Sex and Chocolate: The Chocolatier

Sex and Chocolate: The Chocolatier

Elizabeth Jewell

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ISBN: 978-1-60521-294-4
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Editor: Maryam Salim
Cover Artist: Marteeka Karland

Sex and Chocolate: The Chocolatier

Elizabeth Jewell

Perry Scranton’s chocolate shop in Silver River, Colorado, sells more than just
orgasm-worthy truffles. His specialty is magical chocolate that leads whoever tastes it
to their true love.

In spite of his magical matchmaking, Perry’s single. He expects he will remain so,
since he’s gay, just turned forty, and lives in a tiny mountain town where his dating
pool is so limited it might as well be nonexistent.

Until Foster Carlisle walks into his shop, tall and lean and hot as hell. With a strange
feeling Foster might be “the one,” Perry hands him a very special piece of chocolate
and hopes for the best…

Chapter One

“That’ll be nine-fifty, Mrs. Carson.” Perry Scranton tied a neat ribbon about the

package of chocolates and handed them to Milly Carson. Expensive, he knew, for a half-
dozen chocolates, but they were worth every penny.

“Thank you so much, Mr. Scranton.” She looked at the package, then back up at

Perry. “You’re sure they’ll work?”

Perry smiled. “I’m never really sure, ma’am, but I haven’t had any complaints

yet.”

The statement seemed to please her, for she smiled, then leaned over the counter

to speak directly to Perry.

“You ought to make some of those special chocolates for yourself. You could use

a sweet young thing in your life.”

Perry nodded a little. “Well, I think I’m getting a bit too old for sweet young

things.”

“Still. Worth a shot, isn’t it?”
With a chuckle, she left the shop.

Perry watched her go, then turned his attention back to the cash register. He

straightened the bills, making sure they all faced the same direction.

She wasn’t the first person who’d pointed out the irony of the business he did.

He sold chocolates to lovers, chocolates that were meant to bring lovers together. No

one but Perry really understood how it worked. If he told anyone else, they wouldn’t
believe him, anyway.

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Sex and Chocolate: The Chocolatier

But it had never worked for him. He’d tried, once or twice, putting his special

magic in a truffle or two for his own table, when a likely prospect had happened by. But

the likely prospects had barely looked twice, moving on to other men.

He’d told himself at the time they just hadn’t been the right one, but now, with

his fortieth birthday two weeks in the past, he was beginning to think there would
never be a right one.

Especially not here. When Milly Carson had mentioned “sweet young things,”

Perry was pretty sure she’d meant female things. Perry wasn’t all that interested in

female things. He liked his partners with dicks, thank you very much.

At forty, in a small town like this, he was more than past his prime. He might as

well resign himself to a life of matchmaking for everybody else, while he entertained
himself in the evenings with crappy porn, a tube of KY, and his own hand.

The bag of chocolates he’d just sold Millie would bring her daughter to her true

love. They’d bring Perry nine dollars and fifty cents and another plus sign for his

reputation.

He snapped on fresh plastic gloves and turned to the ganache he was molding

for the next batch of truffles. Not magic ones this time -- just plain, ordinary, to-die-for
dark chocolate truffles.

Well. Maybe a little magic. Just enough to keep them all coming back.
He was carefully pouring melted chocolate over the exactly formed mounds of

ganache when the bells above the front door tinkled again. Perry looked up with a smile
to greet the arriving customer.

And froze.
The young man who walked in was easily the hottest thing he’d seen in all his

ten years of living in Silver River, Colorado. Tall and lean, with stylishly spiky dark hair
and eyes so bright blue they almost seemed to glow, he sauntered into the store, taking

in the shelves and gift baskets.

“Afternoon,” Perry said, his voice surprisingly calm in spite of the turmoil that

had begun in his body. “What can I do you for?”

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Sex and Chocolate: The Chocolatier

A poor turn of phrase, he thought as the words came out of his mouth. The

young man looked up and grinned at him. “Just checking you out,” he said.

Perry blinked. Another interesting turn of phrase. He wondered how the young

man had meant it.

“You’re Perry Scranton?” he asked. “The owner?”
“Yeah.” He held out a hand over the counter and the other man took it.

“Foster,” he said. “Foster Carlisle.”
“Good to meet you.” He reluctantly released his grip on Foster’s hand. Their

palms had fit together neatly, and the handshake had been just right -- not too tight, not
too limp, and not a bit sweaty. It made Perry’s thoughts drift to places he shouldn’t be

considering. Not right now.

“They say this is the best chocolate in the county,” Foster was saying. Perry had

almost missed it.

“They say the truth.” Perry smiled. “Maybe the best chocolate in the state.”

“If you do say so yourself.”
“I do.” He reached behind the counter and withdrew one of the fresh truffles.

“Like to try one?”

“Hmmmm.” Foster eyed it with a coy tilt to his head. “Maybe I just will.”

Delicately, he lifted the truffle from Perry’s palm. The tips of his fingers brushed

Perry’s skin. Again, Perry felt that vague thrill.

He took a closer look at Foster. He was easily ten years younger than Perry,

which under most circumstances would have stopped Perry from taking a serious look.

He knew his limits, and men under thirty-five or so were off-limits.

But there was something…

“Oh, God,” said Foster, who had popped the truffle into his mouth. Perry

preferred to see people down the truffles more delicately, to allow for a chance to savor

the flavors he slaved over so diligently, but since Foster was a first-timer, he’d make
allowances. Especially since, at this moment, Foster was making one of the most

enticing orgasm faces Perry had ever seen.

Elizabeth Jewell

Sex and Chocolate: The Chocolatier

Perry smiled. “I told you.”
“Oh, God.” It seemed to be the only thing Foster could manage to say. “God, oh,

God.” Then he shut up and just closed his eyes, mouth working around the chocolate.

Perry’s smile faded as he made another realization. His cock had risen, steel-hard

against the back of his zipper. Not that it was an unusual reaction, especially when
faced with a good-looking young man making a sequence of orgasm faces, but it was…

different somehow.

Perry frowned. He’d never felt quite like this before, but now that he was

focusing his attention on the sensation, he thought he recognized it. It was the same
feeling he got when someone came into his shop who seriously needed Perry’s special

brand of magic. Combined with the desire spiraling through his own groin, it made
Perry wonder.

No, it made Perry hope.
Foster opened his eyes and delicately licked the last of the slightly melted

chocolate from his fingers. “That was fucking insane,” he said, then his eyes widened
slightly in embarrassment. “Pardon my language.”

“It’s quite all right.” Perry’s words came too fast, slurring into each other. “Hold

on just a minute, could you?”

“Anything for you,” Foster said, grinning, and Perry almost bit off his own

tongue in his concerted effort not to fling himself over the counter and fuck Foster silly

right there on the glass. The Health Department wouldn’t take well to it, he was sure.
He practically dove through the door behind the counter that led to his office.

There was a box in the back, a special order he’d prepared for a bachelorette

party going on tonight. Mary Statler, marrying Joe Vaughn, whom she’d met after

purchasing an eight ounce find-your-true-love special right here at Perry’s Chocolates.
They’d been made to Mary’s specifications, and Perry had primed them, ready to attune

to each attendee at the party as soon as they took the first lick. It was a minor sort of
spell, not guaranteed to work, but it added a titillation factor to the party that many

soon-to-be-married ladies enjoyed.

Elizabeth Jewell

Sex and Chocolate: The Chocolatier

As usual, he’d made a few extra, just in case. So it wouldn’t compromise Mary’s

order at all if he slipped one out.

He looked at the carefully made chocolate lollipop for a moment, realizing all too

well that he was about to chicken out. He’d just met the man, after all. Handing him this

particular piece of candy seemed awfully… forward.

It was a penis. It was about four inches long, affixed to a stick, and constructed

entirely of milk chocolate. Perry was particularly proud of the detail in the molding,
from the veining to the faint hint of a fold that might indicate a retracted foreskin. It

was, truly, the most realistic, lovingly created chocolate penis in the history of chocolate
penises.

What if Foster wasn’t even gay? He might be horribly offended if Perry offered

him a chocolate penis on a stick. Or if he was gay and not interested… again with the

being offended. In many ways, it seemed like a no-win scenario.

Except Perry’s gut was telling him something entirely different. His gut, his

magic sense -- everything told him he had to do this.

Taking a deep breath, he went back into the front customer area, feeling like he

was diving deep into shark-infested waters.

It didn’t occur to him until after he’d sashayed back through the door, chocolate

penis held blatantly aloft, that other customers might have come in after Foster’s
entrance. Little old ladies, moms with kids -- the freaking mayor -- anybody could be in

there just waiting to see Perry waltz into the shop from the back room holding an
anatomically correct dick on a stick. The cellophane wrapped around it, tied with a

festive blue ribbon, didn’t do anything to disguise it, either.

But just as the thought rose to choke him, he realized Foster was still alone in the

shop, peering through the glass at the confections arrayed beneath it. He looked up as
Perry entered. Perry held his breath, waiting for Foster’s reaction.

Foster’s face split into a bright, blinding grin. Then he laughed.
“You went in the back to get me a chocolate dick?” he said. His voice had gone

warm and molten.

Elizabeth Jewell

Sex and Chocolate: The Chocolatier

“Um…” Perry hesitated. “Yeah, I guess I did.”
“This town is awesome,” said Foster, and plucked the penis from Perry’s hand.

“Seriously. Awesome.”

Perry let out a careful breath of relief. “It’s just --” He broke off, at a loss how to

explain.

Foster just slanted his gaze at Perry, still nose-to-glans with the chocolate cock.

“You just couldn’t help yourself because I’m so fucking hot. Pardon my language.”

“Pardoned,” said Perry. He was starting to like Foster. Really like Foster. He

shuffled a little, feeling like a dopey teenager, then said, a bit too quickly, “Say, since
you’re new in town, how about I take you to dinner?”

Foster’s wicked grin softened to a smile. “I’d like that. I’d like that very much.”
“Good. Meet me here? I get off at five.”

