Just Dessert

(Taking a break today. The serial story will continue next week.)

“We’re almost there,” Whit said. “Keep your eyes closed. No peeking.”

“I’m not peeking,” Penelope lied. Not that she could see a thing with his hand clamped over her eyes. “Is this a good surprise or a bad surprise?”

“It’s the best. Oops. Stop right here.” He kept his palm over her face. She heard the scrape of a chair being pulled back and guessed he’d brought her to one of Haven’s intimate private cubbies . “I suppose you’d better look now. If you fall on your ass, you’ll kick mine.”

“Damn right I will.” Penelope opened her eyes, which immediately widened when she saw what awaited her.

Sitting on the table before her was a banana split, in all its sweet, chocolate and caramel, calorie-laden goodness. The two mounds of vanilla ice cream had been carefully sculpted to resemble giant boobs. The cherries that topped the mounds wore nipple clamps.

“Happy opening night,” Whit said. He handed her a spoon. “Happy successful opening night. Dig in.”

Penelope seated herself at the table and accepted the spoon. “This is not at all what I was expecting to wrap my lips around after a long night at work. This is better.” She scooped up banana and ice cream and thrust it into her mouth, then shut her eyes to savor the sugar meltdown on her tongue. “Whole worlds of better. Did you make this?”

“Not on my best day. I’m better with fruit. Rupert outdid himself. From my specifications, of course.”

She inspected one of the clamps with a tentative finger. “Are these … pretzels?”

“They are indeed. When the salt hits the sugar—”

But Penelope had already snapped off the end of a “clamp” and dipped it into a vanilla boob to see for herself. She moaned. “Absolute heaven. You naughty boy. How did you ever come up with this?”

Whit took a seat. “I wish I could lie and tell you it was all my idea. Alas, no. While traveling this marvelous country of yours, I made an extended stop in New Jersey. I fell in with a flock of seagulls with, shall we say, sophisticated tastes. One of their number ran an ice cream and candy shop on the boardwalk. He had quite the sense of humor.”

“And quite the dirty mind, I see.”

“Not in the shop, of course. The Jersey Shore is far too family-oriented. He had a side business on the internet. He was always in demand for the better birthday parties.”

“I’ll just bet.” Having demolished the pretzel clamps, Penelope attacked the banana portion. “I can’t believe you talked Rupert into this. I had him pegged as vanilla.”

“Shows what you know. A little gingerbread and powdered sugar and he turns into a wild man.”

“I’ll keep that in mind. Did this gull friend of yours have any other goodies?”

“He managed to make a flogger with a chocolate handle and tails made from salt water taffy.” Whit made a face. “I suppose that’s all the taffy’s good for. I don’t imagine anyone actually eats it.”

“Not that I’ve ever heard of.” Penelope lapped whipped cream off her spoon. “I like the idea, though. If we could make the tails out of caramel … ”

“And stud the handle with chopped-up nuts … ”

“With a peanut-butter center … ”

“Oh Gawd.” Whit fanned himself with his hand. “If Rupert can create something like that, I’ll marry him.”

“Get in line. We may have to consider adding a dessert cart. Let’s see how shakedown week pans out.”

At that moment Rupert himself appeared. He kept his hands behind his back. “Sir. Mistress. Was dessert to your liking?”

“Very much so, Rupert, thank you. You’re talented in ways I never expected. Keep up the good work.”

Rupert blushed. “Thank you, Mistress.” He brought out the plate he’d been concealing. “Your dessert, Sir. As specified.”

Penelope hadn’t thought her eyes could get any wider. Whit’s banana split was mostly banana, planted upright in a sea of fudge, with a head of cream at its tip and two small scoops of ice cream at its base. It looked exactly like a—

Whit accepted the plate with a beaming smile. “Perfect. Thank you, Rupert.” Rupert flushed a darker red and hastily withdrew.

Penelope stared in fascination at Whit’s dessert. Her mouth watered. “Want to switch?”

“Sweetie, I’ll never switch. But if you’re a good girl, I’ll let you lick the spoon.”