Judy Schell stepped into the high ceilinged conference room at her Vegas hotel and was greeted by two off setting sensations: vertigo and sensuality.

She found the glaring light from the two massive chandeliers and the even spaced brass-plated wall sconces to be a bit overwhelming. For a moment, she considered putting on her sunglasses. Professional decorum and the fear of being seen as one of the eccentric buyers stopped her. The 2009 Confections Buyers and Sellers Conference was only her third such event but she was already hip to the routine. Judy played it conservatively and wanted to keep it that way.

She was there to buy the latest in chocolate and if you thought it was just candy bars and bonbons, you only saw a fraction of what the chocolate world was about. Inside the large converted conference room candy companies were there to hawk what they hoped would be the next must have chocolate delicacy. Rows and rows of sellers ran end to end with curtain dividers separating one crafter from the next. Taller dividers rose up behind interior tables to block companies positioned behind a potential rival. Generic rectangular signs on dark brown card stock bore the names of the sellers in white letters. The company set out its own fancier display to attract attention.

Judy took a small step, like dipping her toe into a rippling, swirling chocolate ocean. She was here to find items that would sell back at the small put popular eclectic diner she worked at as a buyer of extravagant items for purchase at the checkout. Now she was in Vegas and she, like many of her fellow chocolatiers, was on the hunt for anything that was offering the It candy of 2009, the DeLange South African truffle. The DeLange South African truffle was said to be the crown jewel of high end chocolates that year. It was all the talk at the Buyer’s Update mixer she went to the night before. The news didn’t catch her by surprise. She’d been reading about DeLange in the trade papers. The Wall Street Journal predicted the company would have a banner year; as the economy tanked, people would be looking for feel good gifts and chocolate was a high end contender.

DeLange didn’t seem to do anything out of the ordinary. It used cacao from Brazil, rum from the Caribbean, fruits from the Pacific Rim. In fact, sugar cane appeared to be the only indigenous ingredient from South Africa that DeLange used. Combining these elements held the secret. Many whispered about little orange men with green hair.

She visited a booth where she sampled gold chocolate coins. Standard fare. A display further down the aisle caught her eye. An Aztec pyramid, chocolate flowing down the steps from the open mouth of a god like face, intrigued her. Scattered around the base were little chocolate tiles with various Aztec images on each. She could understand the chocolate fountain but she found the authentic looking spears and arrows hanging off a fierce looking mannequin in a traditional headdress and mask a bit unnerving.

“Go ahead and try one of the squares.” the spokesman said. His blue eyes were as alluring as the chocolates.

Judy looked up and smiled. He smiled. It sparkled. Or maybe it was the glare of the lights.

The man lifted up a square of chocolate with plastic tongs and placed it on a napkin that he served to her. Judy took a moment to admire the craftsmanship. There was raised brocade that ran along the border. In the center of this square was a volcano spewing presumably a chocolate lava storm.

“Do you use a mould?” she asked.

“We use something we call a cold-pour mould. The chocolate is melted then poured into moulds chilled with liquid nitrogen. It’s an interesting process, but we think it captures a richer taste. Try it.”

Judy was surprised at his answer. She put a corner in her mouth and was surprised by how smoothly the chocolate melted over her tongue. It was almost like having a sip of hot chocolate without worrying about scalding her tongue.

“Pretty good, huh?

“We decided to go back to the roots of chocolate. The Aztecs and Mayans started harvesting it as far back as 600 A.D. So we box them in little gold card boxes and put a little bit of the history of chocolate on the bottom. We sell them in counts of four, twelve, and twenty-four. All reasonably priced so you can turn a profit without having to do an outrageous mark up.”

Judy finished the square of chocolate and in that bit of time it took to pop the rest into her mouth she calculated not the cost but whether the cliental back at the upscale diner would spring for the treat upon exiting through the gift store.

“Not what your boss wants, I take it?”

Judy cocked her head. “No. I’m afraid not. But your chocolate is very good.”

The man looked away, now appearing slightly frustrated. He took out a business card and handed it to her. Ben Fischer, Sales Associate was embossed across the front. “You have to really go out of your way to screw up chocolate. If it’s good, it should be eaten regardless of where it’s coming from or who’s making it.”he said.

She hated this part of the job, hated the rejection. And while he was right, it did seem impossible to muck up chocolate, Judy had seen it done. Sometimes she wanted to tell these guys to stick to the basics, just make a bar or a drop or a square but without the themes. Times were tough on both sides. She didn’t want to buy something she knew would sit so long on the shelves that it would get a mark down to something below cost just to get out of the store.

Judy thanked him and tucked the card in her billfold. She moved on, following the growing crowd at the end of her aisle. When she turned the corner, she saw what all the commotion was about. A large wooden three-dimensional display that was somewhere between a Rube Goldberg creation and an MC Escher etching framed a large display of dark mahogany boxes filled with chocolate samplers. Behind the table a skinny man with slicked back hair and a pencil thin moustache spoke into a clip-on microphone.

“I am happy to tell you that we at Creative Confections have secured an exclusive arrangement with DeLange Chocolates.” He paused his pitch to acknowledge the excited murmur rippling through the crowd. “I know. I know. Trust me; it is indeed better than sex.” Again, some heavier laughter and playful kidding filled the room. “Our girls will move amongst you with a sample. Please, only one per buyer. Trust me, you’ll want more but like sex, it ain’t gonna happen.” He winked. “Well, maybe for you, sir.” The laughter was getting louder. The man singled out by the pitchman looked around uncomfortably. Judy noticed he kind of glared at the pitchman who continued talking up the DeLange Truffle. “Now as our girls move about you, I’d like to introduce you to our line. We call it the Precious Commodities Market. All samplers come in hand crafted mahogany boxes with a light that goes on when the lid is lifted. Each box is made right here in the U.S. of A. That’s right. American made is the American way.” There was some heavy applause. Judy caught the irony: American made boxes with foreign made candies.

Judy popped a truffle into her mouth. There was a nice blend of creamy chocolate with a little bite from the rum. The liquor burned her tongue slightly while the chocolate offered comfort like a warm blanket. It was okay, but truth be told, she liked the Aztec guy’s chocolate much more.

“Are there any questions?” the truffle man asked. “There really shouldn’t be. I think the chocolate speaks for itself.” An arrow landed with a ‘thunk’ in the wooden frame just to the right of the man’s head. The truffle man looked up, paused, and dead panned to the audience. “Everyone’s a critic.” The uncertain laughter turned to screams when a second arrow pierced the man’s chest. His hands dropped the box of chocolate he held and he gripped at the arrow’s shaft. His legs buckled as he fell forward.