She loves her herbal and fruit teas. Peppermint. Rosehip. Apple and Cinnamon. Lemon and Ginger. This morning she is having Rosehip. And as always, as is only proper and refined, she is using her Fine Bone China teapot and a cup and saucer from the same set. She sits in the kitchen after her shower, absent-mindedly stroking a pack of cigarettes, about to enjoy the first of three cigarettes she allows herself daily. She will wait for her tea to steep before she lights up.
Her silk dressing gown is lime green, patterned with bold red flowers in thick black outlines. She reflects with serene satisfaction on the fact that lime green always looks so exquisitely dynamic on dark brown skin such as hers. She pours herself a cup of the scarlet-hued tea and while it cools she listens to the birdsong beyond the open window. It will be another bright, warm summer day. The sunlight already has that fine clear vibrancy to it.
Then he staggers sleepily into the kitchen in his blue boxers, waves absently at her and starts making himself a coffee. She examines the milkiness of his white back in the vivid morning light, his lithe, supple torso, his strong arms, and that stunning shock of snow-white hair to his square shoulders. He's a beautiful young man, she affirms to herself. However, she is none too impressed by his blasé, almost offhand greeting. She decides, in fact, that she is somewhat miffed about it, and she feels displeasure souring the edges of her countenance.
No, this will not do. Not at all. He requires a reprimand. She clears her throat. He turns to look at her with his sleepy blue eyes. He is ridiculously good looking. And he knows it. Smug bastard. Just how she likes them; handsome and smug. And a little bit rude of course, otherwise there's simply no room for improvement. And she does like her young men to be teachable.
She beckons him with a finger and he comes and stands in front of her.
"You really don't know you're alive, do you?" she asks.
"Sorry?" he mumbles.
"It's foolish, not to mention downright immoral of you, to stagger through life so utterly oblivious to the God-given splendour and beauty all around you."
"I'm sorry, I don't understand what you mean," he says with a bemused shake of his head, his dozy features crimped with a frown.
"Evidently. However," she persists, "you will need to find out very quickly."
"What are you talking about?"
"How long have we been dating?" she asks.
"About three weeks, I guess."
"Well, let me advise you, it would be foolhardy of you to think it will be for much longer if it transpires that you do not have what I'm looking for in a man."
"What's that then?"
"Essentially," she elucidates as she takes a cigarette from the pack and places it beside her lighter, "appreciation. Everything else flows from that."
"I understand," he says, reaching out and holding her hand. "You know I appreciate you."
"I'm far from clear you even appreciate what appreciation is," she says, removing her hand from his.
Obviously baffled, he shakes his head and shrugs his shoulders. "Can I finish making my coffee?" he inquires with the faintest edge of irritation in his voice.
"No, you may not," she says curtly.
He frowns, perplexed, uncertain. She loves this moment of hesitancy induced in a man when her tone hardens.
Time for a lesson.
She tugs the top of her bathrobe aside, exposing her full, mature bosom.
"Aren't these simply magnificent?" she asks, her hands stroking the heavy round undersides of her dark breasts.
He is mesmerised.
Her fingers circle her large areolae and she flicks her nipples.
"I asked you a fucking question," she says.
"Yes... yes... they are," he answers.
She slides her hands down over her tummy, opening her dressing gown further until the front panels fall either side of her hips, revealing her lap and her crossed legs. Stroking her smooth thighs, and glancing up to confirm his rapt attention, she inquires, "See how silky my legs are?"
"Yes," he says.
She can tell he is struggling to swallow, as if his mouth is drying out. She uncrosses her legs and sits with them apart to display her full dark bush in all its transcendent glory.
