You know you want me

Friday afternoon was cruel. Civic and I had gone to the latest Sunterra Market concept for lunch. He had it dead on when he said it was like an amusement park. Complete with the long lines and the different booths of attraction...you've got the creperie, you've got the big pan, you've got the pizza and pasta corner, yadda yadda yadda. We split the special feature pizza, Chicken Alfredo with Broccoli. That was scrumptious! Huge disaster for dessert, though...not a single slice of tiramisu in sight! I was dejected.

After work I couldn't shake the tiramisu off my mind so I trekked to the other Sunterra in search of the elusive treat. Alas, no tiramisu there, either. But now a new dessert was seducing me...a huge slab of chocolate cake with white icing and strawberries on top. I should have walked away, I had come to have my tiramisu, not chocolate cake. The cake would not hear any of it, though. It said to me "Tiramisu's not here, why not have me? I'll make you feel good, too." $2.25 later, I was face to face with that huge piece of cake.

I savored that massive thing, it was soooo moist and tender. It was practically melting in my mouth, I was in heaven. That cake made me totally forget about tiramisu.

Halfway through, I was starting to feel guilty and regretted my impulsive cake-eating moment. I couldn't escape, it beckoned to me, knowing I couldn't resist having it all. Then came the clincher...once I finished the whole thing, the damn cake called me a dessert slut. It didn't matter that the one I had really wanted wasn't there, I settled for any "piece" so long as I "got some." I was too easy, and they all knew that. They've knocked me up, too. I can feel my belly getting bigger as we speak. Damn desserts, they're all toying with me as their own little booty call. I am the whore of sweet things. Cruel little bastards.