Excerpt from The Princess and the Pea

   
     Startled, Cassandra looked up to find Paul standing in the doorway, his naked body gilded in the gold of lamplight and the silver of moonlight. He held a tray in his hand. Cassandra wanted to tell him not to move, to stay there where she could enjoy just the sight of him. Instead she sat up and scooted over to make room for him.
     "The ultimate in decadence," he announced, sliding in under the sheets and settling the tray on his lap. "Oreos and milk. Once you taste this, you'll never crave caviar again."
     "That," she retorted dryly, "I'll have to see."
     Cassandra reached over to pick up a cookie, but Paul smacked her hand. "This has to be done correctly. There's a certain ritual."
     Cassandra lifted an eyebrow. "Like a Japanese tea ceremony?"
     Paul grinned. "Better. Now, observe."
     He made great show of pouring two glasses of milk from the pitcher and handing Cassandra hers. Then, setting the pitcher aside, he set the plate of cookies between them.
     "There are many opinions on the proper way to eat an Oreo," he said. "But I only two to be worth consideration."
     "But how can I make an informed decision unless I try them all?"
     "Later. Because once you try this, you will agree with me. Now," he instructed. "Address your cookie.
She giggled again, nodding to the plate. "Hello, cookie."
     Paul scowled. "You know what I mean."
     He picked up his glass of milk and a cookie and held them out as examples. Cassandra followed suit.
     "Now then," he said. "The dip. Follow my lead."
     So saying, he dipped the cookie in the milk and took a small bite. Cassandra did the same. Then she smiled. The taste was as delightful as the texture. Soft chocolate and vanilla cream.
     "Now take a sip of milk to cleanse the palate."
     She followed the ritual until the cookie was gone. All that did was make her want more. No wonder Paul said that these were so wonderful. They were. It amazed her that she'd never tried one before.
     "Ready for the next method?"
     "But I like that one," she protested, ready to dip another.
     "This next one," he continued, barring her way to the cookies, "is considered the connoisseur's choice. A much more subtle approach. Take cookie in hand."
     She did. The milk was set on the table for the moment. It was all Cassandra could do to keep from giggling afresh. Never in her life would she have thought that she would be celebrating the loss of her virginity with cookies and milk. Suddenly it seemed the only way.
 
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