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The Candyman

The Candyman

  • A Penthouse Letter by Withheld

Sure I’d misheard the handsome man standing next to me at the fundraiser’s dessert table, I responded, “I’m sorry. What did you say?”

“I said I work at a chocolate factory.” He pointed to the cake I was reaching toward and added, “And that’s not anything I would eat.”

Truth be told, the fudgy cake did look kind of sad. I’d been chitchatting with the man as we moved along the buffet line and looked over the offerings. The busy fundraiser was being held at the local community center. Jack, my husband of five years, was a charity bigwig, but he couldn’t make it, so I had to go in his place. Initially that had irked me, but now that I was talking with the good-looking, chocolate-factory man, things didn’t seem so bad.

I took a slice...

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