Rated Rg2: Romance Confidential, Extremely Private
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My Love,
Someone’s got to have integrity.
There was an unexpected knock at my door last night. I didn’t bother peering through the peephole nor asking for her name within earshot.
I kept her faceless, nameless. She was uninvited. How’d I know it was a woman? The decibel of the knock–uninquisitive, unurgent, provocative.
I stood there momentarily, silently. I imagine she did, too. I heard no walk-away shoesteps. I could feel, I could interpret her intentions. Even separated by the locked door, her longings were palpable.
I didn’t answer. Didn’t open the door. Just stared at the deadbolt.
Someone’s got to have integrity.
One more wrap on my door and I turned my back to it. Stood there and fought my vulnerability, stood toe-to-toe with my anatomical on-the-verges–heart throbs rapid, pulse quickened, mind racing to the quixotic fantasy standing, waiting, lustfully at my doorstep.
A man is weak, so most women swear by. A bachelor even weaker, no?
“Don’t turn down money; Don’t turn down a woman”–the unwritten but to-the-death ascribed man-code. The Player’s Manifesto? I know each clause, each stipulation, each line like my times tables. Hell, I’m a co-author.
But I stood there. Wordless. Actionless. I imagine she did, too . . . for awhile. I heard no walk-away footsteps. We stood the door down. Perhaps she was daring me to open. Perhaps I was daring her to knuckletap once more.
And she did.
But I didn’t.
Why? Because.
Because, as utterly enticing, as tantalizingly provocative, as daringly, lusciously sweet as the low-hanging fruit waiting outside the door–her fragrance somehow wafting sneakily and entrancingly and batingly through the seams of the jambs; her wantings and longings and take-me-as-you-want-me’s seemingly haunting me through the door’s minute pores–as mesmerizingly tempting as the uninvited guest was outside my entryway . . .
. . . she wasn’t you.
You know where my mind escaped to in that very moment?
The lake.
You and I on the lake to usher in spring. Homemade hand-carved, honey-glazed turkey breast sandwiches; spring-mix, fruit-infused salad; Woodbridge, Calif.-sourced almond champagne; and (your idea) custom-baked red velvet/cream cheese cupcakes.
Yeah, I didn’t answer the door.
I’m going to the lake instead. With you.
On Pamper-Her-Friday.
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Romance lives. -Rg2
© 2013 Pamper-Her-Friday by Rg2®
Pamper-Her-Friday by Rg2® 