Bob and Rachel

The little coffee shop overlooking the Leeds and Bradford Canal was my regular Monday morning haunt. I always needed an especially strong pick me up to kick start my working week. As usual, the girl I met online and arranged to meet on Saturday had taken one glance at my shiny bald spot and made polite excuses. With my charm and charisma, you'd have thought it would be easy for me to land a girlfriend. Right now, I simply wanted to drown my sorrows in a steaming mug of hot chocolate.

A bell hanging over the door jangled as I entered, and I inhaled the delicious aroma of freshly brewed coffee. Glancing around the dozen round tables for a good place to sit, my gaze landed on a gorgeous, well-proportioned lady about a decade younger than my own age of fifty wearing a nurse's uniform. When she beamed at me, I was pleasantly surprised to realize I knew her.

She brushed back her brunette bangs and waved me over. “Bob, I haven't seen you in years.”

“R-Rachel. How are you?”

“Good. Good. Wanna join me for coffee?" She gestured to the empty seat opposite. “Rest your ample arse.”

I smiled as I joined her. Rachel's charming natural informality was what first attracted me to her when we'd dated twenty years ago. She hadn't been a nurse then, but a lot can change in two decades. Glancing down, I noticed she hadn't received her order yet.

“Is the barista on a go slow this morning?” I joked.

She spread her hands in a gesture of resignation. “I've come off shift and forgot my purse. Looks like I'll have to go back to the hospital and grab it before I can get my caffeine fix.”

“Oh, I'm sorry. I imagine you're really tired if you've just finished a night shift. Why don't I pay for you?”

Rachel shook her head. “I couldn't.”

“Oh, come on. You contribute so much to society as a nurse—let me pay a little back.”

“That's really kind of you, Bob.” She picked up the menu. “I've never been here before.”

“I know you said coffee, but the Hot Chocolate Supreme is to die for—rich hot chocolate with chocolate-flavored whipped cream on top sprinkled with cocoa powder and dark chocolate chips.”

Rachel's eyes lit up in the way most girls' would for diamonds.

I gestured to the menu. “They also do an amazing Chocolate Devil Gateaux—hot chocolate fudge cake topped with chocolate-flavored ice cream and a hot chocolate sauce.”

“Wow, this place is Heaven.”

“That's why I come here all the time.”

She bit her lower lip. “I really shouldn't. I mean, I'm about to go to bed, and that sounds like a really, really rich cake.”

“That's not the Rachel I remember.”

She laughed. “You're right, Bob. Of course, I'll have some cake.”

I glanced at the barista and wiggled my fingers at both of us. She nodded in understanding—two of the usual.

Turning back to Rachel, I realized for the first time that her left hand was bare. “You're married, right? Do Health & Safety make you leave your ring at home when you're on shift?”

Her lips turned slightly downward. “No. Things between Hubby and me didn't work out. We parted ways a few months back.”

“I'm sorry to hear that. If it's not too intrusive to ask, what happened?”

“Irrevocable differences.” She grimaced. “He didn't share my love of chocolate.”

I gasped. “How callous!”

Rachel reached over and squeezed my hand. “I knew you'd understand.”

My cheeks flushed and I glanced away. She looked hot in that uniform. I'd always been attracted to her fuller than average figure and that cute chocolate mustache she often wore after enjoying a mug of hot chocolate, but I didn't want to come across as somebody who would take advantage of her immediately after a tragic breakup.

“Bob, do you remember how we first met?” she asked.

“The Cadbury's Chocolate Factory Tour. How could I ever forget?”

“You were standing there, eating three complementary chocolate bars at once—one in your mouth, and another in each hand. I immediately knew I'd met someone special.”

I chuckled. “Yes, but you completely ate me under the table that night when we went out for a chocolate fondue with chocolate dips and cocoa chasers.”

She twirled her finger through a brunette lock. “So, what are you doing these days?”

“I'm a freelance writer. Mainly I write advertisements for confectionery companies who want to increase internet sales, but sometimes fact based articles for lifestyle magazines.”

“Writing, huh. Is that something you enjoy?”

“Yes, but…”

“But what?”

I sighed. “What I really want to do is become a novelist like Joanne Harris. Have you read Chocolat?”

“Of course!”

“I'd love to be able to create vivid characters like she does and build believable worlds for them to live in. I love novels.”

“Oh, me too,” she gushed.

“What's your favorite book?”

“Er…” She glanced around, then out the window at the bleak Yorkshire skyline, howling wind, and heavy rain. “Wuthering Heights.”

“Ah, you like the classics.”

She nodded enthusiastically. “Yeah. Charlotte Brontë's awesome.”

I frowned. “Don't you mean Emily?”

“Oh, yes.” She covered her mouth and giggled. “I always get those pesky sisters confused—Charlotte, Emily, and Harriet.”

