What’s a Passion Cake? (N)
Before the party, there was a use for the game-room set.
There’s this curious law about showing sylphs on television. Kind of a compromise between political factions.
On The Day, when a measurable percentage of the population sylphed, some people freaked out. They couldn’t imagine that they might shrink, so they pushed the idea that sylphs had never been humans, not really. There was something about them that made them intrinsically different, so the rest of us were safe.
There was no evidence for it, but hysterical people are not big on evidence.
So tiny human-looking things are ‘exotic pets,’ now.
Some people try to reinforce this idea by keeping their pets naked at all times. Some even tried to make it a law that sylphs could NOT wear clothing. Keep them apart, keep them distant, keep them away, all that.
They didn’t quite get that passed as a law. But someone else noted that if they’re not human, rules about public decency and TV nudity standards don’t apply. So you can show naked sylphs on TV.
There was a fear, then, that someone would broadcast a naked human on TV, calling them a sylph, and breaking the law.
In the end, it was legislated that you could show a naked sylph on TV as long as you took steps to make it clear that they were a sylph.
Dad referred to it as the National Geographic Amendment to the Revised Hays Code.
When Mark arranged for Electra to interview four sylphs from a restaurant near Bear Lake, they sat, naked, in the Game Room, with all the toys and game accessories.
I had five rubber dice (six-, twelve-, and twenty-sided) for the sylphs to sit on. We filmed the hand of their manager lowering them each into place, to prove it wasn’t just a bunch of oversized props.
Two men, two women, they sat comfortably on the chairs and looked around. They seemed content enough.
I could see Electra trying to decide if she was going to hug them or not. Then I guess she decided that people who have sex for a living probably aren’t starved for physical affection.
“Okay,” she said. “So you guys are… Um… Is there are term?”
“Sylphs,” one of the guys said.
“I mean, for people who, um, perform on Passion Cakes?” she asked.
“Sex slaves,” a woman said. There was no sign that they were ashamed or uncomfortable. Electra was wigging out. She didn’t know where to look so she scrupulously kept to eye contact.
“I’m sorry, let’s start over. What are your names?”
“Blonde,” said the blonde woman.
“Redhead,” said the redheaded woman.
“Black guy,” said one of the men.
“The guy on the end,” the other man said.
“Okay,” Electra said. “Blonde, Red, Guy and End. So, what IS a Passion Cake?”
“It’s a dessert,” Red said.
“A dining experience,” Guy said.
“Two or more sylphs, usually chosen by the diners,” End said, “that perform sexual acts on a piece of pastry. The diners act as voyeurs during the sex, then they divide the pastry in order to symbolically take part in the sex.”
“And they lick the frosting off of the sylphs,” Blonde said, “thereby ACTUALLY participating in the sex.”
“And why do people do this?” my sylph asked.
“For the sex, mostly,” End said. “It gets people hot, so it’s often an anniversary thing, or a ‘let’s take our relationship to the next level’ thing, or ‘hey, we’re old enough in this state to order a passion cake’ rite of passage.”
“That’s what I’d heard,” Electra nodded. “We don’t have anyone offering Passion Cakes anywhere near here. Is there any sort of etiquette to ordering one?”
All four sylphs started to talk at once. They sorted themselves out by some sort of pecking order. Red went first.
“Well, there should be one sylphs per diner,” she said. “Otherwise, someone has to share. I’ve been handed over from one diner to another, and they always end up fighting over who gets to lick which half.”
“And there should be at least two diners,” Guy said. “One guy ordering a passion cake is creepy.”
“What about one woman?” Electra asked.
They all looked at each other. “I’ve… never seen a lone woman order a passion cake,” Guy said. “I’ve seen groups of women.”
“Never a group of guys, though,” Red said.
“Guys do it in groups,” Blonde said. “But only at a bachelor party.”
“Ah. Special catering,” End said. “But yeah, that one guy licking two sylphs clean? That’s creepy.”
“UNLESS it’s a guy who brought his pet sylph out to dinner,” Red said. “Then it’s mostly for the pet’s benefit, anyway.” They all nodded.
“Only lick your own sylph,” End said. “You pick the sylph you want to end up licking the icing off of, don’t go grabbing the other person’s sylph.”
“And don’t offer cake to the sylphs,” Blonde said. “I’ve just been face-down in the dessert. I spend all day writhing in cake and frosting. If I wanted any of that, I would take a mouthful during the sex.”
“Yeah, they think they’re being magnanimous. It’s not a tip, it’s the laziest form of compliment.”
“Yeah,” Red said. “About one diner in thirty thinks to offer real food saved from their entrée. Something savory? That’s special. A bit of steak or chicken or pasta? That’s to die for.”
“What about…” Electra paused. “What about different sweets?”
“We’re covered with sweets, sweetheart,” Blonde said.
Electra pointed over her shoulder. “But other than chocolate and buttercream… That Candyland figure is made out of Apple Jolly Ranchers. Conrad thinks that’s a pun.”
“Do you mind if…?” Red started to ask.
Guy was off his die and grabbing the Lead Pipe piece from clue. He hefted it, then tossed the Pipe Wrench to Blonde.
“Have at it,” Electra said. “He can always make more.”
Sylphs. They can skeletonize a Gingerbread Man in a matter of seconds.
We filmed their manager picking them up at the end, too, just to bookend the interview. Then I started putting stuff away while Electra sat, shaking her head. “I, uh, I think that went well.”
“Yeah, their manager liked it.”
“Even my, um, feeding them?”
“Oh, yeah. They’re going to get a rush of customers trying to smuggle in tasty off-menu treats for the sylphs.”
“I guess,” she smiled. “What’s, uh, what’s the legal age for ordering a Passion Cake, do you know?”
“Well, in Bear Lake, it’s 19,” I said.
“How do you know?”
I showed her one of the coupons the guy had given me. One free Passion Cake with any dinner order of $50 or more. Diners must all be at least 19 years of age. “He gave us twenty of these.”
She blushed, a deep red that didn’t go with her blue dress at all.
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Index
48. Logistics
50. Electra's Party