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 Rocky Mountain

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 her 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 as hot as Paris when it sizzles.

So you can imagine my surprise the day the 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 windchimes

on a slow summer day. Her tiny black and white plaid skirt swayed

in front of me like the breeze. A girl who can make you think those

kinds of things is not to be taken lightly. I looked closer and

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

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 it 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 blue 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 to 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 lift her skirt and pull down her panties and kiss her

from her stocking tops up to her ass.

"I have problems here," 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, Bret Dublin. I own The

Chocolate Dream. Zach is just an artist that does work for me. He

was one of my teachers in art school."

I knew nothing. 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 all 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 what you do here, 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 the mold in his studio. People love the

sexy chocolates the best. Know who the number one customer is for

them?"

"No, who?"

"Republican women. I'm not making that up. I keep track with a

survey of my regular customers. Republicans call them vibrators,

Democrats tend to call them dildos, but they're still my number one

best-seller. Both the tiny ones and the larger size."

I'd heard stranger things. Repression does wonders for sexuality.

"So now tell me, Allegra, what happened?"

"It's a long story. It started when I got a letter from that 'Focus

on 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."

*

Layers 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 from houses, schools, or churches. We're downtown, right?

And there's no churches within three blocks. But it turns out that

almost empty building down 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 travelled 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

travelling 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 "Moral Superiority". 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 the size of my own hard cock. When she

slid the chocolate into her pussy I felt like a teenager about to

come in my pants.

"Desert?" 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

right-wing 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

Pro-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 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 other 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 righteous churchgoers? And there were no exceptions to

the statute. All the "Moral Superiority" group 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:

2 DZ Rep. vibrators

4 DZ. Dem. 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 laid 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

to invest in 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, You're not cooking tonight. 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 for her. 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.

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