The barista bustled over with our order and placed it on the table. Something about what Rachel had just said bothered me, but the wonderful blended smell of so many different cocoa confections completely distracted me from the topic. Seeing her tuck in with gusto, I grabbed my own spoon and acted likewise.

I closed my eyes. An explosion of gastronomic delights hit my lucky taste buds as the bittersweet combination of high-cocoa content chocolate and cream massaged my tongue in an extasy of sensations and I experienced la petite mort in my mouth. Opening my eyes, I saw my own orgasmic pleasure mirrored in Rachel's sapphire orbs—two souls linked in mutual pleasure.

Two minutes later, we grinned at one another through a haze of post-coital glow over plates licked clean and empty mugs. She licked a chocolate smear from her lips, and my heart fluttered. God, she was an amazing woman.

She sighed. “What ever happened to us, Bob? We're so perfect for one another.”

I cocked my head. “You ran off with my best friend.”

“Oh, yeah.” She giggled. “Tom was cute.”

“Dick. You ran off with Dick. Tom was the guy you left when you met me.”

Rachel shrugged. “Tom, Dick, Harry. It was so long ago, sometimes I get confused.”

I shuffled in my chair. “I see.”

She reached across and grabbed my hand. “I get confused about the others, Bob. You I can never forget. You were the only boy who ever completely got me.”

“Really?”

She beamed. “Yeah, really.”

Warmth blossomed in my chocolate-filled belly and spread upward toward my heart.

Still holding my hand, Rachel glanced at the clock on the wall. “Say, Bob. It's getting really late, and I really must get to bed.”

I coughed. “Of course. Nursing is a demanding job. You'll need your beauty sleep.”

“I wasn't thinking about sleeping.” She smirked. “Do you still live just up the road from here?”

I swallowed. “Er… yeah.”

She squeezed my hand. “Maybe I could go back to yours for the day.”

“I-I-I'd like that.”

The coffee shop door banged open. Three men in dark blue uniforms burst inside. Each held a handgun pointed toward our table.

“Armed police! Don't move.”

Rachel snarled. She grabbed her spoon and jumped onto the table. “You'll never take me alive!”

More uniformed officers poured inside. A policewoman raised what looked like a yellow toy gun. “Drop the… spoon and come quietly.”

“Never!” spat Rachel and leaped off the table toward her with her spoon held high.

The policewoman fired. Something hit Rachel in the chest. Two wires trailing from the yellow gun vibrated, and she landed hard, shaking on the floor like an epileptic suffering a fit.

Five policemen together grabbed her and manhandled her toward the door.

“No,” she yelled. “No, I want my Bob. Leave me alone.”

Outside, yet more police officers opened the back doors of a police van, and Rachel was bundled inside.

Several police officers remained inside the coffee shop, and these each approached a member of staff or a customer. A slim, brunette policewoman sat in Rachel's seat.

“Hello, I'm Sergeant Sarah Braithwaite, and I'm in charge of this operation.” She flipped open her notepad and began writing.

“Wh-What just happened?”

She smiled sympathetically. “Your friend has been detained under Section One-Three-Six of the Mental Health Act.”

I shook my head in disbelief.

“You must be Mr. Robert Baker,” she continued.

“H-How do you know?”

“After your friend escaped from Ashworth last night—”

“Ashworth?”

“It's a high-security psychiatric hospital.”

“Psychiatric hospital!” I squeaked.

“Yes.” Sergeant Braithwaite pursed her lips. “As I was trying to say—after your friend absconded from Ashworth late last night, her psychologist identified you as her likeliest next target.”

I gaped. “Target?”

She nodded. “You may not realize this, but your friend was admitted to Ashworth a few months ago after she murdered her husband and four former boyfriends.”

“No!”

“Last night, she overpowered one of the nurses, stole her clothes and car keys, then escaped. As soon as her absence was noticed, we examined her case files and discovered that you were her boyfriend before Mr. Richard Fisher.”

“Yes. Wait! What? Has something happened to Dick?”

Sergeant Braithwaite's eyes turned sympathetic. “I'm sorry to have to tell you that Mr. Fisher died earlier this year.”

“No wonder he wasn't replying to my messages. What exactly happened?”

She flinched. “Do you really want to know?”

“Yes.”

“He was tied to a bed then suffocated. He was force-fed a hundred-and-twenty packets of Cadbury's Chocolate Buttons, which blocked his windpipe.”

I scratched my bald spot. “Rachel always did like Cadbury's Chocolate Buttons.”

“Mr. Baker, we're sorry for any upset today's incident may have caused you. We tried to locate you as soon as possible, and I'm delighted that we got here in time.”

