Release Catch-up! More Smut for Chocoholics: Eclair

More Smut for Chocoholics

Ah, chocolate. The sensuality of it has long been exploited by artist. So following in this tradition are the two ‘chocoholic’ anthologies: Smut for Chocoholics, and now More Smut for Chocoholics.

My story, “Eclair”, features that most delicious item the chocolate elcair. It took me a couple of goes to get the story right. I knew I wanted a young female connoisseur of the pastry, and I knew I wanted an older, male experienced pastry chef/chocolate-tier, and it would involve some kind of punishment for some kind of transgression. The idea of my character winning something like a golden ticket to a prestigious party allowed reference back to Roald Dahl’s classic Charlie and the Chocolate Factory, but there is no Oompah Loompah in sight in this tale.

(Has that just tempted someone to right Oompah Loompah smut? I kind of hope it will.) 😉

Oh, one last thing: my character’s Melanie and Herr Bauer are in no way shape or form I way totes promise is based (visually) on a certain pair of actors who appear in a certain Tarantino film. Nope. In no way whatsoever…


Yet more Tales of Sensual, Sinful Chocolately Indulgence is the theme of this erotic anthology, edited by Tilly Hunter with assistance from Kev “Mitnik” Blisse.

More Smut for Chocoholics is all about over-indulgence, taking wicked delight in the erotic consumption and use of chocolate, with tales from some of erotica’s finest authors… Whatever your relationship with the seductive cocoa, there’s something nestling between the covers for you.

More Smut for Chocoholics contains tales from Tilly Hunter, Victoria Blisse, Aurelia T Evans, Lucy Felthouse, Ruby Madsen, Jacqueline Brocker, Vanessa de Sade, Wendi Zwaduk, Jillian Boyd, Nicole Gestalt, Slave Nano, Annabeth Leong and Anna Sky.


“The catering is always nice, but what’s waiting for us in the library…?” The man’s eyes glazed over with an almost orgasmic haze.

Ah, Melanie realised. That was why they were forbidden from entering the library. What must be in there, she wondered.

She decided it would be worth the wait, and to ignore the canapes in favour of exploring the other parts of the house. She was about to head through an archway that led to a large, long corridor when a hand softly grasped her shoulder. Melanie turned, and had to grab her glass with both hands to stop it spilling.

Herr Bauer’s eyes met hers, kind and inquisitive. “My dear, I’ve been informed that you are one of the winners of the public tickets to my party.”

His English was impeccable, his accent almost flawless, only the barest hint of flatness of his native German. As he spoke, Melanie wondered how she’d ever thought him someone you could just pass unnoticed.

“Um, ah, yes, that’s right. I’m Melanie.”

Which he already knew, she thought, otherwise how could he have approached her?

“Melanie.” He spelled out all three syllables, a tiny, staccato pause between each of them, his voice dropping low. His eyes bored right into her, and she couldn’t work out if he was pretending to have never seen her before, or if he genuinely couldn’t remember her. He must meet so many people in his work, she guessed it was the latter.

“I am, of course, Christoph Bauer—the English do enjoy calling me Herr Bauer and I have never made an effort to stop them. But may I ask Melanie: have we met before?”
Melanie swallowed. They technically hadn’t met, and yet to say no wouldn’t be true either.

Slowly, she said, “I am a…. frequent customer at Bauer’s. Maybe you saw me there. I would have remembered being introduced.”

He nodded, the smile not waning. “I see, that must be where. So you enjoy my chocolates, Melanie, or is it my cakes that entice you?”

The word ‘entice’ with his lovely accent sent a rush of heat like melted chocolate through her.

“Well, they’re all wonderful, but…”

It felt almost like a dirty secret she was telling him, as if confessing that she’d fantasised about him fucking her on the tables in Bauer’s itself. She cursed her brain for even planting that image in her mind. Still, the éclairs seemed even dirtier than a regular fuck.

“But what, Melanie?”

That perfect enunciation again, with a keen smile.

Keeping her voice as steady as she could, Melanie said, “I do really love your éclairs.”

“Oh I am glad to hear that. You may be having some more tonight. Now, I must go and speak to other guests.”

He gave her a small bow, such that she almost curtsied, but stopped herself in time. He left her, and Melanie turned and moved quickly towards the corridor.

Left alone, Melanie decided to explore what she could of the house. The party room, which was probably a dining room, held some lovely paintings, but she found herself moving away from the crowd and into the gallery. There were several other smaller rooms off it where people stood admiring the furnishings, and it took some time to fully take in everything. At last, she decided that maybe she could do with a small snack from the canapes. She was about to re-enter the dining room when she passed a door standing ajar.

There was something tantalising to her about a door standing just a little bit open. Closed seemed like an obvious barrier, a strong warning. Open was just too easy, everything was there for you to see. But ajar, Melanie could never resist taking a peak through at the half-concealed, half-revealed world beyond. It was like when a man undid the top buttons of his shirt—incredibly sexy.

Melanie doubled back. Through the gap, she could see across the room to high shelves lined with books.

The forbidden library. Melanie smiled, as if she’d discovered something terribly exciting.

She glanced over each shoulder, making sure she was still alone. She took a step closer, hoping the new angle would reveal more. It was just enough to show her the edge of a table draped in a red cloth, and, resting on the edge, a silver platter. And, piled up on that platter, were ten long, blunt shapes Melanie knew very well: chocolate éclairs.
Melanie could practically taste them from where she stood. Her salivating mouth would have impressed Pavlov. She bit her lower lip, already imagining the feel of the chocolate on the ridges of the roof of her mouth, her tongue taking in the pastry below, and the spurt of cream as her teeth sunk into it. Something to be savoured, each bite more tender than the next.

Two women walked behind her, chatting, ignoring her, but she started, whipping around to watch as they re-entered the main room. She exhaled, and wondered why she was acting like this. She was only standing outside the library. She hadn’t gone in.

Taking a step forward, she pushed the door open a fraction more. She was still officially outside the room. Only thing she was doing was looking inside.

That platter was just the start. There were triangles of chocolate cake, tiny little gold-wrapped chocolates, strawberries dipped in white and dark and milk chocolate, a steaming glass pot, chocolate swirling and bubbling through it, and platters upon platters of éclairs.

So many éclairs, so many other delicious goodies, one would not be missed.

Melanie gave two quick looks over her shoulders, and slipped inside without pushing the door open further. She’d have to be quick, but she could do it. It wasn’t her style to scarf a Bauer éclair down, but to just be the first to try one of his tonight, on this night, was divine, to be standing there alone in front of the display of chocolate, as if it were all laid out for her alone, and devouring her favourite dish.

She selected one from the top, licked her lips, and brought it to her mouth. Her teeth hadn’t yet bitten down when a stern voice barked behind her.


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