Licking your lips seductively, you trail your tongue oh so slowly from left to right, a satisfied look settling over your face that borders on sated. It's a taste like no other: success, power and control all in one sweet mouthful and you know that the tang that rests in the back of your throat is worth the effort. There's nothing quite like it to ease the pain of a truly awful day, it's pleasure all around really, no harm done. The sighs echoing around the half lit room reflecting the waves of pleasure you feel as you swallow, taking your time, savouring every last drop. You know it won't be long until the guilt sets in so for the meantime you bask in the moment, feelings of contentment floating round the room, warming the cold clinical air you've become so accustomed to. The warmth is always a pleasure to embrace before it fleetingly passes and the cold reality of what you've done sets in. You're not there yet though, for now it's all satisfied smiles, a whisper of "you're amazing" floating around the room but you're too tired to pluck it from the air. The last few minutes become muddled in your mind, the smell of it all overpowering you and for a moment you're not sure if your tongue is still revelling in the solid sweetness or if you're collapsed against the chair, revelling in memories. Either way the taste still hesitates, the smack of your lips playing around your mind. This is the bit you love the most, the lingering aftertaste of it all deep inside your mouth, the taste that got lost, hanging gently around you, a warm glow enveloping you in it's caress.
You're never entirely sure where the groan of pleasure came from but you know it was there, it sticks in your mind replaying itself again and again and again: the soundtrack to your evening, titled satisfaction. And there's no doubt that for now, you're satisfied. The weight in your mouth shrunk back to nothing you feel it's absence and you know it's not long until the guilt sets in. You make the most of the sensation, lifting your tongue once more to your lips removing all traces of having done what you really shouldn't. A wicked indulgence; you can't help thinking it's worth the aftermath every time.
Until lipstick well and truly rubbed off, your actions begin to sink in.
Questionable.
Foolhardy.
Stupid.
In short, what the hell were you thinking? It'll only ever end in tears.
You let out a low "Fuck," looking at the back of the wrapper.
325 calories in one sodding chocolate bar.