It seems like we have been apart for months even though I have only been away on business for three weeks. Even speaking on the telephone morning and long into the night wasn't enough. Oh sure, the sound of your voice and how we would make love over the long distance lines (I am convinced the static on the lines was caused by our hot talk), just isn't the same as being able to hold you in my arms and make long, slow and tender love together.
The meetings broke up a day ahead but I decided not to tell you but rather to fly home after talking to you in the morning as if everything was as planned and you would be picking me up at the airport the next evening. I wanted the plane to speed eastward faster but had to wait impatiently for our landing. Once I had collected my baggage from the carousel, I hailed a cab and gave him an extra $50 if he could get me home in less than half an hour.
We made it in 28 minutes flat – there wasn't much traffic at midday – and after slipping the cabbie the fare and tip, I let myself quietly in the house. There wasn't a sound anywhere so I called out but to no avail. You were obviously out.
I decided that I would surprise you and started by calling my dependable florist and ordered half a dozen red roses along with a large box of rose petals. They promised I would have them within half an hour so I ran upstairs, unpacked my bag and jumped into the shower. After a fast wash, I trimmed my beard and mustache – I know how you like it short so it tickles your pussy just right – tossed on my silk gown and ran to answer the doorbell. It was the florist on time as promised.
I went to the kitchen with the boxes and put the red roses into six of our best vases and placed one just inside the front door, and spaced the others to the base of the stairs and then from the top of the stairs to our bedroom. I filled the bedroom with scented candles and dimmed the rheostat so the lights were nice and low.
Already, the house was smelling of roses and became even more so and I strew the rose petals in a trail from the front door, up the stairs and into our bedroom. There were only a few more things to prepare for your homecoming; a bottle of chilled champagne beside our bed, our favorite sheer floor length gown for you to wear (draped over the banister at the foot of the stairs) and then the notes.
I taped a hand written note to the outside of both the front and back doors "Neither a word nor a sound!" and beside the negligee, "Put me on and follow the trail".
Just then, I heard your car returning and I turned off the hall lights – leaving only two candles burning – and ran upstairs to sit up against the headboard of our bed with the pillows fluffed up.