hog right into the massive oak.
Bike and rider exploded on impact with the old dead tree, yet nothing lit up the sky, no loud whoosh or roar shattered the quiet.
The night stayed silent as the grave. Crunched Harley and torn bikers simply winked out and disappeared. Forgotten ghosts. Again. Break Neck Hill had fed and grown quiet. Sleeping. Waiting.
THE CHOCOLATIER
I visited The Chocolatier with a perfectly innocent goal in mind, to begin with-
that of selecting the perfect birthday gift for my lover, Danielle. We both enjoy handmade chocolates and The Chocolatier was new in town. I’d read about the shop and its French owner, Alain Osanne, in the local paper, and figured that chocolates would make an ideal gift. Soon, however, it was The Chocolatier himself that captured my attention, because when he looked at me through his shop window I thought about sex-sex that was dark, delicious and decadent, much like the chocolates in the display. If Dani were there she would also be revving her engines for the hot Frenchman, and that made me smile. Occasionally a man caught our fancy. Bisexual and dedicated to each other, from time to time we shared a male lover. This man had caught my attention, and Dani would like him too, I was sure of it.
The scrolled letters on the sign outside the shop looked like hand decorated icing on fondant. It was decorative but simple, to the point, and incredibly seductive. I was peering in when I saw him working inside the shop, and an attractive profile he made.
Good looking in a sleek and androgynous way, his black, shoulder-length hair was secured at his nape while he worked. His eyes were like the chocolates he had placed in the windows, molten brown, filled with rich, sensual suggestion. He was tall and lean, despite working in the devil’s own calorie exchange, and he was dark skinned, like a Romany gypsy. The white chef’s uniform he wore only seemed to emphasize his looks and his high cheekbones and sculpted lips added to the unusual appeal.
Just as I was admiring the view, he walked toward me and put a small tray of heart shaped dark chocolate in the window. They were decorated with a cupid’s arrow, 117
perfect for Dani’s gift. But my attention was soon back on the man himself. He certainly wasn’t the sort of man you usually found stocking a window display in a small village in the Kent countryside.
As if he sensed my presence, he looked up and met my gaze through the window. My breath caught. There was such intensity in his stare that I was thrown off guard and smiled. Inclining his head he gave a slight bow, one hand touching his chest lightly, a rather old fashioned gesture, I thought, which, combined with his looks, brought to mind images of iconic passion-the tango, a wild gypsy-hearted dancer who was relentless in pursuit of his sweetheart.
How odd, to discover such a man in our sleepy little village. Usually, the best we could hope for was a passing tourist or a randy farmer who wasn’t adverse to women who mostly preferred other women. Dani would adore the idea of such a find. With that in mind, how could I resist investigating further?
The door chimed as I opened it, a bell over head announcing my arrival.
He appeared from the preparation area almost immediately, strolling out to meet me. “
“
“Your lover.” He repeated that deliberately, and then cocked his head on one side, as if he was trying to guess what my lover was like. “Does he prefer dark or light chocolate?”
“She…she prefers dark chocolate, mostly.”
“Ah.” His wide, sensual mouth moved in an appreciative smile. His stare was blatant, and rather than disapproving-which was the kind of thing Dani and I had been used to in the small, conservative village we chose to live in-it was filled with curiosity and admiration. “I see. She is a sensuous sort of a woman, your lover?”
“How astute of you to guess.” I couldn't withhold my smile. Dani would love that.
She’d also love his attentive nature. We were committed to one another, lovers and partners for over five years, but as bisexual women we had agreed to share our thoughts and emotions about men-thoughts on them as companions, as lovers. And Dani would respond to this man, I was sure of it.
His gaze was appraising as it raked me from head to toe, making my skin warm in response. It was if he knew what I was thinking, and the way he was looking at me turned me on. I ran one hand over the other, clutching my tote bag against me, self aware in the extreme.
“Her birthday is today?”
“Saturday.”
“That’s even better. Why don’t you bring her in around closing time, and we’ll give her a private tasting. With everything on offer.” He waved his hand over the chocolates on display in the cabinets, but maintained eye contact in such a way that I couldn’t break the spell. Was I imagining the erotic undertow I felt in his statement, the suggestion of something that was more than the offer of an exclusive chocolate tasting?
His voice was low and husky, and his tone was growing ever more intimate. I tried to focus. Whether that part of it was my imagination or not, an exclusive chocolate tasting session with Monsieur Alain was way beyond acceptable as a birthday gift.
“She can luxuriate in the experience, and you will find out which combination of flavors she likes best, for your next visit.”
I wasn’t imagining it. “That’s a wonderful idea. How much does it cost?”
He shrugged. “Whatever you were going to spend on a selection today.”
“Are you sure?”
He paused before replying, and then his mouth lifted at one corner. “There's only so much chocolate two lovers can eat.”
My heart beat erratically. I definitely didn’t imagine the way he looked at me when he said that-as if he was imagining eating something entirely different to a box of chocolates. His heavily-fringed eyelids dropped as his gaze lingered around my hips. I latched one finger over the belt on my low-slung hipster jeans and wondered if he could see the tattoo I had on my hip.
“I see you are a fan of body art.” He nodded at my tattoo, then went behind the counter and opened a drawer. Lifting out a portfolio of photographs, he flicked through them and lifted one image out, setting it on the glass countertop so that I could see it.
“Perhaps you will like this?”
“Oh, my.” The image took my breath away. It was a naked woman, and her body was covered in an intricate scrollwork design, fine art-nouveau swirls that were both decorative and sensual. She was seated on a shiny black seat with a back drop of red velvet curtains. The whole image was about sensuality. The woman had one arm lifted to push her hair up against her head. Her eyelids were lowered, her lips parted.
Sexually aroused, that’s how she looked. At first I thought it was a tattoo, then I realized-it was chocolate. A design in chocolate body paint. No wonder she looked aroused. “That’s incredible.”
“You think your partner would like it?”
“Dani? Oh yes, she’d love it. Is this your girlfriend?”
“No, a friend in France. The design was for her boyfriend. They shared the pleasure of the chocolate after the photograph was taken…”
I inhaled, realizing why he was showing it to me. It was a suggestion. “Yes, Dani would like it.” I dared to meet his gaze, and when I did it made my body brim with expectation. “She’d like it a lot.”
He smiled knowingly, and then he lifted a tray from the counter top and offered it to me. “Please show me