“A most excellent plan.” Foster lowered the chocolate, seeing a young mother

with a stroller approaching from outside. He bent closer to Perry, over the counter, his

voice low and gravelly. “And then maybe you’ll get off later, too.”

And with that, he was gone, nodding politely and holding the door for the

young mother, leaving Perry standing with his dick hard and his mouth hanging open.

Chapter Two

Foster liked Silver River. More than he’d expected, in fact. Which was a relief,

because he’d been expecting to hate the place.

When the Denver advertising firm he worked for had asked him to handle a new

account from a growing ski town, he’d been excited. Ski towns were good -- Vail,
Breckenridge, Aspen -- full of liberal-minded folk with assloads of money. But then

he’d found out the town was Silver River, not really a ski town at all, but a small
mountain town close enough to Vail to catch overflow tourists who didn’t want to

spend a year’s salary for a weekend in a hotel room.

Perhaps it was an unfair generalization, but little mountain towns didn’t usually

seem like gay meccas. And with no idea how long he’d be staying, Foster’s hopes of
hooking up on his sojourn to the mountains faded with every mile he’d driven up I-70.

Ah, well, he’d finally decided. Vail was close. He could drop by there to hang.

Surely there’d be a gorgeous hunk or two lurking on the slopes. And, worst-case

scenario, it was a short-term assignment. Six months, tops, his boss had said, living in
Silver River, getting the feel of it, farming out some article topics, starting a few blogs,

formulating a cutting edge, Web 2.0 advertising campaign -- his specialty.

Then he’d walked into Perry’s Chocolates. Love at First Bite, the sign said,

Guaranteed

He wasn’t even sure why he’d gone in there. Sure, he liked chocolate -- who

didn’t? -- but he didn’t generally seek it out. He had a tight six-pack to maintain, after
all, and his days of cruising LoDo would be a thing of the past if he let his ass get fat.

But it looked like it might be a draw for touristy types, especially if some of the rumors
he’d heard about Perry were true.

Elizabeth Jewell

Sex and Chocolate: The Chocolatier

Surely not. Nobody really did love potions. Not only was it patently ridiculous,

but was anybody really that goofily romantic anymore? It was a hard and cynical world

that crushed romance under its boot heels. Everybody knew that.

But the chocolate looked lovely. And so did Perry.

He’d have to change clothes before dinner tonight. He was pretty sure any

restaurant in this town would be casual -- it was hard to find a restaurant in the entire

state of Colorado that had any kind of a dress code -- but he wanted to impress, at least
a little bit. After all, Perry was hotter than fuck, and any guy who gave you a chocolate

penis two minutes after meeting you was probably an excellent bet for a good time. He
was a little older than what Foster usually went for, but Foster was flexible. In more

ways than one.

There was a small diner not far from the chocolate shop; Foster headed in and

ordered a light lunch. Then, dutifully, he entered notes into his Moleskine reporter’s
notebook about the town, the way it felt, the general atmosphere, and about Perry’s

Chocolates in particular. More and more, he felt like Perry’s was going to be a featured
establishment for his articles. After all, everybody liked chocolate.

The waitress who brought him his chicken wrap and Dr Pepper gave him a

flirtatious grin. “New in town?” she asked.

He smiled back and nodded. “Looking to write up some of the local businesses.”
The admission, as expected, led the girl to a narrative about the diner -- how long

they’d been in business, how devoted the owner was to supporting local businesses,
and various philanthropic ventures. Foster took more notes, then, when she seemed to

have run down and was starting to repeat herself, asked what he really wanted to
know.

“What about the chocolate shop? What can you tell me about that?”
The girl gave a sly grin, then it disappeared as if she had decided it wasn’t

appropriate. “Well, you might want to talk to Perry about that. Have you spoken to
him?”

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Sex and Chocolate: The Chocolatier

Foster countered her coyness with a bright, winning grin. “I did, actually. Bought

some chocolate, even. I just wanted a third-party opinion. I’ll probably chat with him

about the diner, for example.”

“Ah, good idea.” She nodded enthusiastically at the suggestion. “Well, there are

things they say about Perry’s chocolates, you know.”

“What kinds of things?”

The waitress leaned closer, a conspiratorial look on her face. The slyness relieved

him -- he’d been half afraid she’d say there were rumors Perry used bug parts or

something to enhance his truffles.

“They’re magic,” she said.

He blinked. “Well, they’re awfully tasty, that’s for sure.”
“No, they’re actually magic. If you eat one, you’ll find your true love.”

Foster thought of the dick-on-a-stick still lurking in his messenger bag. He hoped

fleetingly that it hadn’t melted. “Really?”

“Sure. All the brides go there to get chocolate favors for bachelorette parties.

Then all the bridesmaids get married, and they buy chocolate too.” Foster could tell his

skepticism had made its way to his face because she added, a little defensively, “I’m
serious. It totally works.”

“I’ll have to drop back by and talk to him about it,” Foster conceded. He

definitely would. True or not, it would make a great story. He made the obligatory

notes and slid the notebook back into his pocket.

He finished his lunch, composing snippets in his head about the ambiance of the

restaurant and the taste of the food. It was good, he had to admit -- not gourmet fare,
but no one expected to find gourmet fare in a diner. Leaving a third of the food

unfinished to make up for the chocolate he’d eaten, and the chocolate he’d probably eat
later, he folded his napkin, tucked money to cover the lunch and a generous tip under

the edge of the plate, and headed back out.

The whole atmosphere of Silver River felt welcoming to him. Some small towns

he’d visited it seemed like he could actually smell the homophobia in the air. But this

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Sex and Chocolate: The Chocolatier

place seemed relaxed. He knew his boss would roll his eyes if Foster repeated the
thought, but it had a good vibe about it.

Thinking again about the chocolate in the messenger bag, he made his way back

toward his hotel. It was walking distance -- nearly everything was walking distance in

the compact town center. Like many Colorado mountain towns, Silver River took
advantage of a small flat area nestled between rising peaks, and the main businesses

formed a clump, connected by faux-stone walkways. It should have looked artificial
rather than quaint, but somehow it worked.

Residents nodded and smiled as he passed, and he nodded back, feeling like he’d

lived there forever even though he didn’t know anyone’s name or recognize the

friendly faces. Maybe Perry’s Chocolates was magic, after all. Maybe the whole town
was. Vail, as much as he enjoyed it, had never felt this friendly.

At the hotel, which was one of only two in the small town, other

accommodations being B&Bs, he headed upstairs to his room, nodding greetings to the

woman behind the desk. She looked at him like she thought he might be edible. Or
straight. He’d admit to the former.

He’d been surprised when he’d checked in to find a mini fridge in the room.

Now he carefully slipped the chocolate cock out of his messenger bag. He peered at it

through the cellophane. It didn’t seem to have suffered from its trip through the
outdoors. All the little details remained intact.

For a moment he considered unwrapping it and having a taste, then decided

against it. It was too pretty to eat. Of course, he thought that way about a lot of cocks,

but those cocks didn’t dissolve when he gave in and licked them. This one would.
Carefully, he set it in the mini fridge and closed the door.

Chapter Three

With the remainder of the chocolate penises delivered to the bachelorette party,

Perry spent the rest of the afternoon making dark and milk chocolate truffles, as well as
more molded chocolate lollipops. These were more innocent, though, for public

consumption in the shop: flowers and small animals, a few just shaped like regular
lollipops.

Foster, his bright smile, and the odd feeling he’d engendered in Perry, were

never far from his mind.

As a result, he wasn’t surprised when, as he walked out and locked the store

behind him at five o’clock, he saw Foster sitting on the decorative bench on the

sidewalk, writing notes in a small, foldover reporter’s notebook. Perry smiled a little,
pleased for no good reason to see an actual pen and paper combination instead of

thumb-typing on a tiny phone keyboard.

“Hey,” he said, pitching his voice low to keep from startling the other man.

Foster looked up and granted Perry another of those blindingly gorgeous smiles.

“Perry. Perry the chocolatier,” Foster said.

“That would be me.” Perry stopped next to the bench, suddenly oddly shy.
“The lady at the diner tells me your chocolate is magical.”

Perry chuckled. “That’s what they say.” The odd touch of unease intensified, as if

somehow Foster might be able to sense the fact that the magic was real, not just the

product of someone’s addled imagination. As a result, his comment sounded strained.

They were both silent a moment, looking at each other. Perry felt as if he were

being measured up, and was certain he was giving Foster the same impression. Finally,

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Sex and Chocolate: The Chocolatier

after rolling the idea over in his head far too many times, he said, “Do you still want to
get some dinner?”

The words sounded strange. Then he realized why -- he and Foster had said the

same thing in nearly the same breath.

Perry chuckled. “I’m going to take that as a yes.”
Foster’s answering grin was bright and encouraging. “That’d be a good choice.”

“I thought so,” said Perry. He couldn’t help the twinge of self-consciousness, but

he couldn’t say no, either. This man was special; he could sense it, and he was in no

way dumb enough to not at least investigate the possibilities.

* * *

The possibilities, it turned out, involved an interview over dinner at Perry’s

favorite restaurant. Which was much more pleasant than it sounded -- much more
pleasant than Perry ever would have imagined an interview over dinner could be. They

ate, laughed, and from time to time quieted to listen to the live band playing in the bar,
far enough away not to interfere with conversation, but close enough they could make

out the songs.

Foster’s questions could have been “date” questions as easily as newspaper

interview questions. Perry didn’t mind. He told Foster about the history of the chocolate
shop, the reputation he’d gained as a sort of matchmaker, and how it had kept his

business moving along briskly even in less favorable economic times. Foster took notes,
but his demeanor wandered from purely professional.

In fact, Perry was fairly certain the younger man was flirting with him.
Finally, Foster laid down his pen and folded his notebook back up. “All right.

Enough of that.”

“All right,” Perry agreed, not sure what direction Foster intended to go next. He

pushed his fork through his pasta dish, self-conscious again.

Foster reached out and touched the back of Perry’s hand. “Maybe it’s too much

of an assumption,” he said quietly, looking at his fingers lying gently on Perry’s. “But
you did give me a chocolate dick on a stick.”