I slumped in my chair. So, Rachel hadn't really liked me after all; she just wanted to murder me. On the other hand, if you've got to go, what better way than death by chocolate? I rubbed my chin and stared at the squeaky clean bowl which had previously held Rachel's chocolate cake. Could she possibly have faked that chocolate-induced orgasm? I shook my head. Impossible. In truth, I'd love someone to force-feed me a hundred-and-twenty packets of Cadbury's Chocolate Buttons. Perhaps she wasn't so much insane as misunderstood. I sighed. Since she dumped me for Dick, I'd never found another girl who understood my love for chocolate like she did.

I straightened and smiled at Sergeant Braithwaite. “This Ashworth Psychiatric Hospital… how can I go about making inquiries concerning their visiting hours?”



WORD COUNT: 1826
WRITTEN FOR: "Write From the Heart - Story Contest" 

Featured in "Romance/Love Newsletter (February 10, 2021)" 



The coffee shop overlooking the Leeds-Bradford Canal was my regular Monday morning haunt. I needed a strong pick-me-up to kick start my working week. As usual, the Tinder date I arranged to meet on Saturday took one look at my bald patch and made excuses. With my charm and charisma, you'd think it easy for me to land a girlfriend.

Upon entry, I scanned the dozen tables for an empty seat. My gaze landed on a gorgeous, well-proportioned lady about a decade younger than my own fifty years wearing a nurse's uniform. When she beamed at me, I was pleasantly surprised to find I knew her.

She brushed back her brunette bangs and waved me over. “Bob, I haven't seen you in years.”

“R-Rachel. How are you?”

“Good. Wanna join me for coffee? Rest your ample arse.”

Rachel's charm was what first attracted me to her when we dated twenty years ago. She wasn’t a nurse then. Glancing down, I noticed she hadn't received her order yet.

“Is the barista on a go slow this morning?” I joked.

She spread her hands in resignation. “I've just come off shift and forgot my purse.”

“Oh, I'm sorry. You must be tired if you've just finished a night shift. Why don't I pay?”

Rachel shook her head. “I couldn't.”

“Oh, come on. You nurses contribute so much—let me pay something back.”

“That's really kind, Bob.” She picked up the menu. “I've never been here before.”

“The Hot Chocolate Supreme is to die for. It has chocolate-flavored whipped cream sprinkled with cocoa powder and dark chocolate chips.”

Rachel's eyes lit up in the way most girls' would for diamonds.

“They also do an amazing Chocolate Devil Gateaux—chocolate fudge cake topped with chocolate ice cream and chocolate sauce.”

“This place is Heaven.”

“That's why I come here.”

She bit her lower lip. “I shouldn't. I'm about to go to bed, and that sounds like a rich cake.”

“That doesn’t sound like the Rachel I remember.”

She laughed. “You're right. Of course, I'll take cake.”

I glanced at the barista and wiggled my fingers at both of us. She nodded in understanding—two of the usual.

Turning to Rachel, I noticed her left hand was bare. “You're married, right? Do Health & Safety make take your ring off on duty?”

Her lips turned slightly downward. “Things didn't work out. We separated a few months ago.”

“I'm sorry to hear that. What happened?”

“Irreconcilable differences.” She grimaced. “He didn't share my love of chocolate.”

I gasped. “How callous!”

Rachel reached over and squeezed my hand. “I knew you'd understand.”

My cheeks flushed, and I glanced away. She looked hot in her uniform. I'd always been attracted to her fuller than average figure and the cute chocolate mustache over her lips after hot chocolate. But I didn't want to take advantage of her immediately after a breakup.

“Bob, do you remember how we first met?”

“The Cadbury's Chocolate Factory Tour. How could I forget?”

“You were standing there, eating complementary chocolate bars. I immediately knew I'd met someone special.”

I chuckled. “Yes, but you ate me under the table that night when we went out for a chocolate fondue.”

She twirled her finger through a brunette lock. “So, what do you do these days?”

“I'm a freelance writer. I write advertising copy for confectionery companies.”

“Writing, huh. Is that something you enjoy?”

“Yes, but…”

“But what?”

I sighed. “I really want to be a novelist like Joanne Harris. Have you read Chocolat?”

“Of course!”

“I'd love to create vivid characters and build believable worlds for them to inhabit. I love novels.”

“Oh, me too,” she gushed.

“What's your favorite?”

“Er…” She glanced out the window at the bleak Yorkshire skyline, with its howling wind and heavy rain. “Wuthering Heights.”

“Ah, you like the classics.”

She nodded enthusiastically. “Yeah. Charlotte Brontë's awesome.”

I frowned. “Don't you mean Emily?”

“Oh, yeah.” She covered her mouth and giggled. “I always get them confused—Charlotte, Emily, and Harriet.”

The barista bustled over with our order. Something about what Rachel said bothered me, but the wonderful aroma of so many cocoa confections distracted me. Seeing Rachel tuck in with gusto, I grabbed my own spoon and followed suit.

