At last, the weekend. Time to relax, to get away from the pressures of work, of traffic, of people. Time to stay up late and to sleep in without feeling TOO guilty. Time to go out to eat at a nice restaurant, maybe a movie or play, maybe some dancing (okay, so I can't dance, so more like making a fool of myself on the dance floor). Time to spend with you.
After getting home and changing from work clothes to comfy clothes (I still don't understand why jeans aren't allowed, since no one ever really sees us. Well, no one important, anyway.), I call you to make sure that you're home and that you're not busy and that you don't already have plans for the evening. Since you don't, and wouldn't mind TOO terribly much spending the weekend with me, I throw a few things in an overnight bag (yes, I know that it's for TWO nights. Don't be so picky.) and hop back in the car, stopping and picking up a couple of bottles of wine and some other things (hope you like a good Merlot) and stop at the grocery for some steaks and stuff.
Finally finding a parking space within walking distance (hey, I'm carrying several bags here, so I'd LIKE to be closer than a mile, thank you) I make my way to your door, trying to juggle everything and ring the bell at the same time.
"Hi hon," I say when you answer the door. "you look absolutely yummy and I'd LOVEV to ravish you, but HELP!!"
Laughing, you grab the smallest bag (gee, thanks) and lead me to the kitchen to help me unpack the goodies. As soon a I drop everything (except for the wine, don't want to break the bottles), I grab you and kiss you hard and deep, pulling you close to me. As I kiss you, I run my hands down your sides, tickling you (that's what you get for taking the smallest, lightest bag), making you giggle into my mouth.
Squirming, you finally pull free from me, trying to tickle me in return, only to find yourself stopped by my hands grabbing yours, pulling you back to me.
"Miss me?" I whisper into your ear as I nibble along your earlobe and neck.
"Mmmmmmm hmmmm," you moan in reply. "Very much."
"Good," I whisper. "You're supposed to."
Laughing softly, I reluctantly release you and turn towards the wine.
"Tell you what," I say. "How about you pour us a couple of glasses of this rather fine vintage whilst I grill us up some supper?"
"Sure," you answer, grabbing my ass. "Although I already KNOW what I want for supper."
"Mmmmmmm, you do, do you?" I respond. "Well love, I need to grab some food so I can keep my strength up. I doubt that you'd be very happy if I collapsed in the middle of our love making because I didn't have anymore energy, right?"