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Sex and Chocolate: The Chocolatier

Perry laughed. “I did. Was that too much of an assumption?”
“I don’t think so. In fact, I think it was just about right.”

Perry couldn’t deny he was relieved at that. “I’m glad to hear it.”
Foster’s hand withdrew slightly, now that he’d made his point, but lingered on

the table, leaving only a fraction of an inch between the tip of his fingers and Perry’s.
“So --” he started, then stopped, head tilted. “That’s our song,” he announced. “We

need to go dance.”

Perry listened. “‘Desperado’ is our song? Since when?”

“Since it’s the first slow thing they’ve played since we got here.” He closed the

distance between his hand and Perry’s, snatching it up and half dragging Perry away

from the table. “C’mon.”

Perry started to make a token protest, then decided he didn’t want to. He let

Foster drag him into the bar area. Other couples were dancing, as well, though only
three or four. Foster swung Perry into his arms, and they began to sway to the music.

Perry tensed, then slowly made himself relax. This wasn’t exactly how he’d

planned to come out to the town. He hadn’t planned to come out at all, truth be told.

But the warmth of Foster’s hands pressing against the small of his back just might be
worth it.

Then Foster slid a hand into the back pocket of Perry’s jeans, and it was

definitely worth it.

They moved slowly to the easy rhythm of the music, Foster pressing his hand

against Perry’s hip, sliding them into an alignment that had Perry so hard he could

barely breathe.

The other couples were watching them. Perry could feel their attention, and

could see gazes sliding toward them when he managed to tear his own gaze away from
Foster. He wasn’t sure how they were actually reacting, but most of the expressions

seemed neutral. In fact, one young woman, whose face Perry couldn’t quite place,
turned her head to whisper into her boyfriend’s ear, then passed Perry a sly grin.

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Sex and Chocolate: The Chocolatier

Maybe he’d put it off too long. Maybe everybody in the town already knew. Not

that it mattered much at this point, with Foster plastered to him, his hand down Perry’s

back pocket and his breath hot against Perry’s neck.

Then Foster turned his head, his teeth grazed the side of Perry’s neck, and Perry

damn near came in his pants. “Let’s get the fuck out of here,” Foster murmured.

Perry closed his eyes, trying to concentrate enough to understand what Foster

was saying to him. “Are you staying at the hotel?”

“Yeah.”

“My place is closer.”
“That’s a plan,” Foster said. “I can totally get behind that plan.”

Perry didn’t remember much about how they got off the dance floor. He did

remember tossing bills on the table as they passed, then heading out the door to the car.

Foster seemed amused by the proceedings, and bent on frustrating Perry as he tried to
rush the younger man to Foster’s car.

“Hey,” Foster said as Perry broke into a half-trot in the parking lot. “I’m the one

who’s not supposed to have any stamina. Or patience. Or any of that stuff you get when

you, you know, mature.”

Perry stopped short, giving Foster a look. “Are you calling me old?”

Foster just shrugged. The constant grin, as if the entire world amused him, could

be infuriating, Perry discovered. “I’m calling you older than me. You are, aren’t you?”

“A bit.” Perry relaxed a little, realizing the stupidity of his paranoia. “A year or

two.” It didn’t seem like the right time to broach the subject in any kind of detail.

Maybe after…

“I’m thirty-two,” Foster said. He didn’t quite blurt it, but it was close.

Perry nodded. He was happy to hear it, actually, because he’d guessed Foster to

be on the other side of thirty. “I just turned forty,” he said. “A week ago last

Wednesday.”

“Happy birthday,” said Foster. “Let’s get the fuck in the car.”

They got the fuck in the car.

Elizabeth Jewell

Sex and Chocolate: The Chocolatier

* * *

Perry was literally gnawing his fingernails off by the time Foster pulled up into

his driveway, guided there by Perry’s terse directions.

Perry had never felt like this before. Sure, he’d gotten himself in a hormonal

tizzy over plenty of men, even a few young ones, but not like this. He felt like he might

spontaneously combust and die if he couldn’t get his hands on Foster in the next minute
and a half.

It took a bit longer than that to get out of the car and into the house, but Perry

somehow managed to keep his hands to himself until the door swung shut behind him.

After that, all bets were off.

He swung toward Foster to find Foster moving right back toward him. They

collided at the mouth, the kiss poorly aimed and not quite properly aligned. Perry
heard Foster grunt, the sound a mix of startlement and discomfort, but when he tried to

pull back, the younger man grabbed him by the hair and dragged him closer, instead.

Perry hadn’t kissed anyone, or been kissed, like this for a long time. Most kissing

in his world was cursory, a brief stop on the way to the main event. He’d had many,
many perfectly satisfactory sexual encounters in which he’d never tasted the other

man’s mouth.

Kissing Foster was not like that. He could kiss Foster forever. He could come just

from kissing Foster, and for a few frightening seconds, thought he was going to do just
that. He was too damn old to have to worry about premature ejaculation.

“Oh, God,” said Foster suddenly, leaning back. The movement brought his hips

up hard against Perry’s, pressing the ridges of their erections together. Perry let his

head fall to Foster’s shoulder.

“You’re gonna kill me,” he muttered.

“I hope not,” Foster answered. “Frankly I can think of better ways for me to

spend my time.”

“So can I.” He shoved his hands up under Foster’s shirt. “You got any objections

to the bedroom?”

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Sex and Chocolate: The Chocolatier

“Not a one.”
“Good. ’Cause as much as I’d like to fuck you up against this wall, I’m not sure

my back can take it.”

Foster laughed. “Old man.”

“Shut up.”
Foster shut up, and Perry had the other man’s shirt half off him before they got

to the bedroom door. Playfully, he tripped Foster when they reached the bed, sending
him sprawling on his back on the mattress.

“Oof,” said Foster. “You play dirty.”
“I do.” Perry spread himself out over Foster’s supine body, rotating his hips

forward so the ridge of his erection slid against Foster’s. Foster closed his eyes a
moment and swallowed.

“And you like to top?” Foster’s voice was strained.
“When I get a chance.” He started to dive in for another kiss, then craned his

neck back to look into Foster’s face. “Is that okay?”

“It’s fine with me,” said Foster, and dragged Perry’s head down and fastened on

to his mouth.

The kissing was just too good, Perry thought. So good he might never actually

get to the sex itself. Oh, who was he kidding? Of course he’d get to the sex. But it might
take a little longer than usual.

Foster turned his head, disengaging his mouth from Perry’s.
“What?” Perry asked. Foster had an odd look on his face.

“You taste like…” He trailed off.
Suddenly paranoid, Perry pressed his lips tightly closed, afraid to open them

even enough to force out, “Taste like what?”

Foster grinned. “Chocolate.”

Perry laughed. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”
“Nope,” said Foster, and shoved his hands down Perry’s pants.

Elizabeth Jewell

Sex and Chocolate: The Chocolatier

It didn’t take long for them to be naked, hot skin against hot skin, shoes, socks,

jeans, and underwear all tossed haphazardly to the bedroom floor. Perry let his teeth

and tongue explore the line of Foster’s jaw, nipped at his earlobe, carefully traced the
tip of his tongue against the indentation of his temple. His cock strained against Foster’s

hard belly, begging for attention, but Perry ignored it, too absorbed in Foster’s smell
and taste.

Regardless of what Foster thought Perry tasted like, Foster himself did not taste

like chocolate at all. He tasted like man. Musk and skin, the evening’s beer, all mingled

on his body, and Perry stroked it all up into his mouth, filling every sense with nothing
but Foster. He felt the other man’s legs come up, thighs wrapping Perry’s waist. Foster

shifted his hips, making Perry’s steely, demanding cock slide along the groove between
his hip and thigh.

Perry couldn’t hold back a thick sound of need. “Want you,” he managed, and

Foster, obviously maintaining much better control of his brain’s language centers,

responded, “I gave you permission a long time ago.”

Everything he needed -- lube, condoms -- was all too far away. He would have to

disengage his mouth from Foster’s body in order to fetch them. He had to, though, or
they’d have no choice but to do nothing but kiss for the next eight hours. Not that Perry

had any immediate objections to that plan.

“God, Perry,” Foster grated. “Fuck me already.”

Apparently Foster did have immediate objections to that plan. Perry kissed

Foster one more time, stroking deep into his mouth to be sure he hadn’t missed

anything last time, then reluctantly bent back to open the bedside table drawer.

The tube of KY was twisted and half-empty, but serviceable. There was only one

condom. That didn’t bode well for the rest of the night. “Fuck,” Perry muttered.

“Please do,” Foster urged. He pressed the ball of his foot against Perry’s side,

pushing him back into position.

Perry held up the single condom with a chagrined expression.

“Is it expired?” Foster asked.

Elizabeth Jewell

Sex and Chocolate: The Chocolatier

“No.”
“Then shut the fuck up and put it on. I have more if we need them.”

Oh. Well. That was fortunate. Perry smiled a little and ripped the packet open.
He rolled the condom on, then gently fingered Foster open with a generous

dollop of lube. The lube was chilly, but Foster made little protest other than a sharp hiss
when Perry got started. After that, he tilted his hips up and back eagerly, drawing Perry

in faster and deeper than Perry had intended. Foster didn’t seem all that concerned
about prep.

“Now,” the younger man moaned, when Perry was certain he should spend at

least a few more minutes with the lube. But Foster was not to be denied. Perry

repositioned himself, lined up, and slowly slid in.

Foster made a low, sweet sound in his throat and used his heels to press Perry

closer. Perry leaned down to kiss him, then began a slow rhythm. This was too good not
to make it last, regardless of how eager Foster seemed to be.

Even now that they were down to business, Foster didn’t seem entirely happy

with Perry’s pace. Not so much insulted as amused, Perry moved with deliberate

slowness while Foster clutched at him with his thighs, making eager, nonsensical
sounds in the back of his throat.

Finally, Foster said, “Dammit!” and struck Perry’s shoulder with his fist.
Perry chuckled. “Is there a problem?” He slid -- still slowly -- deep inside, finally

settling himself to the root. Foster was hot and tight and damn near perfect.