I closed my eyes. An explosion of gastronomic delights hit my lucky taste buds as the bittersweet combination of high-cocoa content chocolate and cream massaged my tongue in an extasy of sensations and I experienced la petite mort in my mouth. Opening my eyes, I saw my orgasmic pleasure mirrored in Rachel's sapphire orbs—two kindred souls.

Two minutes later, we grinned at one another through our post-coital haze over licked-clean plates and empty mugs. She casually wiped a chocolate smear from her lips, and my heart fluttered. God, she was an amazing woman.

She sighed. “What ever happened to us, Bob? We're so perfect for one another.”

I cocked my head. “You ran off with my best friend.”

“Oh, yeah.” She giggled. “Tom was cute.”

“Dick. You ran off with Dick. Tom was the guy you left for me.”

Rachel shrugged. “Tom, Dick, Harry. It was long ago.”

I shuffled in my chair. “I see.”

She reached across and grabbed my hand. “I get confused about the others, Bob. You I can never forget. You were the only boy who ever completely got me.”

“Really?”

She beamed. “Yeah, really.”

Warmth blossomed in my chocolate-filled belly and spread toward my heart.

Rachel glanced at the clock on the wall. “Say, Bob. It's getting late, and I must get to bed.”

I coughed. “Of course. Nursing is a demanding job.”

“I wasn't thinking about sleeping.” She smirked. “Do you still live just up the road from here?”

I swallowed. “Er…yes.”

She squeezed my hand. “Maybe we could go back to yours.”

“I-I'd like that.”

The coffee shop door banged open. Three men in blue uniforms burst inside. Each held a gun pointed toward our table.

“Armed police! Don't move.”

Rachel snarled. She grabbed her spoon and jumped onto the table. “You'll never take me alive!”

More officers poured inside. A policewoman raised what looked like a toy gun. “Drop that…spoon and come quietly.”

“Never!” spat Rachel and leaped off the table toward the officer.

The policewoman fired. Something hit Rachel in the chest. Two wires trailing from the gun vibrated, and she landed hard, shaking on the floor like an epileptic suffering a fit.

Five policemen together grabbed her and manhandled her toward the door.

“No,” she yelled. “No, I want my Bob. Leave me alone.”

Outside, yet more officers bundled Rachel into the back of a police van.

Several officers remained inside the coffee shop. Each approached a member of staff or a customer. A slim policewoman took Rachel's seat. “Hello, I'm Sergeant Braithwaite. I'm in charge of this operation.” She flipped open her notepad.

“Wh-What just happened?”

She smiled sympathetically. “Rachel has been detained under Section One-Three-Six of the Mental Health Act.”

I shook my head in disbelief.

“You must be Mr. Robert Baker,” she continued.

“H-How do you know?”

“After Rachel escaped from Ashworth last night—”

“Ashworth?”

“A high-security psychiatric hospital.”

“Psychiatric hospital!” I squeaked.

“Yes.” Sergeant Braithwaite pursed her lips. “As I was saying, after Rachel absconded last night, her psychologist identified you as her likely next target.”

I gaped. “Target?”

She nodded. “You obviously didn’t hear. Rachel was admitted to Ashworth a few months ago after she murdered her husband and four former boyfriends.”

“No!”

“Last night, Rachel overpowered one of the nurses, stole her clothes, then escaped. As soon as her absence was noticed, we examined her case files and discovered you were her boyfriend before Mr. Richard Fisher.”

“Yes. Wait! What? Has something happened to Dick?”

Sergeant Braithwaite's eyes turned sympathetic. “I'm sorry to have to tell you Mr. Fisher died earlier this year.”

“No wonder he wasn't replying to my messages. What exactly happened?”

She flinched. “Do you really want to know?”

“Yes.”

“He was tied to a bed and force-fed a hundred-and-twenty packets of Cadbury's Chocolate Buttons. They blocked his windpipe, and he died from asphyxiation.”

I scratched my bald patch. “Rachel always did like Cadbury's Chocolate Buttons.”

“Mr. Baker, we're sorry for any upset today's incident may have caused. I'm delighted we arrived in time to save you from harm.”

I slumped in my chair. So, Rachel didn’t really like me; she wanted to murder me. On the other hand, if you've got to go, what better way than death by chocolate?

I rubbed my chin and stared at Rachel’s squeaky-clean plate. Did she fake her chocolate-induced orgasm? I shook my head. Impossible. In truth, I'd love someone to force-feed me a hundred-and-twenty packets of Cadbury's Chocolate Buttons. Rachel wasn’t insane. She was misunderstood. I sighed. Since she dumped me for Dick, I'd never found another girl who understood my love for chocolate like she did.

I straightened and smiled at Sergeant Braithwaite. “This Ashworth Psychiatric Hospital…how do I arrange a visit?”