She comes by every Tuesday night. Same time, same place. I’ve forgotten when exactly it started, but there’s now a scripted familiarity to this ritual, as if it were some kind of choreographed dance.

She excites me, and it’s always an immersive, sensual experience. Sometimes she’s spicy, sometimes she’s sweet. Most of the time she’s cheesy, with her hard shell giving way to a warm, soft interior which crumbles at the slightest touch.

The regularity of our little arrangement stirs up something Pavlovian in me, and whatever it is I’m doing on Monday evening, I’m already drooling in anticipation of our secret Tuesday rendezvous.

I can’t share, I won’t share; for I simply cannot get enough of her — this sexy little Mexican mamacita, whose name is Taco.