Fleur de Sel
Friday, January 27, 2012 at 08:43AM 
Fleur de Sel
by
Gary V. Powell
Sandra stands at my shoulder, fresh from work in a tight skirt. We’ve got an hour before she heads home to her husband.
“You made your own caramel?” she asks.
I should have been working, but I’d rather cook.
“Can I taste it?”
I dip, then sprinkle.
“What’s that?”
“Sea salt. Fleur de sel.”
“What’s with the salt?”
“Balances the sweet.”
She sucks my finger clean. “Holy shit! What do you do with it?”
“Drizzle it over the brownies.”
The aroma of homemade brownies holds us in a predator’s embrace.
“Oh my God.”
Like all my women, she’s soft and curvy and easily seduced by sugar, chocolate, and truffled anything.
Her eyes never leave mine. She unbuttons her blouse, reaches behind and unclasps her bra. She smears a dollop of warm caramel on each crimson nipple. I lean in, tongue extended.
“Wait,” she says. “Don’t forget the fleur de sel.”
Copyright Gary V. Powell 2012. All rights reserved. This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance of the characters to real people living or dead is purely coincidental.
Flash fiction in Gary, Short Story
Reader Comments (2)