the chocolates up – for example, Nutty Cluster meets Strawberry Cream, or Brandy Truffle fancies Nougat Parfait.’
‘Stella,’ Eric said, sinking down on to the sofa and stretching out his still sopping legs. ‘I’ve read the book you gave me, faithfully from start to finish; I’ve signed up for three more dating-sites, and I’ve spent bloody hours on Facebook, but I’m sorry – I absolutely draw the line at “Choc-a-Love”.’
chapter five
‘Chocolate,’ breathed Yvette, lowering her voice to a provocatively sexy purr, ‘has been celebrated as an aphrodisiac for more than fifteen hundred years.’
Eric shifted in his seat. It wasn’t an aphrodisiac he needed. Just the sight of all those women sitting in the audience was enough to turn him on. In fact, Yvette was pretty fanciable herself. His seat, just a few rows from the podium, was affording him a gratifying view of her truly voluptuous curves.
‘The last of the Aztec emperors, Montezuma, drank fifty golden goblets of chocolate every single day, to enhance his sexual powers. And, from all accounts, those powers were pretty legendary.’
He couldn’t have had a job, then, Eric thought. Today, the library had been so busy, he’d barely had time to snatch one cup of coffee, let alone devour fifty goblets of anything.
‘And when chocolate spread to Europe,’ Yvette continued, as a colour map displayed itself on the large PowerPoint screen behind her, ‘it proved no less potent an aid to sex. The great lover, Casanova, called chocolate “the elixir of love” and always made sure he consumed it before bedding his many conquests.’
Eric closed his eyes a second; imagined himself servicing a whole string of willing conquests, pausing only to gulp yet another quart of chocolate.
‘And do you know’ – Yvette paused dramatically, her eyes roving round the room, to ensure everyone was listening – ‘recent scientific research actually supports those claims. Chocolate contains highly complex substances that produce the same effects we associate with passion, high libido and being head-over-heels in love.’
Eric gazed at the succession of pictures now flashing up on-screen. Clearly he’d missed a trick or two living on baked beans, instead of chocolate bars. Although these chocolates were in a different league from any hehad ever seen: each one a work of art; some patterned with scrolls or shells in shimmering gold leaf; others studded with pistachio nuts or tiny pieces of crystallized fruit. Some were even shaped like miniature coffee-cups, complete with chocolate handles, and filled with different coloured layers, although all the colours were subtle – nothing vulgar or over-bright. And most of the chocolate itself was determinedly, stylishly dark. On no account must he admit that he much preferred milk chocolate, let alone that he had a yen for Milky Bar. Apparently, white chocolate wasn’t chocolate at all, or so he had learned this evening.
‘Not only that – chocolate is good for our health. It lowers blood-pressure , reduces our risk of heart-attack, improves our brain power and is even effective as a cough medicine.’
Which, reflected Eric, made it all the more ironic that Stella wasn’t here. Just this morning, she had gone down with bronchitis, and had rung to say she was coughing like a consumptive and couldn’t come in to work, let alone join him for this evening’s ‘Choc-a-Love’. He had immediately tried to chicken out himself (having agreed to come solely for her sake, and only after endless persuasion), but again she’d overruled him; insisted that he go, so that he could give her a full account of the proceedings.
Now, he was actually relieved that he had let her twist his arm. Having done a speedy head-count (thirty-nine women to seventeen men) he had realized that, statistically, his chances were pretty good. Admittedly, the organizers had promised to balance the numbers for the chocolate dating proper, this
‘Stella,’ Eric said, sinking down on to the sofa and stretching out his still sopping legs. ‘I’ve read the book you gave me, faithfully from start to finish; I’ve signed up for three more dating-sites, and I’ve spent bloody hours on Facebook, but I’m sorry – I absolutely draw the line at “Choc-a-Love”.’
chapter five
‘Chocolate,’ breathed Yvette, lowering her voice to a provocatively sexy purr, ‘has been celebrated as an aphrodisiac for more than fifteen hundred years.’
Eric shifted in his seat. It wasn’t an aphrodisiac he needed. Just the sight of all those women sitting in the audience was enough to turn him on. In fact, Yvette was pretty fanciable herself. His seat, just a few rows from the podium, was affording him a gratifying view of her truly voluptuous curves.
‘The last of the Aztec emperors, Montezuma, drank fifty golden goblets of chocolate every single day, to enhance his sexual powers. And, from all accounts, those powers were pretty legendary.’
He couldn’t have had a job, then, Eric thought. Today, the library had been so busy, he’d barely had time to snatch one cup of coffee, let alone devour fifty goblets of anything.
‘And when chocolate spread to Europe,’ Yvette continued, as a colour map displayed itself on the large PowerPoint screen behind her, ‘it proved no less potent an aid to sex. The great lover, Casanova, called chocolate “the elixir of love” and always made sure he consumed it before bedding his many conquests.’
Eric closed his eyes a second; imagined himself servicing a whole string of willing conquests, pausing only to gulp yet another quart of chocolate.
‘And do you know’ – Yvette paused dramatically, her eyes roving round the room, to ensure everyone was listening – ‘recent scientific research actually supports those claims. Chocolate contains highly complex substances that produce the same effects we associate with passion, high libido and being head-over-heels in love.’
Eric gazed at the succession of pictures now flashing up on-screen. Clearly he’d missed a trick or two living on baked beans, instead of chocolate bars. Although these chocolates were in a different league from any hehad ever seen: each one a work of art; some patterned with scrolls or shells in shimmering gold leaf; others studded with pistachio nuts or tiny pieces of crystallized fruit. Some were even shaped like miniature coffee-cups, complete with chocolate handles, and filled with different coloured layers, although all the colours were subtle – nothing vulgar or over-bright. And most of the chocolate itself was determinedly, stylishly dark. On no account must he admit that he much preferred milk chocolate, let alone that he had a yen for Milky Bar. Apparently, white chocolate wasn’t chocolate at all, or so he had learned this evening.
‘Not only that – chocolate is good for our health. It lowers blood-pressure , reduces our risk of heart-attack, improves our brain power and is even effective as a cough medicine.’
Which, reflected Eric, made it all the more ironic that Stella wasn’t here. Just this morning, she had gone down with bronchitis, and had rung to say she was coughing like a consumptive and couldn’t come in to work, let alone join him for this evening’s ‘Choc-a-Love’. He had immediately tried to chicken out himself (having agreed to come solely for her sake, and only after endless persuasion), but again she’d overruled him; insisted that he go, so that he could give her a full account of the proceedings.
Now, he was actually relieved that he had let her twist his arm. Having done a speedy head-count (thirty-nine women to seventeen men) he had realized that, statistically, his chances were pretty good. Admittedly, the organizers had promised to balance the numbers for the chocolate dating proper, this
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