I greet you at the door. I have been waiting for you eagerly and have gone to great lengths to prepare the evening. It is all I have thought about for weeks.
You greet me sweetly, "Good evening, Princess," with a soft kiss to my smiling lips. I catch you admiring my body in my long yellow beach dress, my hair cascading over my shoulder in its natural curls, my light make-up dramatizing my eyes with a touch of gloss to my lips. Knowing that you are looking at me, I suddenly get shy and do not know what to do with my hands, so I grab yours and pull you in the door.
I laugh nervously as I brush your little curls from your eyes, resting my hands behind your neck. "You look beautiful," I tell you. And you do, with your bell-bottom jeans that I always tease you about and your white button-down shirt with blue flowers, your toes sticking out of your thongs. You do not know what I have planned, and take into account the pink candles that are spilling their light all over the room.
I reach up on my toes and kiss you, softly at first as you wrap your arms around my waist, holding me closely, pulling me into you. Slowly our kiss grows more passionate, and for a moment everything else in the world ceases to exist- it is only you and I, our tongues dancing, and I swear that we are making love this very instant.
You close the kiss and put your forehead to mine. "I love you," you mouth silently. I smile and bite my lip, wondering what it is about you that makes me more shy in your presence. I take your hand and lead you into a room with a table set for us. It, too, has pink candles, as does the floor surrounding it. You notice the pink rose petals on the glass tabletop, and look to the ground to see that they have been in your path all along. Music is playing softly, and you smile as you take into account everything that is going on.
I have made burritos, not so much because it is romantic but because I could not help but think of the clueless way you worked yourself around the kitchen when I taught you to make them so long ago. You look at me and laugh, probably thinking of all the Taco Bell runs we have made at odd hours of the morning.
We talk about nothing at all. You tell me about your day and I listen intently, rubbing my bare feet along your toes, picking up your jeans and massaging your ankles beneath the table. I tell you about an idea that I have for a movie you can make, and we begin discussing all of the clubs that GT Yelve will someday own, laughing at the thought of feeding any unwanted visitors to Las Palmas to the sharks we will have in the salt-water tank.
When our snack is finished, I get vanilla ice cream in two bowls and put the chocolate syrup, caramel, sprinkles, cherries, and whipped cream on the table. You go to town, adding a mess of everything to yours, and as I garnish mine I smile at your simple happiness. You are looking back at me with a strange expression on your face, and before I can ask what you are thinking, I am doused in whipped cream! I shriek, put chocolate syrup into my hand, and rub it onto your face and neck.
"Dude," you say to me with a mock-exasperated expression, "that was not cool."
I pick up my eyebrows and look down at myself. You laugh, then walk to my chair and pull me up to you. "No, no!" I shriek. "I don't trust you!"
You do not listen, and instead reach your lips down and begin kissing my neck softly, licking at the sugar covering my neck and chest. As soon as your mouth touches me I freeze, and I feel suddenly unstable as I fall helplessly into your arms. You hold me easily, continuing to clean me with your tongue. I reach my mouth up and start to clean the chocolate from your neck slowly. There is no where in the world I would rather be right now.
Once we have finished cleaning each other, you hold me close to you. I sit down on your lap and we feed each other the remainder of the ice cream. I then kiss you softly and stand, reaching my hand out to you. You take it and follow me.
I lead you up the stairs. Every other step is lined with pink candles, and rose petals once again lead the way.
We reach my room, and suddenly I am nervous. I want everything to be perfect, and I hope you think it is. Soft music twirls in the air like incense smoke, and there are literally hundreds of pink candles, all sorts of sizes and shapes, filling every crevasse of the room- they line the window sill, the floor, the desk, the night stand, even the wall. There are no lights on, yet the room is illuminated and glowing. The floor is surrounded with petals and two roses rest in the middle of the bed. I turn to you, waiting for a reaction of some sort. I see your eyes, open wide, moving over the details of the room.
You take my other hand, turning my body to you. I am looking at your face, but you are still absorbing your surroundings- then, you are kissing me, your lips locked into mine, hands running along my back, up my sides, holding my face in your hands. I skim your chest, your neck, your back, your butt, falling into this kiss, falling into the gravity that you emit around me, falling so much deeper in love with you with each millisecond. You sit on the bed and continue kissing me, taking my hands and placing them around your neck, leaning back so that I am on top of you. Your feet are still on the ground and my legs are straddling your hips. I am supporting myself on my elbows, one hand holding yours, our fingers intertwined. Your other hand has twisted into my hair, holding my head and controlling this kiss. It is a subtle control that you possess, but it is prevalent in every move you make and I am relaxed and trusting in your touch.
I push your head up with my nose, kissing your jawbone and nibbling your ear as I slowly unbutton your shirt, kissing down your neck, running my hands along your torso, your chest. I move down and begin kissing your body, licking your chest and sucking at your nipples. You arch your back a bit, then relax again. Your hands move down to my hips, squeezing them, making me hot with passion and desire for you. I unbutton your pants as I lick your sides, softly biting into your hip bone, scratching my nails down your stomach.