Vixens of Confection – D150

14 Nov

I confess…  over the past two weeks I have been having an affair with the tub of Red Vines in my office’s break room.

It was really quite innocent to begin with.  We had not had them in the office in quite some time so I rarely thought about them though we had met before… flirted (not so) innocently in the past, but my life is different these days!  I am committed now.  Occasionally I might ponder their silky texture or let my mind wander over their delicate, sinuous twists but tell me who, in a committed relationship, has not allowed their thoughts to stray from time to time?

Then early last week they show up unannounced.  At first it was easy to avoid them; I would quickly grab my lunch from the refrigerator and avoid eye contact at all costs.  I ate at my desk and feinted important conference calls to excuse my absence in the break room.  By the third day I was congratulating myself for resisting the temptation and figured I could withstand a half an hour in their presence.  We did that tentative dance many former flames find themselves involved in when trying to pretend as though there is nothing between them.  A cautious glance here, an eye flutter there; calculated steps that take you close enough to catch a fleeting whiff of their seductive yet pernicious scent.

I survived our first encounter, but just barely.  My heart pulsed in an erratic thrum, my skin was dank with beads of perspiration, and worst of all the compunction coursing through my veins left me weak.  I knew to return to the break room would be my utter ruin yet my resolve to resist waned in each passing moment.  I tried to distract myself with emails and phone calls; anything to keep myself from venturing back there, back to where they waited for me with whispers of pleasure and delectation.

The next day I attempted to bolster my resolve, this provocateur would not see me for my weakness!  I watched the minutes tick by in sluggish succession and always in the back of my mind lingered the memory of our wicked dance.  Slowly my once efficacious resolve was replaced by doubting thoughts.  They are not so bad…  What could one little nibble hurt?  No one ever has to know…

Much like any torrid affair just one turned into just one more.  Each time the guilt would consume me and I would swear to never again satiate my cravings with their tender, succulent pabulum.  Oh but how their taste would linger on my lips, each moment with them echoing in my mind.  Mindlessly I slink back to their lair and indulge again and again in our vexatious liaisons.  I am powerless against their beguiling marrow; my only hope is to empty the tub and pray they never return.

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