The cooking was going well, everything I chose was turning out. I was using old favorite recipes just so I would not fail. We had been on several dates so I was pretty sure I knew his taste. The house smelled of my favorite chicken, red potato, asparagus and garlic casserole. The bread was wrapped and ready to bake and the unbaked apple crisp sat to the side ready to be popped in the oven at a moment's notice.
I smiled as I looked the dining room over. A crisply ironed red tablecloth, off white cloth napkins in napkin rings I had beaded myself. Silver chargers with black plates on top. Silverware arranged perfectly. Hurricane candle holders with off white candles in them sat with a box of wooden matches on the side.
The bedroom was just as beautiful, clean pressed linen on the bed, a pretty deep brown jacquard comforter, with both matching and contrasting pillows atop. Everything was dusted, vacuumed and cleaned. Old magazines I was saving for a recipe or two were thrown out; mismatched socks I had in a basket were finally matched and put away.
I was amazed at how I had become lazy with just being by myself. It seemed as if there was no direction. I had thought to myself "why bother with so many details, he is gone and you only did this because it pleased him." But now as I look around at the sparkling clean floors, washed windows, pressed linens, and clean bathroom I hung my head a bit. I was shameful that I did not realize I kept the place clean for me also. Everything seemed to be hinged on him, or the memory of him, the very thought. I had used the loss of him as an excuse to be lazy, I mean, I was not a slob by any means, just not attentive, regarding specific things, to the degree I was before.
I jumped in the shower while the casserole baked. I had shaved my legs the night before so knew it would not take long. Within minutes I was clean and ready to get dressed. I decided to let my hair dry naturally and only wear a pale pink lipstick. A grin came over my face as I looked at the clothes I had chosen. First I slipped on the black lace bra. After hooking the back of it up I stood at the mirror, one hand cupping the fabric while the other hand pulled and shifted my breast. Then I shifted the other breast in the same manner. As I looked down I admired the black lace on my pale skin, I stroked the top of my breast with light fingertips and felt a wave of adrenaline shoot through my body. I looked in the mirror and decided not enough cleavage was showing so I once again shifted my breasts. As I looked again at my image I decided the cleavage looked just right then I caught sight of the clock and decided to stop wasting my time. I quickly slipped on the matching g string panties, and then hooked the garter belt at the back of my waist. I slipped on the black lace topped nylons one at a time, then hooked the garters to them. I walked to the closet and grabbed the slinky red dress I bought just for this occasion. I slipped it over my head, pushed my arms through and tugged it a few times into place. I walked to the mirror and turned slightly to look at my rear and rolled my eyes; maybe the dress in black would have made it look skinnier, too late, no time to dawdle! The pendulum clock reminded me I had 15 minutes left. I slipped on my favorite heels, buckled the ankle straps and walked to the kitchen.
Once I had pulled the casserole out and threw the bread in to warm I had a change of heart. If I was going to show him my kinky side I better wear the boots. I knew him pretty well yet was unsure...heels or boots, heels...boots...heels? What a dilemma every woman should have! I unbuckled one shoe and slipped the boot on, pulling the cool leather up over my knee. As I stood at the mirror again there was the knock!
"Just a minute" I hollered as I threw the boot off and undid the other heel. I ran to the door in just my stocking feet, and greeted him with a smile.
I did a mental check of myself, hoping not to come on to strong after such a stammered greeting of "Hello there, I thought 6:30 would never come!" He smiled as he watched me try to recover. He leaned into my mouth and kissed me and I could feel his smile grow. My eyes were shut, enjoying the moment when a scent of sweet roses wafted into my nostrils making me pull back in surprise. A small tear formed in my eye as I saw the pale lavender color of them. My heart leapt as I thought "he remembered!!!"
I said thank you, grinning from ear to ear as I walked to the kitchen to place them in a vase. I pulled the flowers to my nose and let the tear fall onto them. After trimming the stems at an angle then arranging them in the vase I turned only to see him looking at my stocking feet. He was doing more than looking though, he was staring intently. I lowered my eyes to the roses so he would notice that I caught sight of his intent look.
As I walked toward him he backed up to let me by only to make a guttural moan at me in passing. I slowed to hear him as he made the sound again. The painful bolt of adrenaline that shot through me was most wondrous as I felt my panties dampen. I kept walking and busying myself, asking if he was hungry. I think he answered me, maybe even said he was starving, I actually don't remember his words, just the smoothness of his tone.
He excused himself to wash up so I hurriedly set the food on the table and then ran back in to put the apple crisp in the oven. As I was reaching in the drawer for the corkscrew he breathed on my neck. Startled, the corkscrew seemed to leap from my hands as I squeaked in surprise. I bent to pick it up and he did not move, my butt rubbing against his crotch. Again I heard that guttural moan and this time I shuddered when adrenaline provoked my wetness to attention.
I wanted this night to last so I painfully pushed past the desire and washed the corkscrew, grabbed the bottle of wine and turned to coax him into the dinner table with a smile. He followed eagerly and offered to open and pour the wine while I served dinner.