Just like a child, Sarah woke up early on Christmas Day. Although she was 24, the same excitement tingled through her veins. Her boyfriend had hinted at a very special gift — she just knew he was going to propose — she just
knew
it.
In anticipation of their special romantic time together, Sarah had gone all out cleaning and fixing up her apartment, especially the bedroom. She could see everything in her mind's eye: they would nosh on gourmet treats a little, open their gifts, and then he would be a little nervous.
Alan would reach into his pocket and hesitate. Very slowly he would pull out the velveteen box, open it, and show her the sparkling diamond. He'd get on one knee, wish her the best Merry Christmas ever, and ask her to be his wife.
Then they'd retreat to the bedroom, where she would have set up about 100 candles, massage oil, some toys to play with, and a few other holiday treats. He'd slowly strip her down to her sexy red bra and panties and ohhhh ... what a wonderful night they would have, exploring new positions and exploding into passion like a double nova lighting up the galaxy.
Sarah cuddled herself for a moment. Yum, yum. Alan was a great lover. She had no doubt he would take her to new heights this Christmas Day.
She jumped out of bed like an FBI agent in a knife-throwing contest and whipped the linens into the laundry. Brand spanking new sheets went on. She grinned at the thought. Mmm, spanking. Whee!
She snapped her fingers and hummed a little Christmas tune as she popped open the bag of 100 tea lights. Yeah ... all of 'em. That oughta do it. The folding tables had seen better days, but she hadn't been able to afford new ones. Hopefully the scratches in the wood — she paused and smirked at the word,
wood
— would be the last thing on their minds. Hee, hee. Still, she arranged the toys and potions to cover the worst of the wear.
In the kitchen she carefully pulled the fresh roses from the fridge and a pair of vases from the cupboard. To the latter, she added half a packet of flower powder and filled the globes with lukewarm water. After stripping away the excess foliage, she arranged the stems in graduating heights. The pink and burgundy buds were perfect. They weren't too tight, and by the time she and Alan hit the feathers, they'd be in mid-bloom and perfuming the room.
Sarah ran a sink full of water and cut the stems under water. Then she fussed the flowers into place and blotted the vases with clean paper towels. One bouquet went on the bedroom bookshelf; the other, she balanced on the windowsill.
She stood back for a minute with a critical eye. Candles, roses...champagne bucket, that should be next. The hopeful bride-to-be hustled back to the kitchen and hauled out a metal mixing bowl. Okay, so it was a poor substitute, but it was the best she could do. Sarah was a clever girl. She'd saved the bottle from Thanksgiving, partly for sentimental and partly for practical reasons. Now she held it in the mixing bowl at a slight angle and filled around it with ice cubes. She stuck the whole shebang in the freezer. It barely fit.
Now — let's see. I should eat
. Stopping to eat was a pain in the ass, but it had to be done.
In the ass... Maybe!
she thought with a grin.
You never know!
Sarah downed a grapefruit impatiently and marched back into the kitchen like Kirk Douglas to the front. By god! She gave the food processor a workout, shredding carrots for the carrot cake. It was Alan's favorite. Then the potatoes knew no mercy before her French cutter.
By two in the afternoon, the smells of baking ham competed with maple-drenched yams in the baby slow cooker. Seven-layer bars held up the chocolate end of things, and a frozen green veggie huddled in the microwave, ready for nuking. The young woman was running low on energy, so she munched on a protein power bar while she shaved her legs.
In some ways this was the nicest part of the day — taking care of herself. It would be at least another ninety minutes before Alan rang the doorbell. He was the ten-minutes-late type, sometimes more, but he always showed eventually.
A tiny voice at the back of her mind said
Don't you deserve better?
She told the voice that different people had different styles and to shut the hell up, it was Christmas Day, and nobody and nothing was going to ruin her holiday. Sarah glided the razor over her mound, pulled the curtain, and turned on the shower.
Ahhh, that was nice. The hot water streamed through her long, light brown hair. For a minute her sexual fantasies and practical checklisting gave way to a different kind of daydreaming. What if the tables were turned? What if she were going to see Alan, and he had spent the day cooking and cleaning? What if his entire goal for the day was to treat her like a queen, to pamper her and think of her every need?
What a ridiculous notion. I'm the woman, and that's what women get
. The tiny voice spoke up again to say
Sarah, it's your choice
, but again, she told the guilt-monger to shut the fuck up.
By the time the doorbell rang, Sarah was clean and smooth as Elizabeth Arden. She felt supremely accomplished.
The ringing of the bell startled her a little — she must have dozed off in the La-Z-Boy. Well, so much the better. That would give her staying power later for round after round of great sex.
"Coming!"
Alan greeted her with a kiss. "For a second I thought you weren't home!"
She hung up his coat. "That's silly. Of course I'm here. Would you like a drink?"
"Pinot grigio would be nice, if you have it." He carried a large shopping bag into the living room while Sarah poured them a couple of glasses of wine.
"What's in the bag?" she teased.
"I guess we'll just have to find out now, won't we?" Alan wrinkled his nose and grinned at her.
"Yup, I guess we will."
They munched on the treats Sarah had prepared and drank wine while they opened their gifts to one another. For him, there was a wristwatch, a GPS, and a set of nice stemware.
"These are so thoughtful," he thanked her. "I'm afraid mine aren't as creative. Well, most of them," he added. He looked away and blushed a little.
"You don't have to be creative, just be yourself. That's all I ever want you to be."
"Well, okay, here goes."
His first gift to her was a large box of expensive gourmet chocolates.
"Oh, I'm sure I'll enjoy these." Sarah was getting a little tipsy, and they weren't even to the champagne dinner yet. She bit into one of the candies. It was delicious.
I can't wait to taste you, Alan.
"My next gift is small, but remember, good things come in small packages."
Sarah's heart picked up its pace as Alan reached into the shopping bag. He looked at her and rattled the gift around, as if he were searching for it at the bottom.
"Don't make me wait!" she cried. She was smiling, but her anxiety was rising.
"Close your eyes and hold out your hands."
Instantly she did so. It seemed like an hour and like a nanosecond at the same time. Alan laid the small velvet box in her hands. He steadied her hands and opened the box. The hinge popped open.