“You’re fuckin’ torturing me.” He clasped Perry’s shoulders, forcefully trying to

move him forward and back. Perry felt him clench hard, and had to grind his teeth
together to keep from losing control.

“You want something?”
“Fuck, yeah,” Foster shot back.

“Then use your words. Tell me what you want.” He leaned forward and caught

Foster’s lower lip between his teeth, biting not-quite-gently.

Elizabeth Jewell

Sex and Chocolate: The Chocolatier

“Agh,” Foster managed. “Fuck me. Just fuck the ever-loving fucking hell out of

me.”

Perry licked the other man’s chin. “Please?”
“Please. For the love of all that’s holy. Please.”

Shifting a little, Perry kissed Foster gently on the forehead, then braced himself

on the bed and obligingly fucked the ever-loving fucking hell out of him.

Foster’s back arched, his legs spreading wide against the mattress, and a low,

feral groan tore from him as Perry went hard and deep into him, again and again. Hot.

So hot, and so fucking tight Perry wasn’t sure how he’d gotten in there in the first place.
He focused on the tight, backward curve of Foster’s neck, watching the rapid pulsing of

the big artery in his neck. Unconsciously, he began to thrust in time to the quickening
beat.

Foster had started to make words, also in rhythm. Not particularly interesting

words -- mostly just, “Shit, shit, shit, shit, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck,” over and over -- but

Perry was impressed that he could form coherent syllables at all. Maybe Perry wasn’t
trying hard enough.

He pinned Foster’s wrists to the mattress and thrust harder, faster, feeling his

own body coiling tighter and tighter, orgasm building in his lower belly, in the small of

his back.

“Look at me,” he murmured, barely aware he was speaking. “Look at me.”

Foster opened his eyes, his gaze locking to Perry’s.

Perry saw Foster’s climax rise in his eyes long seconds before he felt the other

man’s body tighten hard on him, felt Foster’s dick jerk between them while hot come
spilled on his chest and belly. Perry let go a moment later, orgasm overtaking him in

sharp, hard thrusts. Foster moaned, cried out, and for an instant Perry thought the
sound might be pain. He cupped the side of Foster’s face.

“Hey,” he said gently. “Hey.”
Foster squeezed his eyes shut. “It’s fine. I’m fine.”

“You sure?”

Elizabeth Jewell

Sex and Chocolate: The Chocolatier

“Yeah, I’m sure.” His body tightened on Perry’s cock again, somewhat

halfheartedly. He drew Perry’s face down to his and kissed him slowly. “So good. Don’t

be so easy on me next time.”

With a smile, Perry kissed him back, traced Foster’s mouth with his tongue.

“We’ll see,” he said, and drew him close.

Chapter Four

Perry woke boneless and weak, thoroughly satiated in a way he hadn’t been in a

long time. Foster still lay in the bed next to him, curled up with his back to Perry.

Perry scooted back a bit along the mattress, the better to admire the long curve of

Foster’s spine. For a few seconds he just looked, taking in the perfect shapes, the
muscles and the faint shadows of ribs. Then he moved closer, spooning his chest against

that long, lean back. Foster was warm, and smelled of sleep and sex.

Foster stirred slightly as Perry slid his arms around him. Perry pressed a gentle

kiss to his shoulder, not yet sure if the other man was awake. It felt good to be here,
tangled limbs and twisted sheets, and Foster quiet in his arms.

Everything about this moment seemed so… right. Granted, Perry hadn’t had sex

in a long time, but this was more than just satiation after long abstinence. The line of

Foster’s back fit in an easy curve against his belly and thighs, and it wasn’t long before
even their breathing was in synch. He closed his eyes and settled in to enjoy the

moment.

He had almost drifted back to sleep when Foster stirred in his arms. The younger

man’s hand shifted back, his palm molding over the lump of Perry’s crotch. Perry
jumped and blinked back awake, his cock a few moments ahead of him as far as

achieving alertness.

“Hmmmm,” said Foster thoughtfully.

“Hmmmm, yourself,” Perry answered. He shifted his own embrace, cupping

Foster so that the fingers of one hand tormented one of Foster’s nipples, while the other

slid along the growing line of the other man’s erection.

Elizabeth Jewell

Sex and Chocolate: The Chocolatier

“This is a nice way to wake up.” Foster moved his hand off Perry’s dick, rubbing

his lower belly instead.

“Can’t argue with that.” Perry moved again, letting his cock slide against Foster’s

round ass, then between his upper thighs. Foster was hot and warm. He felt like

heaven. Closing his eyes, Perry focused on the movement, thrusting gently into that
heat.

Foster gave a low, satisfied sound, then, to Perry’s consternation, clasped Perry’s

hip, stopping him.

“What?” Perry protested.
Foster turned over in his arms. Perry made another disgruntled noise, then

Foster’s cock pressed against his, distracting him again. He clasped Foster’s hips,
angling their erections together.

“Wait, wait,” said Foster. His hands went to Perry’s shoulders, holding him still.

“I have an idea.”

“It better be a damned good one,” Perry grumbled.
“You have chocolate in this house somewhere, right? I mean, you have to.”

“Um…” It took Perry a moment to figure out what Foster had said. Most of his

brain was focused between his legs, where Foster’s early-morning energy was making

his hard shaft ride in soft, involuntary movements against Perry’s. “Yeah. Chocolate.
Sure. There’s glacé in the fridge.”

“Glacé?”
“Glaze. Icing. Chocolate and --”

Foster swung out of the bed, announcing, “Perfect,” in the same breath that Perry

protested, “Hey!”

Foster leaned back and patted Perry’s thigh. “No worries, babe. I’ll be right

back.”

With a sigh, Perry watched Foster scamper naked out of the bedroom. “Babe,” he

repeated. “Yeah, right.”

Elizabeth Jewell

Sex and Chocolate: The Chocolatier

He heard the fridge open, heard rummaging, then Foster called, “Can I nuke

this?”

“Yeah, just be careful with it. Don’t heat it too much or you’ll ruin it.” Mushing

his face into the pillow, he wondered if there was any chance he might be able to get

back to sleep, since Foster wasn’t here to molest. Not much chance of that, though, with
his cock drilling a hole in the mattress. He reached down and cupped himself, rocking

into his own hand. Not quite the way he’d planned to start the morning, but he
supposed it would do.

The microwave beeped, and a moment later Foster came bouncing -- literally --

back into the bedroom, carrying a glass bowl full of the glacé Perry had whipped up a

couple of days ago. It had been an experiment, and while it had proved interesting, he
didn’t think it would go over well at the shop, where the customers enjoyed their

chocolate a bit more mainstream. So he’d left it in the fridge, which wasn’t the best way
to treat fine chocolate glaze, but he hadn’t had time to do much else with it.

Foster, on the other hand, seemed to have a variety of ideas about what to do

with it. He flopped onto the bed, somehow ending in a perfect, fakir-like crossed-legged

position, and settled the bowl in his lap. He stuck a finger in and tasted it.

“Mmmm. This is tasty.” He took another swipe into the bowl. “What’s in it?

Don’t tell me.”

Perry rolled over onto his side, the better to watch Foster as he screwed his face

up, trying to evaluate the flavors. He doubted Foster would be able to guess.

Foster rolled glacé around his mouth for a minute, then looked at Perry.

“Matcha? Seriously?”

Shaking his head, Perry reached for the other man. “I think I want to keep you.”

He flinched then, wondering why he’d said that so brazenly.

Foster just laughed and kissed him hard. The bowl of glacé, half-forgotten

between them, tipped sideways. Warm, thick chocolate trickled down Perry’s stomach.

“Nice,” said Foster, noticing what had happened. He leaned back, pressed Perry

against the pillows, and proceeded to lick the chocolate off his skin.

Elizabeth Jewell

Sex and Chocolate: The Chocolatier

Oh, that was nice. Nicer than nice. That was, in fact, the best thing anybody had

ever done with chocolate in Perry’s presence. He closed his eyes and let Foster have his

way, only vaguely worrying about what would happen if the chocolate got into the
sheets.

Then Foster dripped warm glacé from his finger down the length of Perry’s cock,

and let his tongue trace after it. Perry moaned. If he had to buy new sheets, then so be it.

This was pure heaven. The sheets weren’t exactly fancy, anyway.

Greedily, Foster retrieved the warm chocolate from Perry’s body, then deposited

more, letting it run between his thighs, over his balls. Everywhere, his tongue followed.
Perry clutched the sheets, back arching, thighs shaking uncontrollably. Foster licked the

underside of his scrotum, lower. When the tip of his tongue slid inside, Perry let out a
shuddering moan that barely sounded human.

Chuckling, Foster tongued him deeper, then followed with his fingers, their

entry eased by more of the slick glacé. Perry was sure it wasn’t the best form of

lubricant, but as long as it worked…

His brain went blank. Foster prodded his prostate, and stars burst behind Perry’s

eyeballs. “Shit. Shit,” he managed. It wasn’t much, instruction-wise, but Foster seemed
to understand. He closed thumb and forefinger in a tight circle around the base of

Perry’s dick, strangling the orgasm that was about to burst out of him.

“Easy, baby,” said Foster, and Perry was too far gone to manage a chortle at the

“baby.” He pushed his hips toward Foster, thighs opening farther than he really
thought they could. Foster licked up his lower belly, then eased up between his thighs

and slid slowly home.

Perry spread his arms across the mattress, wrapping his legs around Foster as the

younger man settled in to thrust. It was good, so very, very good. He pushed back,
bringing Foster’s thrusts deeper. He wasn’t going to last much longer, but the glorious

wave of sensation carrying him off left him little choice. He took the ride, cock pulsing
against Foster’s hard, flat stomach, while Foster took him hard and deep.

Chapter Five

They walked into the diner holding hands. Perry felt almost painfully self-

conscious and pulled at Foster’s hand as they crossed the threshold, trying to
disengage. Foster just tightened his fingers on Perry’s and gave him an evil grin.

If he’d been afraid of scandalizing Carrie, who was working the morning shift as

usual, he obviously had wasted his worry in that department. Seeing them come in

together, she grinned and patted Foster on the shoulder. “Making friends, I see,” she
said.

