After another sorbet, this one pineapple-lime, the waiters brought out trays of savories. We started with mesquite-broiled quail with honey sauce and graduated to succulent New Zealand lamb cutlets in mint jelly, segued to thin slices of roast beef so rare the cow was probably only injured; it must have gotten up and walked away after the operation; and finished with medallions of chateaubriand served with a bearnaise sauce so rich, it came with a pedigree. There were sidecar dishes of perfect little new potatoes, baby com, fresh peas, and green sweet potatoes simmered in butter and topped with sugar, cinnamon, raisins, and pecans. With the lamb and beef, Faust served a twenty-year-old Chateau Mouton-Rothschild; it was mysteriously dark and deliciously red. "Is this as good as a Lafitte Rothschild?" I asked. Faust just narrowed his eyes and snorted. I decided to keep my mouth shut and let him do his job. I'd concentrate on mine, which at the moment involved some sophisticated action with a knife and a fork.
For dessert-Lizard almost broke down and cried when she saw it-moist chocolate cake with sugary chocolate frosting as thick as shingles; black-chocolate ice cream with black fudge swirls; classic French chocolate ice cream with a butterfat content high enough to be illegal in California; chocolate mousse a la Bullwinkle dripping with chocolate whipped cream and crunchy chocolate sprinkles; chocolate dipped fruits: strawberries, orange slices, cherries, and peaches; and finally, an unbelievably large bowl overflowing with chocolate truffles that glimmered with holographic fantasies pressed into them. Around the edges, more flowers, and various cheeses, fruits, and sorbets, to be used as spacers. Lizard looked glassy-eyed. I was astonished and astonished and astonished again. Whatever troubling thoughts either of us might have experienced earlier in the meal were completely washed away in the overwhelming cascade of chocolate amazements that the dessert chef proudly wheeled out to us. Faust opened a bottle of thirty-year-old Chateau d'Yquem. It had so much sugar, it was viscous to the point of being a syrup. Talk about heaven-I wanted to pour it over fresh buttermilk pancakes. I was smart enough not to express this thought to Faust.
And then, suddenly-there was coffee!
Fresh coffee! Real coffee! Colombian beans! Freshly ground! I could smell it like a memory of the golden age! This had to be a branch office of heaven! The aroma was thick enough to climb! I moaned as Shaun filled the cup in front of me. The steam rose up in a delicious writhe of ecstasy. I hadn't realized how much I had missed the hard rich flavor of coffee. I was almost afraid to taste it. I just stared in amazement.
"Go ahead," Shaun urged. He was grinning like someone delivering Christmas.
I lifted the cup slowly with both hands and held it in front of me, just breathing in the incredible black fragrance. At last I took my first taste of it and nearly passed out from the intensity. "Oh, yes!" I exulted. "Yes!"
Lizard agreed. She was licking chocolate off her fingers in a gaudy display of gluttony. "Mm, this is even better than sex." She blushed as she said it.
"The evening's not over yet," I replied. "Don't make any hasty judgments."
"Look at us," she laughed. "We're acting like children."
"We're acting like pigs."
"Oink, oink, " Lizard agreed.
Captain Harbaugh acted as if death by chocolate were a common occurrence aboard her vessel. "Enjoy yourselves," she said. "There's plenty more where this came from." But both Lizard and I were certain that she had specifically ordered this extravagance as a special wedding gift for the two of us. "I'm afraid," she whispered conspiratorially, "that you're not going to be allowed to leave here until you've sampled every dessert on the cart." She lowered her voice. "Henri is very sensitive. That's him over there, holding the meat cleaver."
"You're a hard taskmaster, lady," Lizard laughed. "We'll be here all night."
Captain Harbaugh patted Lizard on the hand. "Take all the time-and all the chocolate-that you want. This is your wedding."
That was all she needed to say. Abruptly, Lizard dabbed at her eyes. "This is the best wedding I've ever had in my life." She sniffled and tried to blink back her tears. Then she looked embarrassed. Faust was just placing two large brandy snifters on the table in front of us. "I'm sorry," she wept, waving one hand in the air. "I think I'm delirious."
"I should hope so," Feist or Faust or whoever he was replied with a deadpan expression. "Otherwise, the entire evening was wasted."
When Lizard finally stopped laughing-and crying-she dabbed at her eyes one last time and put her hand to her throat. "Oh, my," she said. "Oh, my. Please, don't anybody say anything else funny. I don't think I can take any more."
Faust simply put an open bottle on the table and said, "This is a sixty-year-old Napoleon brandy from Delamane. It should be an adequate nightcap."
Lizard and I blinked at each other, astonished. "Adequate?" she asked. "That's an understatement. I can't think how the evening could have been any better."
"I can," said Faust drily. "I should have served a 1971 Niersteine Klostergarten Silvaner und Huxelrebe Trockenbeerenauslese with the chocolate instead of the Chateau d'Yquem. Unfortunately…" He sighed and looked apologetic. "Only two hundred fifty bottles of that particular TBA were ever laid down, and the last one was served to the emperor of Japan. I'm not sure he had the palate to appreciate it, but… as a matter of diplomacy-well, never mind. One does the best one can." And then he exited.
Lizard and I tried to hold back our giggles for as long as we could, but it was impossible. Even before he was gone, we both burst out laughing. And then we looked to Captain Harbaugh.
"Thank you, thank you, thank you for the dinner-and the entertainment. He is marvelous!"
"He's adequate," Captain Harbaugh admitted. "I don't think he should have mentioned the Trockenbeerenauslese myself, but… good help is so very hard to find these days." She said it absolutely deadpan, but there was a seditious twinkle in her eye. "I'm going to leave you two now. It's your wedding night. Enjoy the view up here for as long as you please. When you're ready to return to your cabin, Shaun will escort you back. If there's anything else you need, just ring this bell. Come along, Henri. I promise you, General Tirelli will not insult your chocolate avalanche. We may even have to wheel her back to her cabin."
After they left, I looked across the table at Lizard. "That is one great lady."
"You noticed that too, huh? Here, open your mouth. Try one of these-"
"Mmf. Thmt's gmmd—" After several long moallents of delicious savoring, I finally said, "You were right. I just had my first oral orgasm."
Just a little forward of the gazebo, there were three steps leading down to a sheltered love seat, where we sat and sipped the last of our coffee and gazed out at the dark Amazon night. Lizard rested her head against mine, and we rested in the afterglow of an incredible evening. "I didn't know it was possible to have this much fun with your clothes on," she said.
"Why do you think they did all this?" I asked.
Lizard didn't reply immediately. She knew the answer, she just didn't want to speak it aloud. Instead, she said, "I think… I think they just wanted to share our happiness. There isn't a lot of happiness around anymore. What little there is has to be shared."