Describe a baked good like a cheap detective in a 1940& #39;s noir novel describes his new sexy client.

GO.

"She walked in, sweet and spicy, like she was fresh from the oven that forged her. In my stupor, I thought I saw steam rise off her soft exterior, but that might& #39;ve been the bathtub gin, or maybe I was drunk on memories.

& #39;What& #39;s under that frosting,& #39; I asked myself, scowling."

Dammit, this is becoming my favorite thread in ages.

You people are awesome.

Seriously, the creativity here is amazing to me.

Great job, you excellent weirdos.

"It wasn& #39;t enough to say I wanted her. It was a hunger. It was a CRAVING. Every moment I didn& #39;t hold her, felt like a deprivation to my very bones.

But then, once I had her, the guilt, the shame...I felt it in my gut, like nausea. Remorse like burnt sugar on my tongue."