“You bet,” Foster answered, and squeezed Perry’s hand tighter.
“Well, then, let’s just find you two a nice, cozy booth.” She passed them a wink

and led the way toward the back of the diner.

Perry gave Foster a look he hoped was encouraging, but Foster’s grin indicated

he was more at home here in Perry’s usual habitat than Perry was. You’re an uptight old

man

, he told himself as he slid into the booth across from Foster. Foster promptly

arranged his feet cozily on top of Perry’s. Perry couldn’t help but smile.

The waitress gave them another conspiratorial wink. “How ‘bout some coffee to

wake you two up?”

Perry stifled a choking sound at the forwardness of the comment. Foster

chuckled.

“Highest octane you got,” he said. Carrie grinned and headed off.

“You’re insufferable,” Perry muttered, without rancor.
“You love it,” Foster answered.

Perry blinked. Did he? He thought maybe he did. That didn’t mean he loved

Foster, though, or that Foster was his true love. Did it?

Elizabeth Jewell

Sex and Chocolate: The Chocolatier

“God, don’t think so hard.” Foster leaned forward to rest the tip of a finger

between Perry’s eyebrows, smoothing out the frown line Perry could feel developing

there.

Perry shook his head a little. “Sorry. Just…” He trailed off.

“Thinking?” Foster suggested.
“Yeah. Thinking.”

Foster was silent a moment, considering. “You’re not really out, are you?”
Perry shook his head, managing a wry grin. “Well. I didn’t think so. Carrie

doesn’t seem so shocked, though.”

“I’m sorry if I put you in an awkward position.”

“You didn’t,” Perry said hastily, anxious to reassure the younger man. “It’s all

right, really. I’m just… I think I see it all a little differently, is all.”

“Because you’re an old man.”
Perry’s attempt to formulate a snappy reply was interrupted by Carrie’s return.

She set two coffee cups and a carafe of the rich-smelling brew on the table.

“There you go, boys. Ready to order?”

They ordered, both erring on the side of lower fat. Perry found the interruption

almost a relief. He didn’t want Foster to think there was any kind of problem between

them, but he didn’t want to talk about it, either.

When Carrie had departed again, with their order scribbled on her notepad,

Foster leaned over the table. Perry steeled himself. Obviously Foster was going to talk
about it.

“Seriously, Perry, I’m out and proud.” Foster kept his voice pitched low. “But I

don’t want to cause any trouble for you or make you uncomfortable, so just tell me if I

go over the top.”

Perry chuckled. “You? Over the top? I can’t imagine.”

Foster flashed a brilliant grin. “See? You’ve only known me a couple of days and

you’ve already figured that out about me.” He patted the back of Perry’s hand. “I think

it’s meant to be.”

Elizabeth Jewell

Sex and Chocolate: The Chocolatier

The warmth Perry felt moving up his neck didn’t quite feel like embarrassment.
They ate breakfast quietly together, Foster gently bumping his feet against

Perry’s under the table. It felt homey. Nice. And more intimate in its way than the sex
they’d shared last night and this morning. Perry tried not to think about Foster heading

back to Denver, to his life and his job. Of course he would have to eventually -- Perry
couldn’t expect Foster to drop everything to live here in the middle of nowhere.

His thoughts broke apart when he realized Foster was talking to him. At the

same time, another voice caught his attention from the other side of the diner. He

blinked at Foster, who smiled and started to repeat himself, but then the other voice
rose, higher and shriller, and they both turned to look.

Carrie had taken a seat at the counter, on a stool next to another woman who

appeared to be close to hysterics. Carrie’s face was sober, and she patted the other

woman’s shoulder consolingly. Her back faced Perry, so it took him a moment to
recognize Kayla Pierce.

“You know her?” Foster asked quietly.
“Yeah.” Perry shifted in his seat, uncomfortable. “I made chocolates for her

daughter’s wedding last month.”

“She doesn’t seem happy.” The words seemed flippant, but Foster’s tone was

serious. “Did you mess up her wedding?”

“The wedding went fine. The marriage, not so much.”

“Breaking up already?” Foster peered at Kayla, who had calmed a little under

Carrie’s sympathetic ministrations.

“Yeah. You know how fickle men are.” Feeling immediately guilty for the cheap

joke at Kayla’s expense, Perry gave Foster a wry grin. Foster offered an understanding

smile.

On an impulse, Perry came to his feet and crossed the room to join Carrie and

Kayla. Once he got there, he wasn’t sure what he’d planned to do or say, so he just put a
hand lightly on Kayla’s shoulder.

Elizabeth Jewell

Sex and Chocolate: The Chocolatier

“I’m so sorry to hear about Melissa --” he started, then broke off when Kayla

swung around on the bar stool to fix him with a glare so intense he thought he felt it

spear straight through his chest.

“You,” she snarled. “This is your fault. You and your ‘magic chocolate.’” She

made huge, angry air quotes, her fingers curled like claws.

Perry flinched back, taken off-guard by her vehemence. “I’m sorry?”

“It was you and your stupid chocolates that convinced her she should marry

Robby in the first place.”

“I… it was?”
“He gave her one of those ‘find your true love’ truffles at Lara’s wedding. And

then he knocked her up and married her and --” She broke off in a flood of hysterical
tears.

Perry blinked. Lara’s wedding. Had he even provided magic chocolates for

Lara’s wedding? He couldn’t remember.

Carrie, though, had taken over the conversation.
“Oh, for God’s sake, don’t yell at him,” she said. “You don’t really believe he

gives people magic chocolate, do you?”

Perry started to open his mouth to protest, then closed it. The last thing he

needed to do right now was defend the legitimacy of his magical chocolate.

Kayla dashed tears from her eyes and took a breath. “Of course not. I’m just --”

She waved a hand randomly, at a loss for words.

“Well, of course you are, honey.” Carrie patted her back and gave Perry a look

and a quick nod, indicating he should go back to his booth.

Perry couldn’t have agreed more. He turned to head back and ended up running

straight into Foster.

Which really wasn’t a bad thing, but it made him go, “Oof,” and put up his

hands to regain his balance. The movement put his palms flat against Foster’s muscular
chest, and Perry had to swallow back an urge to feel him up right there.

Elizabeth Jewell

Sex and Chocolate: The Chocolatier

“What’s going on?” Foster asked. His voice was laced with concern, and his own

hands came up to catch Perry by the wrists, stopping him from doing any much-desired

exploration over Foster’s torso.

“She’s just upset,” Perry equivocated. “Come on. Let’s finish breakfast.”

They returned to their booth, but the spell between them had been disturbed.

Not quite broken, but it certainly wasn’t the same as it had been.

And, in the back of Perry’s mind, a niggling thought had taken form, and he just

couldn’t shake it loose.

What if the magic he so painstakingly wove through his chocolate recipes really

didn’t work as advertised? There was a fine line, after all, between a true love spell and

a coercive aphrodisiac. What if he’d made a mistake in a batch or two or, worse yet, lost
his touch? And worst of all, if he had indeed lost the ability to formulate the magic

correctly, what if the chocolate he’d given Foster had brought him to Perry’s bed under
false pretenses?

The thought made him queasy, and the more he thought about it, the queasier he

felt. Coercive magic wasn’t exactly his idea of a grand love affair.

He finished off the last of his egg white omelet, swigged the last of the rich, black

coffee, and folded his napkin on the table. Foster watched gravely.

“Want to go back to the hotel?” he offered, but Perry could tell from his tone that

he didn’t expect Perry to take him up on the suggestion.

Perry smiled ruefully. “I need to get to the shop. If the chocolate doesn’t flow,

neither does the money.”

Foster nodded. He looked like he was going to say something, but in the end he

didn’t. Instead he started to reach for his wallet.

“I’ve got it.” Perry pulled out his own wallet, quicker than Foster, and laid cash

on the table, enough to cover about twice the actual bill. “Let’s go.”

He twitched a glance toward Kayla, then slid out of the booth.

Chapter Six

Business was slow throughout the day, not providing nearly enough distraction

for Perry’s swirling thoughts. By noon, he had come to a decision. It wasn’t the decision
he’d wanted to make, but it made more sense than anything his heart kept telling him

to do.

He had to break things off with Foster. As much as Perry liked him, and as much

as Foster seemed to like Perry, Perry couldn’t convince himself their liaison was
anything more than a fling on Foster’s side. Perry was, after all, over forty, which in gay

male terms meant basically dead. Especially to a young, attractive man like Foster, who
still had a few years left to sow his wild oats. Sure, Foster was already over thirty, but

he could still pass for twenty-five, and Perry didn’t want to make him choose between
that life and the stagnation of a tiny, conservative mountain town.

Or at least that was what he kept telling himself.
By five o’clock, when he turned the “Closed” sign around on the door of the

shop, he had gone back and forth about nineteen million times. He wanted Foster to
stay. Foster couldn’t stay. He didn’t want to hold Foster back. He wanted to hold Foster

here. He didn’t want to tie Foster down. He wanted to tie Foster down… to his bedpost,
and then fuck him silly twice a day for the rest of his life.

Locking the shop door behind him, Perry sighed. It was a hopeless conundrum,

but he knew he had to do the right thing. He looked sadly into the chocolate shop,

where the security lights passed a wan glow onto the rows of chocolates under the
glass. There were too many left today -- he’d only had a few customers. Maybe Kayla

had spread her story about Perry’s role in her daughter’s divorce. Maybe his days as a
successful chocolatier in Silver River were nearing an end…

Elizabeth Jewell

Sex and Chocolate: The Chocolatier

“Hey.”
Perry nearly jumped out of his skin. He wheeled around, heart racing, his brain a

moment ahead of his adrenal system in recognizing the voice as Foster’s. “Shit, you
scared the fuck out of me.”

Foster grinned. “That’s too bad. I was hoping to use that fuck later tonight.”
Perry couldn’t help a smile. Shaking his head, he reached out and took Foster’s

hand, pulling him in for an easy kiss. Heart over head, he thought ruefully, or cock over
brain. Something like that. “Dinner?” he asked.

