by Jacqueline Applebee
(08/05/09)

Brown swirls of heaven swam across my vision. Dark chocolate smells rose to meet me. The warm scents of melting confection filled my kitchen, seeped into my skirt and my blouse. I stood over the double-boiler, stirring the mixture, patiently and then not so patiently waiting for the little brown chips of dairy-free chocolate to fall apart, to join the rest of the heavenly creation in my bowl. My mouth watered -- the urge to stick my fingers into the dish was fierce indeed. I stepped back a little. I could be good. I knew how to behave myself.

I heard my girlfriend, Heather come home even before I felt a draft of cold air hit me. I sheltered the chocolate from the sudden change in temperature, placing myself in front of the old gas cooker. The blue flame flickered but I didn't miss a beat.

Heather stomped into the kitchen. From the corner of my eye, I saw her fling her beaten-up rucksack onto the table. I knew her bag would be full of law books, of texts and cases that she would need as a trade union representative.

"Take your bag off there," I called out, already annoyed. Heather reached back, dragged the bag onto the floor, knocking my tub of cocoa powder with it. A small bloom of brown powder exploded on the linoleum floor.

"Shit!" Heather pulled off her scarf, making a move to clean it up.

"Use the dustpan."

"Jesus!" she yelled. "This is just what I need."

"What's wrong?" I asked.

Heather scooted behind me, wrapping her arms around my waist. She muttered something into my shoulder, and kissed the back of my neck. I could feel the cotton of her shirt and the smooth texture of her silk tie as she hugged me. Her murmurs sounded like a string of swear words, though thankfully, I wasn't able to make out any of them. I switched off the heat, turned and placed the bowl of molten chocolate onto the table.

"I just heard from Josephine, the silly bint I'm representing at work. They've set a date for her disciplinary hearing, stupid shitwads." I cringed as Heather ranted. If words could curdle milk, then my potty-mouthed girlfriend was a danger to cows everywhere. Heather swears when she's angry, she swears when she's horny, she swears when we have company and when we are alone. I've tried to ignore it over the two years that we've been together, but sometimes it's hard work. "What makes me really pissed," Heather continued, with her voice rising in pitch, "Is the way that the wankers in Human bleeding Resources think they're so bloody important. They don't care about Josephine at all, even if she is a dumb-ass." I passed the bowl of chocolate to Heather, and she took it absently.

"Keep stirring," I said. Heather began to whisk the chocolate frantically. I placed my hand over hers, slowed down the pace. She looked up at me, smiled, and kissed me. Our hands kept moving but I stepped away first. There would be plenty of time for that later.

"Stupid cunts don't know what's important," she mumbled to herself as her hands sped up once more. I sighed. My head began to hurt. I went to the refrigerator, removed a small jug of cashew nuts that were soaking in water. The nuts had swollen and split as they had absorbed the liquid. I felt as if my brain must be going the same way. I moved back to the kitchen counter, plugged in a stick blender, and then whizzed up the nuts until they became a smooth creamy consistency. Heather continued to talk and swear whilst the motor whirred noisily. I tried to think calm thoughts.

"What's that in there?" Heather peered into my jug, sniffing at the contents. Some of the mixture slid off the blender and landed on her cheek, a white smear on her pale brown skin, but she didn't seem to notice.

"This is cashew cream. It replaces the dairy cream that I would usually make chocolate truffles with." I was quite proud of finding a recipe like this. Heather is allergic to milk, so she usually has to miss out on sweet treats.

"You mean these truffles will be vegan?" she said with a gasp. "I can actually eat the little fuckers?" I nodded. "Bloody brilliant!" she exclaimed. She dipped her finger into the bowl and tasted the mixture. "A bit plain, isn't it?" she said, pulling a face.

I snatched the jug from her, and then stirred the cashew cream into the waiting chocolate. The mixture went grainy for a moment, but then it became thick, smooth and glossy.

"I'm sorry, Nancy," Heather spoke into my hair. "I really appreciate this. You're too good to an old tart like me."

I sprinkled some ground cardamom into the mixture -- the warm spicy notes were sweet and light. Some finely shredded orange peel went in next. I hoped that the flavours would be heavenly.

"Oh that smells good," Heather crooned. "I bet it tastes a damn sight better now you've livened it up." Heather took the spoon from me. She drew it across my lips. "Open up, Nancy," she commanded in a powerful voice she saves for special times like these. I sighed as she tapped the metal spoon against my teeth. I loved Heather for her mouth -- not for all the dirty cuss words that came out of it, but for the way she could make me melt with a few simple directions.

