i've been cooking all day. i've lost myself in anticipation. dicing each vegetable thinking exactly how it will look as it passes your sensuous lips, seeing the movement of the smooth lines of your jaw as you chew. making sure the steamed clams are moist enough i'm unable to stop myself from thinking about other juices, mine and yours. i'm going to prepare every sip and morsel myself. but i've hired a waiter to serve us. so that we can concentrate on our enjoyment. i've given just as much attention to the placement of things around the room. candles where they'll light enough but also not light other spots. treats for all our senses placed at convenient locations all through the house. chocolates and other tastes, silks and velvets to touch, soft and approachable visual images, incense and scented oils, and music. how many hours have i spent selecting music? lilting string concertos, sultry saxophone solos, occasional island steel drum pieces, all linked so that i merely need to hit start. now it's time to dress.
everything is set and i'm standing in the middle of the room looking around a final checklist as the doorbell rings. opening the door i'm stunned. you've obviously given just as much attention to your ensemble as i have to our environment. a spaghetti strapped sequined gown, in red, an antique black lace wrap, stockings and heels. your hair is pulled up in a down way, that is, it is restrained in such a way as to appear ready to fall any second. i take your hand and bring you into the room. watching your face near to tears to see your appreciation as you note all the things i've done here. when you look at me and smile i melt inside. (as if i don't melt inside every time you smile at me.) i'd hit the start for the music as i went to the door and now the delay i'd set ends and a subtle waltz swells into our ears. timing has always been our treasure. you drift into my arms as i pause for you and it's impossible to say exactly where the walking stops and the dancing begins.
dinner finished, we linger over our napkins and chat about nothing and everything. idle hopes and wishes, passionate dreams. the music shifts through sultry saxophone to lyrical violin melodies and on to syncopated steel drum rhythms. with our brandy we move to the nest of pillows by the fireplace, which i deftly ignite with one match. the aroma of cedar logs mixing with the vanilla candles and the lavender oils. the game i laid out earlier amuses us for a while. it's very simple really, as we move around the five pointed star board we have to talk about various aspects of our personal lives; professional, economic, romantic, geographic or family. the twist is that there is a four sided die that we roll to tell us to talk on that subject in terms of; greatest regret, favorite fantasy, proudest moment or funniest circumstance. "do you like this game?" i ask... "i designed it myself." oddly we seem to be ending up on sexual spaces often. "no, really, the dice are not loaded", i protest.
as the fire burns low and the candles start going out i reach around you to get a remote control, which i point at the drapes. they roll silently away revealing a two story picture window framing the milky way. a meteor streaks across the sky turning white then red then green and breaking into pieces at the end. you gasp and lean back into the cushions. finding yourself nestled into the curve of my arm. as you look at me and smile i say; "the beauty of the stars pales next to the company i have tonight." and i kiss you.
"you grin impishly and say; "i was wondering when you'd get around to that." "i, ah, but, um, i, ah, i didn't, er" i start stammering and i turn bright red. but you hush me, placing your fingertips gently against my lips. then tracing them through the edges of my beard and over my ear. curling finally around my neck you pull me in to kiss you again. lingering and sweet. our lips blending as one flesh. our shared breath having an aroma of it's own. and so we snuggle closer together and sit quietly, watching the panoply of the stars and hearing the music of the spheres. your cheek on my shoulder and my right arm around your back. our fingertips seemingly of their own will begin to explore the skin of each other....
