Chocolate Cheesecake

Hello, my darling readers! Always a pleasure to see you. As I sit here, in my darkened room, typing, my long blonde hair frizzing in the heat, I am drawn to thoughts of a certain cheesecake I once knew.

I am, of course, a veritable master in the kitchen. I think that goes without saying. I am a genius. And yet, I am so misunderstood and ignored. Like the time when I sent in my recipe for chocolate cheesecake to the Bake Off people. *sigh* I should have known better than to use sucanet. But I didn't care, it was important to me to use quality ingredients. And if I had to use their product (well, I DID have to use their product-it was in the rules!), I was going to try to minimize any damage by making the rest of the cake out of whole quality ingredients.

I was ignored.

But I know why you're here. You want your daily dose of porn-and nobody does it quite like Hilda, do they?

The cheesecake: It's infused with melted chocolate. And NO, YOU FUCKING IDIOTS NOT HERSHEY BARS! (God, Hershey bars have come to suck! I HATE HATE HATE THEM!) I am talking about the extra expensive kind that you buy at Whole Foods. It's melted into the cream cheese mixure (cream cheese, sucanet and eggs) and then it is baked-wait for it-------oh..on a chocolate chip cookie dough crust. Yes. Last, it is frosted with whipped cream, meaning heavy cream I have whipped myself and sweetened with stevia. The result is a silky chocolate confection that contrasts nicely with the sweet chocolate chips and cookie that crunches ever so nicely in your mouth. Last, there is the whipped cream, which is a foil for the sweetness, as it is not so terribly sweet, just a creaminess that takes the hard edge off the intensity of the chocolate.

I'm breathing heavily just thinking about it and my skin is moist with perspiration. Any moment now, I will begin to spoil in the heat. I can imagine that there is someone out there, who waits for me. Patiently, and without any pain, he waits. I am in love with a certain Captain from 500 years in the future-and I have watched him eat. He likes his food. He devours passionately and I can imagine what he would do with my cheesecake.

"What's this?" he would say.

"Chocolate cheesecake. I baked it myself. From scratch."

"Really?" He would sit down and smile at me benevolently. "I didn't know you could cook."

"Uh, huh," I would say, sliding into his lap (again, I am terribly compact and would fit perfectly).

"Now, how am I supposed to eat this with a lap full of Hilda?"

"You'll see," I say and get up to get a knife to cut him a slice.

"And where do you think you're going?"

"To get a kni-" I start to say, but he puts a finger to my lips.

"No knives," he says.

"Okay," I grab a handful of the cake and break off little bits and feed it to him.

"It's good!" He sounds surprised.

"I know," I take a bite.

But we can only eat so much, because it is extremely rich.

"Hilda, you have made the happiest man in the verse at this very point in time," he says.

"Oh, Honey, you have not yet begun to experience Hilda Stinson." I get up, go over to the sink and wash the cake off my hands. Then I return to his lap and look deeply into his eyes, "Captain?"

"Hmm?"

"You have got a good time coming your way, whether you like it or not."

He closes his eyes and just gives in to the inevitable.
As well he should!

I remain, my dear readers,

Hilda Stinson!