Date: Fri,  6 Feb 2004 01:44:00 -0500 (EST)
From: Danny <twinkchaser@excite.com>
Subject: Love in the Chocolate Factory Part 1

This story is fictional.  I wrote it as an exercise.  My friend gave me two
names, a place, an occupation, and various details.  I put them together
into a story.

This is the first story I have posted on Nifty.  Depending on how it is
received, I may post a few more.  There is sex later on in the story if you
are wondering.  I welcome any comments to twinkchaser@excite.com.

Thanks, Craig!

My name is Brendan Allen.  I am an average guy, at 5'8", 170 lbs, with blue
eyes and dark brown hair.  I am not extremely handsome, and I really don't
care.  I resigned myself to loneliness at a young age and never worked to
change it.  I never dated in school.  I spent most of my time at the
library reading.  I am not a particularly smart person, but I do enjoy a
good book.

I knew I was different, and that it would be hard for me to find happiness.
Instead of bolstering me into action, it beat me into submission.  I did
what I had to do, and nothing more.  There I sat, reading of things I would
never do or see, and not really caring.

I grew up in Maine.  Luckily I was born in Bangor.  It is not that small a
city.  I grew up rather sophisticated, if not rich.  My family never had a
lot of money.  Both my mother and father worked, where most people do, at
the Silverwood candy factory on the corner of Fifth and Vine.  We lived on
Pier St., so it wasn't far to walk.  I barely finished high school, so
college wasn't much of an option.  I ended up the last place I wanted to
be, as a line worker in the chocolate section of the factory.  Some people
would think it a good job, to be around candy all day.  I would rather have
had any other job.

I spent my days staring at candy coming down the line.  I watched thousands
of pieces go by in a steady stream.  I, along with several other people,
looked for pieces that didn't look good.  We took them off the line and
someone else replaced them.  We could eat them if we wanted, but that got
old faster than you think.

I was about to turn 21 on the ninth of May, and I didn't think anyone knew
or cared.  My mom and dad knew, but I never mentioned it to the few friends
I had.  I was thinking of going to a bar and getting really drunk.  This
sounded really good, so I planned it for the Saturday after the ninth.  I
didn't tell my friends or family.  I figured it was my day.

One evening as I sat reading at my favorite table in the library, I saw a
young man looking at the stacks.  He was about my height and build but his
hair was black.  He was looking at the Dean Koontz novels.  I was reading
Icebound at the time.  He pulled One Door Away from Heaven from the shelf.
I hadn't read it yet, I had just discovered Koontz.  He read the dust
jacket and then stuck the book under his arm.  I couldn't look back at my
book.  I was mesmerized by the man who stood before me.

"How you like it," he asked.  I hadn't even realized he had caught me
staring.

"What," I asked thickly.  He smiled and pointed at my forgotten book.  "Oh,
yeah, it's good."

"I have read it.  I am quite a fan."  His smile radiated warmth over me.  I
could feel him from across the table.  My stomach twisted and churned but I
barely noticed.  I basked in his glow, and enjoyed his grin.

"I just started this one," I said, closing my book, and motioning for him
to sit with me.

"Oh, no, I didn't mean to interrupt you," he said, quickly, his smile
fading as he took a step back.  I panicked at the thought of him leaving
me.  I stood up and moved around the table.

"No," I said a bit too loud.  I blushed and cringed at my own voice.  The
librarian gave me a stern look.  I extended my hand to him.  "I am Brendan,
nice to meet you."

"I'm Mitch," he returned as he took my hand.  I melted at his touch, and
swam in his emerald green eyes.  I just stood holding his hand until I felt
him pull it away.

"Please sit," I said motioning to the chair across from mine.  He smiled
and pulled the chair out and sat down.  I slid down into my own chair and
fiddled with the books in front of me.  He just smiled at me and laid his
novel on the table.

"So, I don't think I have seen you in here before," I said, knowing I had
never seen this beautiful man before.  I couldn't believe I was thinking
these things.  I was unsure of what I was feeling.  It was new to me, and I
was a little confused.  I knew I felt good, but that is all I was sure of.

"No, I just moved here.  I thought I would check out the library and look
around town.  To tell the truth, I have spent most of the day looking for a
job."  He looked at me waiting for me to speak.  I sat dumbly, memorizing
his face.  The meaning of what he said sunk in, and my mind finally started
working.

"Oh; really?  Where did you move from?"  I knew there was something else in
my mind, but I couldn't focus.

"I moved here from California.  I had some things go wrong in my life and I
decided to get away.  I went as far as a bus could take me," he finished
and laughed at his little joke.  I laughed a little too, but still stared
into his eyes.  The spark of realization finally hit me, and I gasped.  He
looked up at me suddenly.

"Sorry, I just thought of something.  There is a job opening where I work.
I am sure I could get you the job.  What kind of job were you looking for?"
I sat waiting nervously for him to answer me.  He looked at me thoughtfully
before he answered.

"I'll take anything," he answered.  "What is the job?"

"Um, a quality checker on the chocolate line."  He looked at me with a
puzzled look.  I just smiled and wrote the address of the factory on a slip
of paper.  "Show up in the morning and say you're a friend of mine.  I know
the lady in personnel."

"Wow, thanks," he said as he took the slip.  His hand touched mine and we
both just smiled.