She leads you into her home, a fragrant lightly-baked gingerbread. It's warm and dark, and the inside smells like sugar. She turns, and you embrace, desperately grasping at her yeasty, yielding flesh. You kiss, and the world upends, as molten sugar surges through every receptor in your body. She's neurological crack, and you can never get enough of her. You consume every inch of her, repeatedly.
You live forever in the warm, floured embrace of Grandma Nutt. Her first name is Jill.
