He was looking through emails and his daily ingestion of news from multiple websites when he saw the words, 'Date Caramel' and he stopped. Something about the words just called to him.

He thought her scent would be sweet, but not cloying, not like these two women at his office. He swore when either of them moved suddenly, they would leave an outline of perfume hanging in the air. Even an hour later, if he walked into someone's office, he could tell if either of the women had been there just from that scent. No, Caramel's scent would certainly be sweet, but much more subtle. A hint rather than getting smacked in the face. He inhaled deeply at the thought. He couldn't picture her just yet, but the scent brought to mind her taste.

In his mind, he thought how she would taste. Oh there would be sweetness there as well, but also complexity. Slightly salty as well, sweet and salty was wonderful on the tongue. He couldn't imagine a one-note flavor from her. He knew she would taste different depending on where he was — he clamped down on that thought as he felt himself stirring, but his mind kept bringing him back to her delicate and much-nuanced taste. He started seeing her more clearly now.

Her color wouldn't be chocolatey, but more of a coffee with cream. Not too much cream, but just enough to lighten the look. It would highlight the shadows and textures rather than blur or cover. There would be a smoothness to her, a delicacy that would contrast with her strength. He felt as if he could simply look at her for hours. But what would she be wearing?

He considered several colors and decided classic would be the best. He pictured white, a bright white, something to contrast with her own coloring so clearly. Black would not contrast enough, and the other primary colors would conflict. There were probably other shades that could show her off to her advantage, but he kept returning to white. It would be simple and not distract from her at all. It could contain and yet offer a view of her perfection. He sat there for several minutes building this mental image.

He could see her curves, no sharp angles but gentle curves, a smooth transition rather than a jarring change. Not slim, more rounded to have something to hold. A body to enjoy, not a thin facsimile. He was right at the edge of the perfect picture. He could almost see her.

A noise broke his reverie and he shook his head. He looked at the screen again and thought, "I didn't even know you could make caramel from dates?" Then he thought, "I need to get out more, if a cooking site can do this to me. I need a life!"