“Sure,” Foster said.
And Perry, finally, made his mouth say what he knew he had to say. “Okay. We

need to talk.”

* * *

“I don’t get it.” Foster stared at Perry over what remained of his dessert -- a

second-rate chocolate torte that neither of them had managed to do much with. He’d
been all ready for another night of rolling in the sheets with his new lover, and now

Perry had decided to call it off. He felt like stabbing Perry in the eye with the tiny
shrimp fork the waitress hadn’t picked up after they’d finished their entrees. He felt like

crying. “I don’t get it at all.”

Perry poked the torte, shredding it with his fork. “You know I’m right.”

Foster opened his mouth to retort, then closed it again. If he let himself talk, he’d

say things he didn’t mean. He swallowed, closed his eyes, opened them again. “You

mean about me going back to Denver?”

“Yeah. You’re not going to stay here. There’s no reason to. And I’m --” Perry

broke off.

“Too old for me?” Foster’s tone was sharp and edgy. “Give me a break with that

shit.”

Perry was quiet for a moment. “I was going to say I was getting a little too

attached.”

Another moment of silence hung over the table. Then Foster said carefully, “Oh.”

Elizabeth Jewell

Sex and Chocolate: The Chocolatier

He considered saying he was getting a little too attached, too, but he had a

niggling feeling something more was going on than Perry trying to save his own heart.

Or to save Foster’s, for that matter. Something that poked at the edge of his brain, but
which he couldn’t quite manage to get to make sense.

“Okay,” he finally said into Perry’s morose silence. “Okay.”
Perry nodded, but said nothing. Frustrated, and not sure how to find out exactly

what was going on, Foster stood. “Okay,” he said again. “I need to think about this. I’ll
talk to you tomorrow.” He pulled out his wallet.

“Foster…” Perry started, but Foster shook his head. He threw a pile of bills on

the table.

“Tomorrow. We’ll talk tomorrow.”
Resolutely, he turned his back on Perry and walked out of the restaurant.

* * *

Foster spent a long night alone in his too-cold hotel room, dozing fitfully and

staring at the ceiling.

What the fuck had happened? He and Perry had been enjoying a perfectly good

romp, to the point where Foster was starting to think it might grow into something

more. And now Perry was backing off.

Foster didn’t buy the whole, “It’s for your own good,” argument. That was

bullshit. He’d had that card played on him before, and it was always bullshit. It either
meant the other guy was trying -- and failing -- to bow out gracefully, or that he’d

gotten scared.

He didn’t think Perry really wanted out. So what was he scared of?

At five forty-five, Foster finally gave up trying to sleep. He got up, threw on a

sweatshirt and loose jeans, and sat at the hotel room desk with his laptop. Maybe he

could at least get some work done.

Burying himself in his work helped. When he looked up again, it was eight

o’clock, and his stomach was grumbling. He went to the mini fridge and pulled it open.

Elizabeth Jewell

Sex and Chocolate: The Chocolatier

Next to the protein bars was the cellophane-wrapped chocolate cock, still tied

neatly with the narrow blue ribbon. He picked it up and looked at it, feeling wistful.

Everything had started out so promising.

With a sigh, he set the chocolate back in the fridge and closed the door. Fuck

protein bars. He needed real food for breakfast.

* * *

The diner was quiet, no more than a half-dozen people seated for breakfast.

Foster was surprised to see Carrie there again. She smiled at him and led him to a small
booth at the back.

“All alone this morning?” she asked as he slid into the booth.
“Yeah. Perry’s at the shop. Guess he has to make money.” He was surprised at

his own voice, bland and a little chilly.

Carrie quirked an eyebrow at him. “Trouble in paradise?”

“Well. Not sure it’s paradise.” He managed a smile. “Not sure there’s trouble,

either.”

“Ah.” Carrie glanced back over her shoulder, then resolutely laid Foster’s menu

on the table and took a seat opposite him. She folded her hands in front of her. Damn.

She really meant business.

“Okay. Spill it.”

Foster ran a hand across his face and sighed. “Okay. Perry wants to break things

off.”

“Well, for God’s sake, why?”
“That’s what I don’t quite get. Something about me having to go back to Denver,

and me being too young for him, and blah blah blah bullshit.”

Carrie leaned her chin on a hand and eyed him thoughtfully. “That’s dumb.”

“I know, right?”
For a few long seconds, Carrie considered him, then said, “Okay. I’m going to get

us some coffee, and we’re going to talk.”

Elizabeth Jewell

Sex and Chocolate: The Chocolatier

Foster wasn’t sure he wanted to talk, but he was even more sure that he didn’t

want Carrie pissed at him.

“All right,” he said. “We’ll talk.”

* * *

Carrie poured coffee, doctoring hers with more sugar than Foster thought could

actually dissolve in a cup of coffee. She took a sip, made a face, and added another
packet. “Okay. Tell me.”

Reluctantly, Foster told her. As he continued, he began to warm to the subject. “I

don’t think he doesn’t like me,” he finally concluded. “I really think there’s something

else going on.”

Carrie, who had sipped at her cup throughout, refilled her coffee. “You know, he

bases his career on finding true love for other people. It’s not really any surprise he
can’t see it for himself.”

“I don’t --” He broke off, realizing he was just as reluctant to deny true love as he

was to admit to it. He decided to take a different tack. “What do you mean?”

“The chocolate shop. You know. The love at first bite thing.”
“That’s just a slogan.”

“Not really. He takes it pretty seriously, and so does the rest of the town.”
“Really?”

“Yep.” She topped off Foster’s coffee. “Haven’t you looked at his price list? He

charges premium prices for the Find Your True Love chocolates.”

“And they really work?”
Carrie shrugged. “They’re supposed to.” She frowned. “Guess they didn’t work

quite right for Kayla’s daughter.”

Something clicked in the back of Foster’s head. It was a ridiculous idea, but in the

context of what he’d just learned, it made a weird kind of sense.

“He gave me chocolate,” he said, not realizing at first that he’d said it aloud.

Carrie frowned, obviously not quite following Foster’s train of thought. “What

kind of chocolate? Was it the ‘magic’ stuff?” She made air quotes as she spoke.

Elizabeth Jewell

Sex and Chocolate: The Chocolatier

“I don’t know.” If it had been… He mulled the thought. It almost made sense,

but he couldn’t quite get the pieces to fit.

One thing he did know, though. He hadn’t eaten the chocolate dick.

* * *

Perry glanced at his watch. It was nearly noon -- time for lunch. He wanted to

call Foster. Everything in him wanted to see him, touch him. They couldn’t do that,
though. He had to let go.

His hand reached for the cell phone in his pocket. He pushed the button that

showed the last few phone calls he’d received. The last three entries were Foster’s

number.

His thumb hovered over the icon on the screen that would dial the number.

“No.” He said it out loud, trying to convince himself it was a bad idea. “No,” he

said again.

The phone rang.
He jumped so violently he nearly dropped the phone. It vibrated in his hand,

playing the default ringtone he’d programmed in a few months ago. The number
flashing was familiar -- the same number he’d been looking at only moments ago.

He let it ring until the ringtone repeated, telling himself he shouldn’t answer it.
He answered it.

“Hello?”
“Perry? It’s Foster.”

“Yeah.” He reflected on the uselessness of identifying yourself on the phone in

the age of caller ID, mostly to keep from thinking about the way Foster’s voice made his

toes curl.

“I said we were going to talk.”

“You did.” Perry rubbed the bridge of his nose. “Yeah. You did.”
There was a pause on the other end. “Look, I know you don’t want to, but I think

we need to. And after… well, if you still want to move on, then that’s okay.”

“Yeah.” Perry’s vocabulary seemed woefully inadequate. “Yeah. Yeah, okay.”

Elizabeth Jewell

Sex and Chocolate: The Chocolatier

A tinge of humor colored Foster’s reply, but he only said, “Great. I’ll come pick

you up.”

* * *

Perry waited, stomach roiling. It seemed an eternity had passed, and still no sign

of Foster. How long, he thought grumpily, did it take to get to the chocolate shop from

the hotel, anyway? There was really no point talking about it anymore. He’d checked
Lara’s invoices, and the chocolate Rob had given Melissa was definitely the magic kind.

Foster had been coerced by a magical chocolate penis, and it was time they both faced
that fact.

Fortunately, a young woman came into the shop and began to quiz him about

prices for hostess gifts before he could get much more morose. He had pulled out his

client catalog for her to look at when the bell on the door rang again. Looking up, he
saw Foster saunter in. Foster smiled a little hesitantly. Perry gave him a brief nod and

returned to his customer.

He deliberately stretched out the conversation with the customer, talking at

length about the specialty chocolates in the display case at the end even though he
knew she was after much simpler fare. Even when he saw her eyes start to glaze over,

he couldn’t bring himself to let it drop, knowing that he’d have to face Foster as soon as
she left.

Finally, seeming a little desperate, she looked pointedly at her watch, then

picked up the pamphlets he’d laid out on the table.

“I need to get going, but thanks so much for your help.” And then she half-ran

out of the shop, giving Foster a sidelong glance. Dammit. Perry was almost certain she

knew exactly why he’d been stalling.

And there was no way to stall anymore. He turned to face Foster.

“Those ‘Flavors of the East’ chocolates sound interesting,” the younger man

offered. “Or disgusting. I’m not sure which.”

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Sex and Chocolate: The Chocolatier

“You tasted the matcha --” Perry broke off, suddenly overcome by the memory

of that event. Foster smiled at him, an odd smile that included eyebrows drawn

together, frownlike.

“You okay?” he asked.

“Fine,” said Perry shortly. “Let’s go.”
He sensed a vague aura of amusement drifting from Foster, which he found

irritating. What was he so fucking amused about? Perry didn’t find the situation even
remotely funny.

“Where are we going?” he finally asked, his tone a bit too sharp.
“Back to my hotel,” Foster answered.

Perry stopped short. “Foster…”
“We need to talk.” Foster’s voice was a bit clipped, as well. “I thought it would

be better somewhere away from other people. Somewhere quiet.”

