“Coconut Kiss,” she said and handed me a gold-wrapped orb the size of a golf ball. Real gold. If I had known that and that the value of the contents far outweighed the delicate, shiny wrapper, I might have hesitated before embarking on this journey. But I was young and reckless and tore away the precious metal with a careless flourish. Even as my nails had penetrated the sealed chamber within, a waft of sweet coconut perfume had escaped to fill the room, and now as I laid bare the second layer of wrapping, oiled silk clinging to an unknown centre, it reached out to me with a thousand complex fragrances.
I gasped, stopped for a moment, unused to such powerful experiences, but in a moment I was drawn back in to the task at hand, now nervous fingers pealing away the glistening silk. Spreading it out on the bed of gold, I uncovered the beautiful, moist, white-flecked centre. Damp clumps of excess shredded coconut fell away as I lifted the bite-sized ball in awe, my rough, unworthy lips parting in anticipation, and dog that I was, I popped it in in a single mouthful.
Immediately, my world changed. Coconut splendour pulsed out from the majestic snowball, filling every cavity of my mouth with craving. But I was strong, savouring the moment, not biting yet, but letting the essence of the sweetmeat pervade my being. My eyes closed, pushing away the distractions of the outer world, allowing me to linger in my observation of the tender excitement growing within me. At last I could hold on no longer. Teeth crunching through the myriad of carefully crafted layers, I released the beast within to ravish the morsel I had been blessed with. I was not prepared for what came next.
Rocking gently back and forth, I moaned as the Kiss took control of my body, filling me with a sweetness unbearable, yet unresistible, as liquid sugars oozed from between crunchy wafers and white chocolates – four different at least – swam among exotic desert island flavourings. Nothing, absolutely nothing in the world of chocolates compared with that moment.
Don’t get me wrong, I love me some Raffaello, but those dry, flaky balls paled in comparison to this archetype of coconut chocolates. I was unworthy, but every bite released a thousand tender caresses, each informing me there was none more deserving than I, causing me to tear up. The angels wept and I with them, shiny drops of happiness streaking down my cheeks.
I swallowed the last morsel and breathing heavily, looked up at my partner, trying to take in what she had just given me. She was smiling.
And then we spent the rest of the week eating chocolates just like that one.
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This story was written for the Prague Writers Group Challenge.
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