I hear the squeak of the opening door behind me, and turn on an instinct.
Our eyes meet as he walks towards me
Pulling me into his loving embrace
I feel the warmth of his touch
As he gently presses me against the wall
His hands squeeze my waist
Leaning in for a kiss
His lips touch mine
They are smooth and bittersweet
The Chocolatier is full of mysteries,
His love for me being the biggest.
His chocolate kisses and honeyed tones are addictive
Intoxicating, like his scent.
He is an addiction.
Like any addiction, it began slowly but surely.
Those first initial, hesitant touches,
A brush of the hand,
A stroke of the arm,
Growing into something more every day.
What's one more going to hurt?
It is an addiction that I do not want to give up.
His gentle touches are so sweet, so tender.
I just hope no one finds out.
Especially my son.
And my wife.