Perry gave him a dubious look.

“Talk,” Foster repeated. “Just talk.”
“Right.” He still wasn’t sure it was the best idea, but Foster was right about

needing some quiet. And Perry didn’t think his house would be a great choice, since
they’d christened the place fairly thoroughly. It would be hard to have a serious

conversation at Perry’s house without thinking about having matcha chocolate glacé
licked off his dick.

They walked the rest of the way in silence, Perry becoming more anxious the

closer they got to the hotel. He didn’t want to have this conversation. If he tried to

explain to Foster exactly why he wanted to break things off, Foster would just think he
was nuts. And then he’d want to break things off, so in Perry’s mind they were just

saving a step if they ended everything now.

“This is dumb,” he ventured as they stepped onto the elevator in the hotel.

“Yes,” said Foster, “it is.” And apparently that was all he had to say about the

situation, because he remained annoyingly silent all the way up to his room.

Chapter Seven

Once they got to the room, Perry hoped Foster would start to talk, but instead, he

went to the mini fridge and pulled out a pair of beers. Holding them by the neck
between the fingers of one hand, he angled one toward Perry. “Drink,” he said. “Talk.”

Perry screwed the lid off the beer and took a long swig, but didn’t follow it up

with any talking. He wasn’t sure where to start. Foster took a seat in a chair near the

end of the hotel bed and eyed him, waiting.

Finally Perry perched on the edge of another chair and took a breath.

“I’m not sure what you want me to say.”
“What I want you to say is irrelevant. I just want to know why the sudden

backpedal.”

Perry shrugged. “I’m not the right guy for you.”

“Don’t I have any say in that?”
“You don’t want to stay here. You have a life in Denver.”

“And this you said to me already. And if you’re thinking about me staying here,

then that tells me this is more than just a fling to you.”

Perry stared morosely at his beer bottle. “There’s nothing to talk about. I said

what I wanted to say already.”

Foster didn’t move any closer, but it felt like he did. His voice was quiet and

intimate and felt like a touch. “I think there’s something else.”

Perry jolted to his feet. He had to get away from that voice before it shredded his

resolve. “It’s not even me,” he burst out. “It’s the fucking chocolate.”

Foster looked like he was going to say something else. Perry didn’t want to hear

it. He wheeled and pushed his way out of the hotel room.

Elizabeth Jewell

Sex and Chocolate: The Chocolatier

* * *

Half afraid Foster would follow him, Perry ran for it. His car was back at the

chocolate shop -- it wasn’t far, and once he got there he could go…

Where? His bed still smelled like Foster. He already felt sick to his stomach. It

wasn’t ordinary nausea -- he only felt that way when he knew he’d made a horrible

mistake. He thought he might throw up. Or maybe that was just because he was old
and out of breath and running as fast as he could with a bottle of imported beer in one

hand.

He peered over his shoulder. If Foster was following him, he was taking his

sweet time about it. Perry slowed his pace. No point giving himself a heart attack,
although that would solve everybody’s problems nice and neat, wouldn’t it?

He walked the rest of the way back to the shop, catching his breath. Taking a few

swigs of the cold beer helped too. Finally within sight of the shop’s front door, he

stopped, slugged down the last of the beer, and tossed the glass bottle in a nearby
recycling container.

Then he looked at the shop door. Someone was sitting on the sidewalk in front of

it.

His heart lurched for a moment, thinking it was Foster. If it was, he’d made crazy

time from the hotel to get here first. Then he registered who it really was, and decided it

might actually be worse.

It was Rob -- Robby Cressler -- the man who’d broken Melissa’s heart.

“The fuck?” he mumbled to himself. Seriously, did he need any more

complications right now? With a sigh, he continued up the sidewalk.

Rob slowly came to his feet as Perry approached. He shifted nervously, rubbing

his hands on his pants.

“Hey,” Rob said, before Perry was quite in conversation range.
Perry took a few more steps before answering, “Hey.”

“I need to talk to you.”

Elizabeth Jewell

Sex and Chocolate: The Chocolatier

Perry nodded. He stopped by the shop door and opened it, holding the door

open for Rob. “You better get inside. I think there’s a lynch mob out after you.”

Rob looked nervously over his shoulder as if taking Perry literally. He moved

briskly into the chocolate shop, while Perry closed and locked the door behind them. He

left the “Closed” sign turned around. He could open back up after this was settled.

“So,” he said, giving Rob a level look. The young man looked genuinely upset.

“What’s up?”

“Dude. Dude, I fucked up. I fucked up real bad.”

“So I heard.” Perry gestured toward his office in the back of the shop. “Go on in

and have a seat. Let’s talk.”

Honestly, he had no idea what they would talk about, but Rob seemed desperate,

and far be it from Perry to turn him away. After all, his chocolates had likely caused the

problem in the first place.

In the office, Rob perched hesitantly on the edge of a chair. Perry flopped into his

own, comfortable office chair and dropped his feet on the desk. “Tell,” he said.

Rob was literally wringing his hands. Under other circumstances, Perry might

have found it amusing. “That chocolate shit, that find your true love shit, is it true?”

Perry stared at him a moment. That really wasn’t the first thing he’d expected to

hear. And, at this point, he wasn’t sure how to answer the question. Finally he steepled
his fingers, pressing forefingers against his lower lip. “The recipe has been practiced in

my family for about five generations. It’s been fairly reliable for all that time, as far as I
know.”

“And that chocolate, the ones at Lara’s wedding. They were the whatsit, the

magic kind, right?”

“According to her invoice, yes.”
“Shit. Shit. ’Cause, man, I fucked up. I really fucked up.”

“Yeah, you said that.” Perry lowered his hands to the desk, getting impatient.

“Look. It’s entirely possible it’s just a placebo effect. I tell you the chocolate’s magic or

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Sex and Chocolate: The Chocolatier

whatever, and your brain does the rest. So, if you gave her the chocolate just to get laid
or whatever, then --”

“No.” Rob jumped to his feet and began to pace the small office. “That’s not it,

man. I mean, at first, sure, I was like, man this shit’s really stupid if she thinks I’m her

true love or whatever. Then it all just, like -- got crazy.”

Perry knew the end of that story. “And you got married and it was more than

you could handle, and you wanted out.”

“Yeah. I mean no. I mean --” He shoved a hand through his hair. “Shit. I mean,

like, I really love her, man. For serious.”

Perry shook his head. “It’s just the chocolate. Just the fucking chocolate.”

“No. No. Dude. I didn’t even eat the fucking chocolate. She did, but I didn’t.”
Perry opened his mouth, then closed it again when he realized what Rob had

said. “You didn’t?”

“No way. Didn’t touch the stuff. Just gave it to Melissa. I’m fucking allergic,

man.”

“So you didn’t eat the chocolate at all?”

Rob looked at him like he was an idiot. “I just said that. C’mon. I need help

here.”

“You’re her true love.” Perry was barely aware he spoke the words, his brain

reeling through all the possibilities. “Maybe she’s not yours?”

“Dude.” Rob waved a hand in front of Perry’s face. “Could you, like, listen for

two seconds?”

“Oh. Oh, I’m sorry.” He focused on Rob and tried to quiet his swirling brain.
“I’m not saying I don’t love her. I’m saying I do. I do so fucking much I don’t

know what to do with it.”

Perry nodded. “I’m… not really sure why you came to me.”

Rob flung up his hands. “Neither am I. Seriously, neither am I. I just… you make

the damn chocolates, I thought you might know something about how to deal with this

love shit, you know?”

Elizabeth Jewell

Sex and Chocolate: The Chocolatier

He didn’t. Perry didn’t have any clue what to do with the love shit, not one bit

more than Rob did, in spite of his advanced years. He had it all over him, no matter

what happened down the line, no matter what decisions he and Foster decided to make.
Magic chocolate or not, the love shit was real.

He looked Rob straight in the eye. “You go to her. You tell her you’re sorry, that

you love her, and you want her more than anything in the world. And you hope to God

she takes you back. And from now on, you never, ever treat that feeling like anything
other than what it is.”

Rob looked small, young, and completely overwhelmed. “What’s that?”
“A fucking miracle.”

* * *

After he saw Rob off, the young man shaking and wringing his hands and

obviously feeling far out of his depth, Perry left the shop. He left the “Closed” sign

turned around in spite of a few hopeful-looking ladies peering in the window, and went
for a walk.

He walked for a long time. He walked until the sky started to turn orange over

the ragged line of the mountains. He’d hoped to walk until things started to make

sense, but after the first hour he determined the things he wanted to make sense weren’t
meant to. He was just going to have to muddle through, like everybody else in the

world.

Finally, he headed back toward the shop, and his car. And maybe, just maybe,

back to Foster.

* * *

He’d almost expected Foster to be waiting at the chocolate shop. Had hoped for

it, in a dark corner of his brain he didn’t want to acknowledge. But he wasn’t. Foster
was nowhere to be seen, and the erstwhile almost customers were gone, as well. He

wondered how much money he might have lost by abandoning his post for the
afternoon. Didn’t matter, he supposed. Things had slowed down a little, anyway. He’d

either make up the lost income or he wouldn’t. Right now he didn’t care.

Elizabeth Jewell

Sex and Chocolate: The Chocolatier

The hotel wasn’t far, so he drove there, but when he asked the front desk to ring

Foster’s room, they got no answer. He considered asking them to try again, then

decided not to bother. Instead he went back out to his car and drove home.

He felt sick. No, not really sick, just tired. Tired from the emotion that had been

wrenching through him for the last several days. Tired from walking. Just tired. He’d
done the same thing Rob had. He’d gotten scared, and he’d run away. He’d just made it

sound more logical in his own head. At the root, it was the same chicken-shit move as
destroying a barely-started marriage.

There wasn’t much he could do other than what he’d told Rob to do. Go to

Foster, apologize, and hope for the best.

He noticed the car in his driveway several yards before he reached the house. His

heart leapt into his throat. Foster was sitting in the front seat. As Perry pulled into the

drive next to him, Foster got out of the car and leaned against it, waiting.

“Hey,” said Perry.

