He follows me in…
“Now you just barge into my office, too?”…
“Who are you?”…
“My name is Caramel”…
“Just Caramel?”…
“As in the sweet gooey sticky stuff?”…
“Yeah, just like that,” I laugh now…
“All I wanted to tell you was that your meal was wonderful”…
“I felt inspired somehow, fulfilled somehow and compelled to tell you”…
“It was almost orgasmic”…
I look down, because I can’t bear to look him in the eye…
He grabs my chin and pushes it up so he can see my face…
He’s quiet and curious as he looks at me…
“Thank you for the compliment,” he states sincerely…
“If everyone felt the way you did about my cooking, I would feel fulfilled in my calling every time I created a meal”…
Pauses…
Steps back, checks me out, and steps forward again…
“Caramel, your face is as sweet as your name”…
I blush…
“I’m sorry I created a scene in your kitchen. I can be relentless when I’m driven to do something.”…
“As can I,” he says softly…
Steps toward me…
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