So it was Valentine's Day again, this year was going to be different for her, but every woman says that to herself every year. It was like a chorus sung every year hoping that someday some man you catch on. As she stood in front of the mirror in her bathroom with the underwear that she would never admit was so old and comfortable she could never throw it away, she brushed her hair to the side as she smiled at the prospect of the day ahead.
She lived for days like this, days where she could pull out her 'girl card' and show him what it was to be loved, show him the very great value of her personal 'cute but psycho'. She did it every date with him, but there were times in life where her 'girl card' delivered to her very special benefits. First order of the day was to execute the 'little black dress' plan on him for lunch. She had dreamed about it last week, and Valentine's Day was the perfect plan to make use of it.
As she showered, there were certain things about their relationship that she truly loved, she loved him of course, but what she truly loved was that this man was that he was versatile. He was like a swiss army knife, sleek, purposeful, she could be the boss and the toy all at the same time in the same night with him, she could float from control to being controlled with just a flick of her wrist or the blink of his eye at her. She could purr like a kitten to him and curl up next to him for an affectionate pet of his attention or she could be like ice scraping against his chest pressing him for what she so needed in life from just him.
She like being comfortable being versatile and skilful for him. That she could spend her time in the mornings skilfully in the shower choreographing what came to her in her dreams about life about things to do for him that would change her life. She loved that they were their own ecosystem that thrived on their joint experience in life, that her being happy depended on not him, but them. She often laughed at the 'happy wife, happy life' phrase but it was so true in life that she could not dismiss any interaction with him. He understood clearly that the dynamic in their relationship was dependent on her femininity and that how she played and thought and reasoned with this man cultivated a garden of Eden for her in ways, fertile ground for her development in life. She definitely did not need him, but she knew very clearly that without each other life's palette was very bland.
As she stepped out of the shower, and dried, she started her opera, to prepare. It was first order of the day, lunch with him to show him that Valentine's Day was one of the most important days he will experience in his life. She did not often get to go to his office, but when she did, she loved it, it was like entering a cave of treasures.
She finished off the outfit with black heels, not steep ones, but subtle, almost too small to be classified as stilettos, black caged lace stockings from his favorite store. They were perfect, it seems she had spent years of her life searching for the heels, the dress, the stockings that would put her at the proper angle and approach for the proper kiss for the proper gentleman in her life. Today she was walking on them approaching him with purpose. She snapped a selfie and texted it to her friend Jenifer that had helped her find the shoes before she left the apartment. She labeled it 'love assassin'. Black leather heels, little black purse, black stockings, deep red lips, long red nails shined and buffed to perfection, black pill hat that accented the perfect feminine shape of her head. She had put months into finding the hat, so that removing it in his office while waiting for him would create a shear panic. The warm granite of her eyes underneath her lashes was enough to destroy anything in her path this morning, but they were just for him today. Her grey flannel coat and Fendi scarf defended her from any of the cold this February day tried to put on her.
People in the world were lucky that she was a good woman, because if she would have walked on the street without her gloves, with her nails, and legs, and hair, and eyes, she would have created a large wake of dead bodies as she walked through the city. She gracefully spared everyone that morning, for her focus was his weakness. She was a bomb, 'dynamite with a laser beam' so to say, and as she walked into his office, people could see and actually feel her ticking down to detonation.
She loved seeing him at his office as much as the trip there was strenuous. He was not the CEO, just another trader, a dark small office, no windows, just flat screens, black leather furniture, and chrome, lots of chrome. Besides the screens, on his desk were just a few things, a sliver bull and bear mock fighting, and most importantly a small silver frame of her photo blowing him a kiss with her full red lips in her favorite red lingerie. Her purpose in life was of course multidimensional, but she loved to come to his office and see that among the screens and the flashing numbers and chaotic news she was there for him, on his mind.
