Her heart was pounding. He should have opened the envelope right now and about to follow her precise instructions—written in the most “sex-in- the-city-ish-guaranteed-to-cause-blushing-ished” style. He was to meet her at the Center on Nine Street Hotel, room #208 on Friday night at 8pm, and bring nothing but his libido.

She was taking care of the libations—and more. She signed the card, “With love, Pumpkin.” He used to call her that at one time. She hoped he’d remember. He was to knock twice and then she would open the door. Oh, and don’t forget to bring those fancy panties. They were integral to everything that would transpire. She packed her bag and realized she was shaking. This was crazy! Had she lost her mind? She even decided to leave out the snore strip and mouth guard. New territory. She would be his fantasy in every way. Slathering on lavender lotion and a new shade of wow on her lips, she sidled her shiny pedicured toes into the new purple heels to match the slinky black dress cut to there. Hailing a taxi, she was soon arranging pillows, candles and flowers in their swank suite. Trembling, barely breathing she waited for the two knocks at the door. She looked at the clock—it was 8 pm. on the dot. And then she heard them. Two knocks. This was the moment. This was hello chili peppers, good-bye oatmeal. Sidling over to the door she opened it and in an instant her sly smile turned into a horrified gasp. (TO BE CONTINUED…)

Monday, December 29th, 2008