen and watched her at the stove. I wrapped my arms around her waist and pressed up against her while she talked and cooked.

"So," she said, pressing back against me and letting me pour wine from my glass into her beautiful mouth. "The letter comes in one day. It says that city laws prohibit pornography businesses within 700 yards of houses, schools, or churches. We're downtown, right? And there are no churches within three blocks. But it turns out that almost empty building on the corner with a couple of little shops upstairs used to have a small private school on the ground floor, and is still licensed for it. Now, I don't think I traffic in pornography, I traffic in food and dreams. But it scared me enough to take down the display and start worrying about the back room chocolate-toy business. They just want to shut me down."

"Hmmm, " I answered with my lips heading down to her bare neck, "You do need my help."

She turned and kissed me. "I do."

"But," she added, "I asked my own business lawyer and he just said that technically they're right, and I should take away all visible signs of anything anyone could consider obscene. I've never had one single complaint about my shop from anyone before this. People love the display."

"Why do you think I can do anything for you, Allegra?" I knew exactly what I could do for her, and I wanted to do it right there on the kitchen floor.

"Truth?"

"Of course."

"Because every day when I watched you watch me through the window, I thought you looked like a man with imagination. I always wondered who you were. And what your hands would feel like on my bare skin."

Love. This couldn't be just lust. My hands traveled quickly to her ass and cupped it and lifted her up toward me. "Turn off the stove, Allegra."

She obeyed and turned back to me and I lifted her up and wrapped her legs around my waist. I kissed her deeply and spun her around, ending up by her big black leather sofa. I whispered what I wanted while I started to unbutton her blouse. "I want to bend you over the back of this sofa, baby, lift your skirt, and spend all night traveling from your toes right up to your heart."

She kissed me softly and said, "No, Bret baby. Not yet."

I knew what she wanted. I had listened to her story about how her grandfather opened his bakery in this building in 1925, and how it was failing when Allegra took it over from her mother. This location was her life. She lived above the shop in a refurbished loft and planned to stay there forever.

I stayed awake at night searching for a solution. I knew they would frown on pro bono work for dildos in my office.

Allegra made me dinner every night for a week, and we talked about what she could do to fend off the problem. She lit candles and played soft jazz and she put her hand on my thigh during dinner and said, "I know you can figure it out."

She was a tease, this Allegra, but an honest one. The night I came up with the absurd yet creative idea about how to hide the erotic chocolates as religious symbols she offered to show me what a woman could do with a chocolate dildo. She raised her skirt and leaned back against the pillows on the floor and spread her legs. I watched from the sofa above as she teased herself with a chocolate dildo that closely resembled my own hard cock. When she slid the chocolate into her pussy I felt like a teenager about to come in my pants.

"Dessert?" she offered afterward, handing me the chocolate for a bite. Chocolate never tasted quite like that before. I don't know why she trusted me so much to control myself, but she said she could read my character, and she was right. Plus, the waiting was powerfully intense.

The night we drew up the detailed blackmail plan she invited me to spend the night. The plan included a lengthy list of conservative women, and men, who had made purchases through The Chocolate Dream, complete with addresses and credit card numbers. I still have this list somewhere, with the title "Conservatives for Chocolate." In the end it smacked up against both of our ethical standards, but she still invited me to sleep with her. No sex, but wrapping my arms around Allegra's naked body and spooning her close and whispering each other asleep still rates as one of the all-time best erotic moments of my life.

I researched every possible angle. We laughed about the law. No porn near churches? "Right," she said, "they're some of my best customers." But I knew she was scared about losing the whole thing.

I met with several lawyers wise in the ways of pornography, and they said she was out of luck. The statute would never be repealed, because who wants to agree to thrust porn on innocent children or churchgoers? And there were no exceptions to the statute. All anyone had to do was subpoena her records and chart out just how much of her business came from dildos and nipples, and she would be closed down.

In the meantime I was fascinated watching her orders come in. A woman in Iowa placed an order for a private fundraising party-I looked at the fax as it came in:

4 dz dildos

3 dz mini-handcuffs

6 dz white chocolate cherry nipples, individual pkgs.

1 8" dark chocolate dildo, ribbed

Allegra was nonchalant about these orders; I was either on the floor with laughter or deep in erotic dreams at night picturing this secret world of chocolate kink that I had never known existed.

We considered moving the shop, the obvious answer. But to be legit, she would have to file a statement with the new community that she was in the business of selling pornography, and she refused. I couldn't blame her. She also refused to locate anywhere near the known porn strips. The truth was that the 15th Street location was her heritage, all she had left of her grandfather, and she was going to live out her dream right there one way or the other.

The night she offered to paint my body with warm chocolate was the night I knew what I was going to do. My ethics were going to have to take a short vacation while I solved Allegra's problem. There was no way I was ever going to let her go. Ever.

She took a soft brush and made a design on my torso with perfect warm chocolate. Then she licked it off slowly, and it was like a dream. I lay back and closed my eyes as she worked her designs down my body, one at a time, stroking and then licking. It took forever, like all good dreams do. When she reached the design on the tip of my cock and licked it all off, I fed her everything I had mixed in with the chocolate in her mouth. She was beautiful, and she was hungry for me, and I wanted to feed her for the rest of my life.

I met with old, rich Mrs. Carey in my office the next morning. I told her I had the perfect, the only, the most profitable location for her idea of opening a restaurant with several trendy boutiques up above. It was easy. I told her that her grandchildren would be taken care of for life, and that they would think she was the coolest grandma on earth. I have no idea if this was true, but it seemed like a good dream to have. She authorized the check and I offered it to the school-building owner the same day. He couldn't refuse; he even snickered to me that he couldn't stand kids anyway and his own dream was to open an X-rated video store down on Colfax. Licensing paperwork was completed and filed, and the details assigned to my paralegal to finish up. I arrived triumphant at Allegra's loft at six sharp.

"Sit down, Allegra. We're having chocolate for dinner."

I placed the papers in her lap and let her read with delight while I got ready and talked about my plan.

"Tonight's mine, baby. And so are all your tomorrows." How I loved that she could inspire me to say things like that.

"Yes," she said softly, agreeing to everything I said.

When she returned from downstairs with all the extra available chocolate toys I asked her for, I was ready. I showed her the large chocolate handcuffs tied with ribbons that Zach had made for me. We both knew she could just bite her way through them, but we both knew she wouldn't. I undressed her, laid her belly-down on the bed, fastened her wrists to the brass headboard and settled in to eat.

The taste of the inside of a woman's thighs coated with juices and chocolate is only surpassed by the joy of finally holding the ass you have dreamed of tight in your hands and discovering that lust and love can be exactly the same thing.

I placed the order with Zach this morning for the wedding chocolate forms, all quite sensual and erotic. Allegra doesn't have much time for the details of our upcoming celebration, since she's busy working on the new Chocolate Dream franchising I helped her put together. I, on the other hand, have what seems like all the time in the world as I sit in my small office space over the shop and spend my time writing and helping Allegra with the legal end of the business. My firm was most generous when I left, and every lawyer in the place envied my escape. I sent them all their very own box of chocolates as a parting gift — little chocolate desks with little people handcuffed to them. Some of them stop by here often, to visit the Dream.