I’m in bed with Paul for the first time; it should be the best moment of my life, but as usual it has been ruined by chocolate.

[More:]

We try different positions, but our fat keeps getting in the way. All I can hear is cold flesh slapping against cold flesh. I pull myself off Paul and hug the duvet around my self-consciousness.

“Are you okay?” Paul sits up.

I look down at the sheets, crumpled like an empty chocolate wrapper, and retreat into my thoughts.

We never really stood a chance. Even our names are fat: Samantha and Paul. I’ve always been big. Trouble is I love chocolate, and it's hard to avoid it when you work in a supermarket. All day I watch packets and bars and tubs pass through my till: chocolate biscuits, wafers, cakes, bars, ice cream, milkshakes...

Then I met Paul, my first proper boyfriend. He also works at the supermarket, mainly in the bakery. He loves chocolate too and is even bigger than me. We enjoyed talking about our favourite flavours and sharing the richness of dark chocolate melting on the tongue. He made me laugh too. Soon I stopped noticing how fat either of us was – except when we tried to wedge together on the sofa and now, as we try to make love for the first time.

“Sam! Darling, look at me.” Paul peels away the duvet, then grabs my hand and pulls me to him. I smell warm dough, cinnamon and orange chocolate.

“Let’s try something else,” he whispers softly in my ear. He kisses me and starts to nibble at my neck, slowly, as if savouring a chocolate truffle. He moves downwards; stroking and licking, licking and stroking. As his fingers and tongue caress my body, it feels like chocolate melting.

5 November 2007