Chronicle of chocolate and pleasure

My Script: Los Angeles

Like a painter in her workshop, Ana painted everything she could, except that she painted her chocolates so full of stories and mystery with aromas and pleasures. She was a craftswoman, but she had studied, above all things, pleasure. Much was condemned about his sensuality. Some believed it was witchcraft, others worse. But the seductive Ana used only two weapons: chocolate and pleasure. What can two such terrestrial things do to good people? The neighbors were wondering, but still very unsure about the answer.
Ana slowly melted her chocolate at approximately 50 degrees, in a bowl overlaid with a pan that contained water with small effervescent bubbles. During the water bath, the aromas seemed to bewitch not only his kitchen, but the neighborhood, which despite censoring with words, was already deceived by the ritual that would happen. The nostrils that roamed the streets filled the chest with joy, just to be seduced by those perfumes that spread shy, but present. In his small chocolate shop there was a shop window, where the tempering of the chocolate was made every day at five in the afternoon.
Her little show started when she poured out all the dense melted dough, which danced down towards the icy marble, and started to massage it. The chocolate, by one of the spatulas, was spread under the work surface, with the other, the dough was already spread, towards the center. This massage, which took place with a certain rhythm, lasted until the moment when that unctuous mass reached the temperature of approximately 30 degrees. From then on, the world belonged to Ana. Everything she could do, she did. Among several bonbons, the house-made chocolate and spices made him the most famous.
Although people thought that Ana’s delicacies won over anyone, she won only who she wanted. Ana, the middle-aged woman, although very confident, sometimes asked her own certainty of not wanting to get married. She was certain that no one else could give her as much pleasure as the chocolates. Solitude was the way he found to get close to sweets. The pleasure he felt was absolute, not only with his irresistible chocolates, but with the very event of making them.
Now, in the midst of her uncertainties, the doorbell rang. It was late at night. With a red bow tied to a dark box, he delivered another package that contained more than chocolates. Despite the guesses that circulated in the neighborhood, nobody could say, for sure, what contained so aphrodisiac in those chocolates. It was the pleasure deposited by Ana that caused so much euphoria to those who ate. She, single, did not imagine that her pleasure would create bonds with so many others.

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