Krystyn grinned and said mischievously, “Well, then…If you’re not staying for dinner, do you think you’d have time to indulge yourself with a lovely, juicy cherry for the few minutes you have remaining to you? I think you’d find the experience both sweet and slightly intoxicating! I’ve grown to savor the delights that Flemish women have created by blending French and German concepts in self-indulgence. So much so, that I find my day is incomplete unless I partake of their sensual pleasures at least once a day! Although I try to ration myself, I often find myself with an irresistible craving that simply can’t be ignored!”
Andrew choked and practically swallowed his tongue in astonishment. Was she implying what he’d thought, or had he completely misinterpreted she’d said? Was she offering him…No, he must have misunderstood. His manhood rose to the seductive siren call of a beautiful woman who seemed to be intimating that she wished to lay with him, despite his mental confusion over the offer. “Well? Cat got your tongue?”, she asked with a huge grin at her sexually-loaded wordplay as she picked up a large sterling silver box from the coffee table and opened it, “Are you sure you won’t have one of my chocolate-covered cherries? They’re French Burgundy cherries laced with German Kirsch and covered in the finest Belgian Dark Chocolate. They’re reputed to be the finest chocolate-covered cherries in the world. Are you sure you won’t have one?”
“No thank you,” answered Andrew with a sigh as his manhood wilted, “I’m allergic to dark chocolate.”
“What a pity, Krystyn said as she popped a chocolate in her mouth and sucked it dry before allowing the chocolate to melt in her mouth, “I’m quite addicted to dark chocolate. As far as I’m concerned, the darker it is, the better bitter.” She chuckled at her own pun and continued, “There is nothing so lovely as the taste of sucking the cherry-flavored syrup out of it’s chocolate shell before I bite down on it and crush the cherry with my teeth. “Of course, you understand…,” she said with a lopsided smile that indicated that she was hiding her true feelings, “that I only suck out the syrup before I chew the rest of it up because I don’t want to stain my blouse with the cherry juice. Burgundy tinctured syrup is almost a difficult a stain to get out of clothing as blood is.”
Andrew shuddered slightly at the woman’s seemingly innocuous comment. The undercurrent of sex, blood, destruction and darkness in the conversation was making him nervous. Suddenly, he saw her bedroom motif in a new light. The reference to sucking out the juices before consuming the object of her desire made her sound like a Black Widow spider who believed that she had already trapped him in the sticky strands of her web and was only waiting for the right moment to pounce. Although it was plain to Andrew that she was teasing him, there was something about her that early writers of English folklore and imitators of the genre like the justly renowned J.R.R. Tolken would have termed “fell”.