“Hey,” Foster answered.
“You wanna go inside?”

“Yeah.”
They went in. Perry said nothing, not sure where to start. Foster honored his

silence until Perry had pulled two beers out of the fridge. Then he turned to Perry and
said, “I love you,” which surprised Perry, because he said exactly the same thing in the

same breath.

They were silent for a moment, looking at each other. Then Foster smiled and,

slowly, withdrew something from the inside pocket of his jacket. He laid it on the
kitchen island.

Perry looked down at it and he, too, smiled. It was the chocolate penis, intact,

still wrapped in its cellophane.

“I really do,” Foster said. “I really, really do.”
Looking up, Perry met Foster’s gaze. “Me, too.”

The moment lasted until it began to feel awkward, then Foster broke it.

Elizabeth Jewell

Sex and Chocolate: The Chocolatier

“I can tell it’s yours, you know.” Foster’s smug grin made Perry’s face go hot.

Nice. Blushing at his age. He was sure it was quite the excellent look on him.

“You can?”
Foster chuckled. “Only because I’ve seen yours up close and personal-like.” He

paused, and Perry could tell from the look in his eyes that the pause was calculated.
“Don’t worry. I’m sure none of the nubile ladies at the bachelorette party could tell.”

Perry hadn’t thought he could blush any harder without spontaneously

combusting, but apparently he could, because the temperature of his already hot face

rose another ten degrees. “Asshole.”

“Familiar with that, too.” Foster leaned forward to catch Perry’s mouth with his.

“This chocolate dick has caused nothing but trouble, hasn’t it?”

“I suppose it has.” He licked his lips, tasting Foster on them. “Maybe we should

eat it?”

“Or…” Foster’s eyes narrowed, and he brought a hand up to brush his fingers

down the side of Perry’s face. “I’d really like to fuck you with it.”

The thought made Perry close his eyes. It was too much even to contemplate.

“That hardly seems hygienic.”

Foster picked up the chocolate and turned it, giving it an evaluating once-over.

“There are other things I could do with it, too.”

“You could, you know, eat it.” He opened his eyes again. As he’d expected,

Foster was looking at him with the kind of wickedness in his eyes usually only seen in
paintings of ancient Greek fertility gods.

“I could,” said Foster, “but that would be… expected.” Eyes glued to Perry’s, he

took the blue ribbon between his teeth and pulled, untying the bow. Perry shivered.

Foster eased the rest of the cellophane off, then tilted the chocolate toward Perry’s
mouth, letting the carefully rounded tip rest against his lips. “Have a taste?”

“As much as I’d love to be able to suck my own cock…” Perry trailed off. He

could almost taste the chocolate -- he could definitely smell it. The rich, dark smell set

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Sex and Chocolate: The Chocolatier

his mouth watering. Or maybe it was Foster who had that effect on him. It was hard to
say, at this point.

Foster chuckled, then tilted the chocolate back toward his own mouth. His

tongue poked teasingly between his lips, and he gently licked the end of the chocolate

penis. The caress was barely enough to disturb the smooth surface of the chocolate, but
Perry shivered, imagining Foster’s tongue on his own skin.

“It really is too pretty to eat,” Foster murmured.
“I can make another one,” said Perry. “I can make a lot of other ones.”

“I like the way you think.” He licked the penis again, reflectively this time, then

said, “Get up on the counter.”

Perry did as he was told, having no inclination to argue. He doubted there was

much likelihood following Foster’s orders would result in anything less than highly

entertaining.

As he settled on the counter, Foster moved between his thighs. Holding the

chocolate penis between his teeth by the stick, Foster unfastened the buttons on Perry’s
shirt and pushed it back over his shoulders and off him. The buttons made a soft “tink”

as they struck the Formica counter.

Grinning around the cardboard lollipop stick in his mouth, Foster pressed the tip

of the chocolate penis against Perry’s nipple. Perry looked down. The chocolate, slightly
moistened by Foster’s tongue, smeared over his skin, leaving a dark mark across the

flat, pink nub. Fire shot to his groin like a needle piercing his skin. He let out a soft,
involuntary sound.

Foster seemed to like that reaction. He smiled again, then bit his lower lip,

making him look even more delectable. Perry hadn’t thought that was possible.

Glancing into Perry’s eyes, Foster gauged the other man’s reaction, then traced the
chocolate across his other nipple.

“Ngh,” said Perry, which he was fairly certain wasn’t a real word.

Elizabeth Jewell

Sex and Chocolate: The Chocolatier

“You betcha,” Foster answered. He bent to lick chocolate off first one nipple, then

the other. As he straightened again, his hips slid firmly between Perry’s thighs, the

obvious bulge in his jeans pressing against the older man’s inseam.

Perry could feel the hard line of Foster’s erection rubbing into him. Then his

concentration wandered again when Foster pressed the chocolate dick against Perry’s
mouth. “Suck it,” said Foster. “Suck it like you’re sucking me.”

There was no room for thought. Perry’s mouth went slack, and the slim,

chocolate phallus slipped inside.

Rick, thick, dark chocolate coated his tongue, the flavor nearly as sexual as the

shape that invaded his mouth. He swallowed automatically, and as he did a sudden,

intense warmth bloomed in his chest. Focusing again on Foster, he saw the other man as
if outlined in gold. The image didn’t register in his vision so much as reflect behind it, a

warm glow behind his eyes.

Was this what was it was like? That first view of your true love? Or had the fact

they’d already emotionally bonded made it different from the young almost-lovers who
ate his chocolate at weddings? There was no way to know. But he could tell by a slight

shift in Foster’s face that he saw it -- or sensed it -- too. The mischief fled from his face,
the smile softening into seriousness. He kissed Perry’s mouth, next to where the

chocolate protruded, and Perry tasted cocoa and Foster together on his tongue.

He’d never tasted anything better.

The encounter suddenly shifted from playful to intense, transformed by the

unexpectedly profound feeling the chocolate left behind. Foster pressed it harder into

Perry’s mouth, harder and faster, as if Perry really were performing fellatio on his
partner. The sounds that began to fall from Foster’s lips made Perry wonder if the

sensation of his tongue on the chocolate were actually being transmitted directly to
Foster’s real-life cock.

He hoped Foster’s dick wasn’t shrinking, though. The one inside his mouth

certainly was. Foster’s didn’t seem to be, though -- the hard lump thrusting against

Perry’s crotch was, if anything, getting bigger. The chocolate pulsed past his lips in a

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Sex and Chocolate: The Chocolatier

matching rhythm, until suddenly Foster let out a strange, choked noise, and, inside
Perry’s mouth, the chocolate dick broke in half.

“Shit,” said Perry, for a moment almost forgetting he wasn’t sucking an actual

dick. The chocolate shifted in his mouth, melting even more, and he swallowed it.

Foster clutched at him, hand closing hard on Perry’s shoulder.

“That was so not the plan,” Foster ground out. Perry looked down. The hard

ridge that had been tormenting him had all but disappeared, and Foster’s jeans were
conspicuously wet.

Perry chuckled, but wished he hadn’t when he looked back up to see Foster’s

face coloring. He stroked a hand into Foster’s hair. “I think we can work up an

alternative plan.”

“There is that.”

Perry slid down from the counter, unfastening his jeans as he moved. They fell to

his ankles when his feet met the floor, and he toed off his shoes and stepped out of them

as well as the jeans. The whole maneuver was quite smooth, if he did say so himself.
Though at his age, if he couldn’t disrobe gracefully, he was in a world of hurt on the

sexual front.

Foster, still seeming a little disoriented by his accident, didn’t protest as Perry

grasped him by the hips and turned him to face the kitchen counter. Perry reached
around to undo the younger man’s jeans, and soon they, too, were on the floor.

“Good alternate plan,” said Foster, breathless. Perry grinned and let his hard,

bare cock slide between Foster’s ass cheeks, then between his upper thighs.

“I don’t keep lube in the kitchen,” he said apologetically, kissing the back of

Foster’s shoulder. “Should I go get some?”

“No.” Foster sounded as if he could barely force the word out. “Use your

imagination.”

Perry nodded. He could do that. He had a fairly inventive imagination, as it

happened. In fact, it presented him almost immediately with several options for handy

kitchen lube. He considered them all and dismissed them. All of them involved moving

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Sex and Chocolate: The Chocolatier

away from Foster to fetch something, and he just wasn’t happy with that course of
action. Instead, he slid his cock again between Foster’s upper thighs, parting his ass

cheeks with one hand to thumb his entrance carefully.

Foster moaned. Perry figured from the sound of it that he must be doing

something right. He shifted his hips a little and thrust in earnest, his cock sliding along
Foster’s perineum and pressing the backs of his balls on every stroke while he rimmed

Foster with his thumb and fingers.

“God,” said Foster. “Holy fucking God.”

Perry kissed his shoulder again. “You have a nasty mouth. I like that in a man.”
It was the last thing he managed to say before, suddenly, a clenching grabbed his

lower belly and balls, and he found himself straining against Foster’s back, mouth
against his shoulder, spilling on the other man’s thighs and testicles. Probably on the

kitchen counter too. Not exactly appetizing, but that was what they made tile cleaner
for.

“Shit,” he finally managed.
Foster, his chuckle a little strained, reached back to clutch Perry’s hip, then

turned around and kissed him full on the mouth. “Mmm. Chocolate,” he said.

“Did you really expect anything else?”

“No, I can’t say I did.”
They stood quietly in each other’s arms, Perry gently stroking Foster’s back. The

questions, the decisions -- all that could wait. For now, they had everything they
needed, everything that was important.

Love was a fucking miracle.

Elizabeth Jewell

Elizabeth Jewell is the author of a growing collection of paranormal and

contemporary erotic novels and novellas. She’s been writing since before she could
read, and has given in to the fact that she’s completely addicted to the process of

composing fiction -- especially hot, steamy, paranormal fiction. Elizabeth lives in
Colorado with her kids, a ridiculous dog and Percy the Hedgehog.

You can visit her website at http://elizabethjewell.kabeka.com and read her blog

at http://elizabethjewell.blogspot.com.