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Pamper-Her-Friday by Rg2® 167: Love Letter from a Summer Romantic

24 May
Angsana Bintan Resort

Angsana Bintan Resort

 

Marina del Luna, Calif.–3:09 a.m., Pamper-Her-Friday:

___________________________________________________________________________________________

My Angel,

I’m getting ‘summeritis’ and you’re the source of the contagion, woman.

I’m not sure when exactly it set in but it surfaced in full revelation late last night while I slept and wouldn’t let go of me ’til dawn’s break.

Did you put hands on me–vicariously? I rolled over about 2:57 a.m. and found the second pillow, startlingly, eerily, unruffled, untouched, no head impression or crater, no stray strings of locks adorning the case’s surface as evidence of a woman’s company.

Not only was the underside of the pillow cool, its topside was just as. We know a man, a bachelor, can become lonesome, whether by choice or by happenstance. But what about a pillow?

Can a pillow cry out for warmth (selective warmth), for a woman’s fragrance, for the tenderness of her facial skin that makes its comfort-her job worthwhile? A pillow should earn its money, no?

I kid you not: The pillow looked at my still-half-sleep eyes and I looked back at it and, I swear, it seemed to say, “We’re both lonely, man, and summer’s only a few sunrises and sunsets away . . . whatchu gonna do?”

I rubbed my eyes and brushed aside my pre-dawn imagination. I grabbed the pillow and tucked it about midway between my chest and belly . . . and, as only a creative romance writer can–his untamed mind ever spinning–I entertained the craziest notion: What if they stopped manufacturing pillows–worldwide?

What if people have consumed all the pillows ever made and no more components exist to make anymore, like using up a precious resource–fresh water?–and the planet has no more to give?

Damn, what did the cavewomen and cavemen do, pre-pillow manufacturing?

You know what you’d have to resort to? A man’s chest. Um hum, the perfect pillow substitute.

At 3:04 a.m., having lost the desire for sleep, I peered through my window blind slats to take gaze at the last of spring’s morning dew and a striking crescent moon. The ‘-itis’ had me. Summeritis has taken over.

And you? Has summeritis snuck up on you, woman, instigating a blend of restlessness and romance?

Are you sleeping a little less in anticipation? Has the ‘-itis’ permeated you as it has me? Am I the contagion?

My chest? Your head upon . . . .

My torso? Your legs wrapped around . . . .

I’ve got summeritis, Love. It set in early this morning, pre-dawn.

On Pamper-Her-Friday.

You ready?

__________________________________________________________________________________________

***

Pamper the woman . . . like a Summer’s Romance. -Rg2

© 2013 Pamper-Her-Friday by Rg2®

 

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Posted by on May 24, 2013 in Pamper-Her-Friday

 

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