Taking a brief respite from the road trip story, I wish to talk about chocolate. I don't feel most men truly understand the effect on women by chocolate or they would keep a box of Godiva right next to the box of Trojans.

First, let me clarify that there are three types of chocolate in this world. (Some would say that there are four, but I stand by the point that the white shit does not contain cocoa and therefore cannot be considered chocolate by definition.) The first type is that crappy holiday stuff that comes in little pieces that you can melt down to make quaint little suckers for your grandkids, or is in the shape of little Christmas bells, or what have you. That stuff sucks - pure and simple. It is a disgrace to all that is chocolate. The second category is not so bad. This is your normal everyday candybar chocolate, the type Hersheys', Reeces', and Nestles' use. Not bad, but not as good as it could be. Then, there is Godiva.

Godiva is the epitome of what it means to be chocolate. It is so far above in taste and quality that I hesitate to call all else chocolate at all. There are quite a few companies that fall into the same nitch as Godiva, but I shan't go into them now. We will focus on Godiva and Ferrero Rocher for now.

Chocolate has a power over me. Take, for instance, Ferrero Rocher's little confection (hazelnuts and three different kinds of chocolate all in a seductive little spherical package just begging to be devoured - "An orgasm in foil" is what my husband calls them), or the dark chocolate truffles by Godiva (creamy dark chocolate in a hard dark chocolate shell, rolled in cocoa). My husband loves to watch me eat them. From the moment the chocolate first touches my tongue, I absorb it completely. It infuses my entire body with a feeling not unlike that of arousal.

I do, I get aroused when I eat chocolate. When I feel it melt on my tongue, mmm, mixing with my saliva, I get a tingling starting in my tummy then spreading out, getting more intense. I love the taste, the texture, on my tongue, gums, roof of my mouth. I relish it, sucking on it, feeling it turn to liquid.

I roll it around with my tongue, delighting in the way the chocolate seems to leave a trail where it has been, feeling it coat my mouth, covering my taste buds, consuming me as I consume it.

Then, as the first bit starts sliding down toward the back of my throat, I realize I must swallow. No, not yet! I want to make it last, savor every bit of flavor I can - make it last forever. But, eventually, I give in, swallowing the mouthful, wallowing in the after-taste as much as one does an after-glow; wanting desperately to eat another piece just to experience it all over again. Sometimes I will, knowing that one piece just isn't enough. I put another one into my mouth and get even more aroused as I go through it all over again.

My husband is well aware of the effect chocolate has on me and abuses it every chance he gets. Our house has a constant supply of delectables, much of which finds it way upstairs to be enjoyed as a sort of fore-play for us both. For me, it's the start of a very high climb. For my husband, it's just the beginning of a wonderful evening.