Death By Chocolate

I was nervous and fidgeting sitting in the corner booth of the small, dimly lit room. The lighting and blanket of night made every corner darker, and seemed to hide the other patrons and the soft music drowned all conversations down to a murmur. It wasn’t the atmosphere that had me nervous and glancing around, I had been enjoying this atmosphere for about 20 minutes now. Alone.

The red Cabernet was good but, the realization that I had been stood up on my first date in two years left a soured taste in my mouth. I did that thing that every woman does when being stood up. I started critiquing myself and going back through the steps of my brief interaction of the online messages and video chat of our cyber date.

For me, everything seemed to go really well, I felt was engaging and authentic.I found him really good looking and interesting. It was the perfect guy to go on a date with after the dry spell of six months (okay, a year) of no dates, relationships or even a one night romp.

Maybe it was because the jogger pants? I mean, should I have changed the pants for the cyber date? I didn’t think it was a big deal if we were sitting.

Or maybe it was the background of my house? Not interesting? Too interesting maybe? I am a bit eclectic but my home was it’s typical bright and airy space.

I was suddenly brought out of my musings and self doubt by a shadow of a movement and a wonderful smell of chocolate. Seemingly appearing out of thin air and onto my table was a single slice of chocolate torte cake. Six decadent layers of bouncy cake was separated by chocolate mousse. The top was lacquered with a shiny ganache, and little intricate chocolate curls graced the top with a single maraschino cherry in the middle of the slice.

Looking up at the waiter still standing there, I cleared my throat and mumbled,

“ I’m sorry, I didn’t order this slice of cake.” to which the waiter replied,

“It was sent over here by one of our patrons at the bar. The gentleman in the grey suit.”

“Oh, okay, thank you” I said as I tried to peered around the server as gracefully as possible to see who he was referring to . As he walked away the gentleman he mentioned was staring at me intently, and I nodded a gestured of thanks to him to which he responded with a raised glass of his own drink. He then proceeded to walk across the room to me. Passing in and out of the shadow, it was difficult to discern any facial features ,but he was a very appreciative six foot two and built like a boxer. Broad at the shoulders and tapered at the waist.

Nervously, a myriad of thoughts fluttered through my mind.

“Should I allow him to sit?

Yes, it would be rude not to, but what if my “date” finally decides to show up? Who buys a stranger a slice of cake, most men would do a drink? Do I want him to sit?

When that last thought crossed my mind, the stranger made it to my table and looked down at me with deep, chocolate eyes that held a hint of amusement and curiosity.

Yes. Yes I do want him to sit.

With a polite smile I motioned for him to sit, and as he sat down, I could see that he was a bit taller than the the six foot two at the distance. His presence seemed to make the space so much smaller.

A warm, timbered voice said, “ I couldn’t help but notice you sitting here a while and just having wine so I thought a piece of cake would be…just right for you. I hope you don’t mind”.

He had what people described as a rugged smile. Very Charlie Hunnam in a way. As a sign of gratitude I gingerly sliced a piece of the chocolate decadence and went to take a bite. As I did, my eyes instantly closed rolled to the back of my head, and a small moan escaped. Popping my eyes open, I blushed all the way to my roots ,but it wasn’t because of getting lost in all that sweet, silky decadence. It was the way the stranger’s eyes had lit to a warm whiskey brown as he watched me. The intensity of that look instantly set things to a slow burn that was heating up places that had been a little neglected over the past year.

Letting out a small chuckle, “ I’m sorry, chocolate is completely the death of me.So much so that I would happily go to my grave without any self preservation.”

“I’m glad you like it and I will say watching you take that bite is a treat for me, may I?”

Alarmed, it took me a minute to realize that when he reached across the table and took the fork , he intended to feed it to me. Placing a bite with the cherry on the top he slowly reached over ,and I opened my mouth to take a bite. The tartness of the cherry juice exploded in my mouth and played against the richness of the chocolate beautifully. Starting to close my eyes, He suddenly stopped me

“No, look at me. I want to see your eyes as you take the bite.”

And that’s how it continued for the next few moments. Him ,slowly feeding me a bite ,and me watching him the entire time. I am in no way what someone would describe as enchanting or sensual in anyway. But being with him, in that restaurant, and eating that chocolate torte. I felt like that cake. Sensuous, mysterious and sinfully dark. Ruefully, I thought to myself, this was going to be the death of me.

As if coming out of a trance, I looked down at the bone china plate, to see that the entire slice was gone. Looking back up at the stranger ,I could see that he was looking at me to make the next move. I glanced around a moment not really knowing what to do. I was just fed cake by a sexy stranger. No first date small talk, to bios of our lives lived and aspiring to be. Just him. Staring at me with those molten ,whiskey eyes, and me just taking the bites of the torte. No need for words; we had an entire conversation and hadn’t uttered a single word to each other.

As if breaking the spell I suddenly blurted out, “ I was stood up and was suppose to meet someone here.”

Amused, he responded, “ Well, if he ever saw the way you could eat a piece of cake then he’s a moron.”

His eyes then took on a thoughtful and serious look, “ Unless it’s a boyfriend or husband?”

Shaking my head I could visibly see him relax again. “No nothing like that. Just one of those dates by the cyber date websites”

Blushing so hard that I was certain my face was red ,I could only silently thank whatever God, that the place was so dim that he probably couldn’t see it.

He then stated, “Lucky for me then, that I got to have this moment with you.”

Taking a sip of wine I tried to make a bit of small talk by mentioning the cake and how delicious it was ,and that it must have taken a lot of time to make it. The stranger got a bit quiet and then quietly said, “ It took six hours from beginning to end.”

Raising an eyebrow with a a questionable look, he continued. “ You see, I made the cake. I made it for a specific person that was suppose to have it and that person was you.”

I opened my mouth to say something and he stopped me and continued the explanation. He had told me the whole story, as to how he had been asked by his business partner to make something nice for the date that he had. How his partner said to make just anything because it was a blind date and he didn’t know what I’d like. Then, on to how the day of the date his business partner said change of plans, and that he was going to blow me off that night.

Feeling a bit frustrated, and a little bad for the woman that his partner wasn’t even going to call, he decided to make the dessert anyways. He was picturing that a mysterious but beautiful woman would be eating it. By the end of the six hours ,he had built up this idea so much in his head that he just had to go and wait to see who I was. So he waited at the bar for about an hour and watched. He saw me come in and wait and wait and knew that I was the one that his thoughtless partner stood up and knew in that moment that he had to meet me. He told me how when he sat down that something inside him felt like his world shifted a bit ,and for the first time in his life decided to take a chance if I would let him.

I sat there speechless as he told me the whole story. I was slightly mortified and completely taken aback at what I just heard. I took a deep drink of wine draining the last of my glass with my mind racing.

This isn’t happening to me. This DOESN’T happen to me. I should go. This is unbelievable, I don’t even know him or his name.

I looked across at him as was fixing to get up and leave ,but that intense look stopped me. I caught a glimpse of vulnerability mixed for a half second. Waiting with bated breath ,he stared at me. Nibbling my lip a second made those chocolate eyes flash whiskey again which made me blush again.

“My name is Amanda. I’ll call you Chocolate….for now, and if you wouldn’t mind, I’d like to see the kitchen you made this cake in.”

Rising out of seat with a big smile, he took my hand.

“I’d like that very much too.”

Slowly taking in a deep breath, I murmured under my breath, “Chocolate, you’re going to be the death of me.”

Out of the corner of my vision I saw his grin and whispered back, “ But you’ll die happy. I promise.”