You arrive home late after a long day at work. Your mind is reeling and your body isn't tired as you walk through the door. As you stand in the entryway, you notice that there is something different about tonight ... you can't put your finger on it, but there's something definitely different about tonight.
As you turn to set your keys on the table by the door, you notice a white gardenia lying beside a handwritten note. You do not recognize the penmanship, and you are intrigued. You open the note and it reads, "Follow your nose." It is then that you notice a sweet smell in the air that wasn't there when you left for work this morning. You place your keys on the table and lift the delicate flower from its resting place.
Slowly you inhale the sweet aroma and know that this is the smell that has permeated your house. You begin to head towards the back of the house. Slowly, while still carrying the gardenia and sniffing it, you glance down and notice the tender white petals that have been strewn across the floor. They form a path that beckons to you to follow.
Haphazard thoughts begin to race through your mind. Who has done this? How did the person get into my home? A smile begins to slowly spread across your face ... you don't care what the answer is. Each step takes you to the master bedroom where a faint light flickers.
You reach the threshold and are amazed at what you see. Gardenia petals have been scattered all over the floor of the room and the bed that has been turned down for the night. Beside the bed on the night table is a bowl with fresh cut gardenia blossoms floating in it and several candles burning alongside the bowl. You then notice that there are candles placed all over the room. There is not an empty space left.
As you stand there admiring the beauty of the room, I emerge from the bathroom dressed in a simple black, silk robe that has been tied loosely about my waist. My long hair is cascading down my back in full-bodied curls. The candlelight dancing off of the stray tendrils causes my hair to appear to be on fire. You stand there staring at me, unable to speak.
I slowly walk over to you, run my fingers up your chest until my arms wrap around your neck, and press my lips softly to yours in a tender kiss that reflects none of the desire that is boiling inside. "Hello, Erich dear," I whisper. "Would you like to freshen up?" You are unable to say anything as you nod your head in agreement. I take your hand in mine as I lead you to the bathroom. There are more flowers and candles in here, and you feel drunk from the aroma.