Her fingers flicked open the buttons of my blouse. She pulled it open roughly, and then smeared some of the truffle mixture over my cleavage with the back of the spoon. The glossy chocolate was still warm, and it slid down slowly into the cups of my bra. "Dirty girl, aren't you?" I nodded because she was so very right. Heather's free hand held onto my hair with a solid grip. She pushed my bra up over my breasts, exposing me so that my big pink nipples stuck out beneath the lace edge. "You're a slut," she whispered. "You're my slut." She dribbled some of the chocolate over each nipple, and then bent to lick one. She sucked hard on me, making me arch up against her.

"Now you lick the other," she ordered. I looked at her. My tits are big, but they're not that huge; there was no way I could get them in my mouth. "What the fuck are you waiting for?" she asked angrily, her voice a growl.

"I can't," I pleaded, desperately pushing up at my own breasts. It was a useless cause, and she knew it, because she smirked at me.

"Well then," she said, with a yank to my hair, "You'll have to suck it off me like the well behaved little whore you are." She pulled her formal shirt off, but left her tie in place. Heather liked to keep at least one item of men's clothing on regardless of what else she wore. The bright red tie swung to and fro as she moved. She took a spoonful of chocolate, and drizzled it over her belly.

"Kneel."

I was on my knees so fast, that I heard the thump when I hit the hard kitchen floor. She kept hold of my hair as I licked and sucked every drop of sweet confection from her skin. My face was covered in chocolate, I could smell the orange the cardamom, and Heather's sweat, her fragrance that was sweeter than any treat I could make. When I was done she pulled me up by my hair --every yank was bliss that went like a jolt to my clitoris.

"Get on the table," she ordered with a flick of her head, and then she put the bowl of chocolate down. I knelt on my hands and knees, balanced on the rickety kitchen table, surrounded by spices and spilt cocoa powder. Heather rummaged around behind me. I could hear the drawers being opened as she searched for something. She bent over me and waved a long wooden spoon in front of my eyes. She ran the utensil over my face, tapping it lightly on my forehead. This was as much warning as I was likely to get, but I didn't need it. I wanted to feel it instead.

The first whack to my bottom made me shudder. The thick handle of the spoon was like a burning line of pleasure over my backside. My skin broke out in goosebumps, I could feel the change. I arched up for more. Heather struck my wriggling bottom with the spoon quickly, barely giving me time to breathe out after each blow before the next one would fall. She alternated between my ass-cheeks, silently striking me, using all of her strength to make me feel so soft and tender. As she continued, I began to grunt every time I felt the spoon on my skin. I needed more, wanted to feel a different kind of sensation from my crotch. I bit my lip even though I wanted to cry out, to beg Heather to screw me. I was desperate.

Heather stopped the beating. She threw down the spoon noisily, making me jump slightly. She must have noticed how wet I was or maybe she noticed my scent, the musky fragrance of sex that overpowered the sweet spices from earlier. I looked over my shoulder as Heather washed her hands in the sink, rinsing all traces of chocolate away.

"You know, Nancy, there's an old Caribbean saying that goes, 'Two women in a kitchen is like having two volcanoes on one island.' Do you believe that shit?" Two of Heather's fingers pushed inside me with a brutal shove. "What kind of bollocks is that?" I wholeheartedly agreed with her. I panted like a horse as she worked another finger into me. I was so wet -- I could hear the squishing noises of my own pussy as she pumped slow and deep. My tits wobbled as she screwed me; my breast that was still covered in chocolate knocked a bowl of sugar over. The white crystals decorated my skin like frosting on a cake. My clit swelled, and Heather's thumb rubbed on it like she had just read my mind, circling and stroking until I yelled. My arms gave out as I came, and I collapsed onto the table, sweeping all the remaining ingredients onto the floor with a crash.

Heather gently pulled out of me. She trailed her hand over the table as she walked around to where my head rested on a small mound of orange zest. I could see the sticky streaks that her fingers made on the table surface as she moved. She placed them to my lips, and I cleaned her, licking myself off her. My salty juices mixed with the sweet chocolate that still lay on my tongue made a surprisingly delicious combination.

Heather gazed into my eyes. She looked strangely shy, given what we had just done, and then she carefully helped me down. My legs were wobbly but that wasn't the reason why I held her tight and hugged her. She was just so beautiful, no matter how dishevelled she looked, with her tie stained with what I suspected was my own come. I loved what she did to me. I loved my filthy-mouthed girlfriend. I kissed her, passing the unique chocolate flavour to her with a sweep of my tongue.

"We should make truffles more often, don't you think?" she asked as she dipped her fingers into the half-empty bowl of gloop.

"Fuck, yeah," I said with a smile. "I'll make some more tomorrow."

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