The museum is closed. Taisha stared at the new exhibition and had been doing so for hours.
"Where in the Hell did the money come for this?" She asked herself.
Taisha understood the attempt to pull in the public over Valentine's Day with such a series of pieces. Still, this exhibit just seen to materialize out of nowhere.
"Valentine's Day, what a crock. What a humbug."
She had been a curator for years and nothing ever just appeared. The whole thing made her nervous. The timing. The twelve chocolate sculptures. And the fact a board member, who never expressed a bit of interest in any exhibit, suddenly showed up to her office championing this display,
"What a mess this will be. Someone has to touch it. Or it will melt. Or some kid manages to get their teeth in it."
Still the museum had housed sand paintings and ice sculptures all temporary at one time or another. The artist said he was not worried about it and assumed all liability for the pieces. So, the museum's exposure is minimal, she thought. The pieces are amazingly detailed, Taisha thought. She had yet to find a seam from casting or a tool mark on any of the pieces.
"Piduc Rose." Taisha said the name aloud and let it roll around in her head. She had no idea who the sculptor was. Of course, he was just as likely a chocolatier as sculptor. "Whoever he is he is prolific and talented. Any of the masters could have signed these -- were they not chocolate. All of them destine to disappear. What a waste."
She shivered. The room's temperature had been lowered to fifty degrees to stave off the chocolate's melting. It was the only way the museum could come up with to deal with the combined body heat of the expected crowds. "I need a jacket." she said to herself.
Leaving, Taisha made sure to close the close the glass door in an effort to keep the cool air in the room.
"Jesus, my nipples are rock hard. Well, I am sure that looks professional. I am just not sure which profession."
Although not a small girl, Taisha was always put together. But since becoming a teenager she had been over generously blessed with what many men frequently referred to, when they thought she could not hear, "All the right curves, in all the right places." Her bras constantly rebelled against the duress her F-size breasts put them under. And despite being tasteful, she always seemed to be poured into her clothes very so slightly. Her nipples proudly pushing their way out of her shirt only made that perception more real.
"Always wear a jacket in that room." She made a verbal mental note her physical gifts had benefited her career occasionally but more often seemed to get in the way.
Men, if they had not become the enemy, were seen by her roundly as an obstacle or distraction and as such they were to be kept at arm's length, preferably further. She crossed her arms upon seeing Mel, one of the night security personnel on his rounds. She was not anxious to be ogled tonight.
"Ms. Stokes."
"Mel." Taisha was constantly amazed, despite his obvious age Mel looked oddly twenty something. His rosy cheeks, a round apple of a face, and unkempt curls reminded her of the subject Gainsborough's "The Blue Boy" grown up but more cherubic somehow. She remembered when they hired him, however, he felt like he had been there forever, maybe before she arrived. It was this time displacement that made Taisha always uncomfortable around him.
"How's the new show coming?"
"Okay."
She tried to keep moving toward her office but the guard continued, "I never heard of the artist and walking these halls all these years I thought I had heard of most of them. I even did a little studying on the side. Have myself quite a little collection of art books -- still no, is it Mr. Rose?" He smiled broadly and warmly.
Taisha smiled back, "Yes. I have never heard of him myself. Melvin, I had no idea you were interested in sculpture, if you need any extra materials for your study or have a question -- please stop by my office. I am sorry I have to run and get a jacket, so I can finish up tonight." It was the quickest and most polite way to conclude the conversation she could think of in the moment.
"Oh, sure, sure." Melvin said tipping his cap and heading on his patrol.
As she turned and started toward her office, Taisha thought she felt a hand touch her ass. "Melvin?" She turned around expecting to see the guard. Then the explaining, "Sorry, you are very nice but I never date at work." Why did men think it was okay to start this up in the office? He would not be the first -- maybe she would go to HR this time.
But no, she was standing by herself in the hallway.
"Where'd he go? My mind is playing tricks on me. I need a little pick me up." Back in her office Taisha knew there was a piece of cake just waiting. It was too late for such an indulgence and her weight loss group would frown on it. Screw them, she thought. Her job left her little time for a personal life, although she had put more than a few barriers up herself. "Men and romance, more trouble than either is worth." Her drive and single-mindedness had allowed her to advance well above her years and despite significant disadvantages at the being of her career.
Locking the door, she sat at her desk, and opened the container holding the piece of cake. The smell and taste of coconut always made her horny and wet, as she greedily bit into the cake. Hiking up her skirt, she allowed her fingers to massage her sex though her panties as she ate. Having four layers the cake was plush, thick, soft and delicious, as she was. "It sure as Hell beats a fruit cup."
Before swallowing the last piece Taisha pressed the moisture out of it by trapping the cake by pushing her tongue against the roof of her mouth. She shuddered as she frantically pleasured herself through her panties.
As the sweetness ran down her throat she said, "I wonder what Melvin would think of me like this." The cake, her fingers, and the thought of being watched allowed her to release.
"Damn it. I did not mean to mess up my skirt." Taisha stood legs shaking. "Oh god, I hope I have a spare still stashed in my bag.
Suddenly she became aware of a smell the aroma of chilies, oranges, roses, coffee, and chocolate. "Is that from the exhibit? Christ, could they be melting? There was no way she should smell the room from here." Standing and grabbing her jacket she tied it around her waist in an attempt to hide her wet ass. Then she struggled to straighten her skirt while jogging to the hall.
Taisha slid to a halt. Her three inch heels tried desperately to dump her on the floor but years of practice on the polished marble kept her upright. The statues were fine. But the smell coming from inside the room was overwhelming. Her alarm vanishing she was drawn into the room by the aroma. As she opened the door every scent seemed to rush through her recalling her recent orgasm. Her knees became weak with the memory but a lust, a hunger grew within her. "My God, how I did not notice that before?" Before she realized she was on the other side of the glass. "She ran her hands through her hair and down her body."
