Monthly Archives: August 2013

image: © Lady Gooner

Meadowbrook, Calif.–6:48 p.m., Pamper-Her-Friday:

“It’s hard to imagine summer’s almost over.”

“Aw, I know. I don’t wanna think about it,” she sighs, clutching his hand tighter as if a warm-blooded vise unable–unwilling–to unlock its grip.

Passers-by and lovers-nigh, sprinkled about the thick grassy plain beneath a lazy late-noon Friday sunset, appear to be contemplating the same thoughts–where did summer go?

“It’s been so much more than I expected. Was I good company for you?”

The question takes him aback, considering they’ve been together for quite awhile, long before the turn of spring.

His sky gaze interrupted, he motions his eyes to her; she continues admiring the tangerine star which seems only a pebble’s throw from their scrawled, at-peace bodies like dual splendors in the grass.

“Nah, you haven’t been good company,” he replies flatly.

Startled, she cuts her eyes abruptly away from the sea-blue skyscape that only seconds ago held her spellbound and meets his stare, incredulous at what she’d just heard.

“You were the only company I cared to keep, all that I imagined a summer’s romance could be.” An easy smile forms to mimic the glint shone in his pupils.

A flutter onset overtakes her, a verbal reply unfindable in the moment. Ever more the vise tightens. The silence full of language.

“And what about me for you, was I good company?”

“Not bad at all,” she wryly engages him in the lover’s rope-a-dope. “But there’s only one way to know for sure.”

He looks on with suspense, incredulity his face now wears.

“Let’s see what you got . . .

” . . . for autumn.”

Their laughter fills the air as the sun sets on a very special Pamper-Her-Friday.

***

Pamper the woman . . . for all seasons. -Rg2

© 2013 Pamper-Her-Friday by Rg2®

“Undies Optional”

It’s five o’ clock on a Friday late afternoon
Work–off; mind clutter–off; undies–off,
I’m making my way there just as soon
On the balcony the music shall be soft

Instrumentally, we, your summer braids flowing free
Women of other tribes want to be you,
Breathtakingly poised in your crescent moon sarong
A nubile warrioress whose power will imbue

Me with unbridled passion and esprit
I’ve been subdued since that first summer smile,
Endless skypeversations and text intimations
Instagramming and Pinteresting me all the while

But no need for electronics tonight, my Love,
All tablets and phablets will be ceased,
Mmm, the sarong enhances your symmetry, Love
I wrote a little diddy called: “Panties Fleeced”

I submitted my RomanceWorks to the publisher
The editor says to send a photo “Pronto!
“A head shot with, preferably, a little bare chest . . . .”
Langston Hughes swag and shoulders like Rondo

But there’s a mystique to uphold, I corresponded,
. . . just awhile more so the works stand alone,
But the woman conjured images, her own set of visuals
It was then that I called your phone

To hear that one voice of authentic inspiration
who knew me when I was lost in the rough,
The dusk bonfires and flower meadow walks
Bedtime love stories recited off the cuff

Little do you know that our summer’s romance
bears resemblance to the creative manuscript,
Except the very last chapter you won’t recognize
For it is there the wine remains yet sipped

And the pampering of you, a sweet tampering of you
I’m about to set it in motion,
There are some naughties I withheld from the page
Keeping the intricacies of my devotion

Where they belong: In the solitude of our body language
So fluent is this exotic lingo,
Lay back and watch me kiss you there
The sprouting’s lush, now let it grow

Your secret garden tonight I will cultivate
Woman, I’m your designated botanist,
Just a little more open so that we can aerate
What, you wanna guide my wrist?

And trace the ridges of my abs
Shadow write your name in fingerscript,
You like? Well, be a bit more vocal
No need to remain tight-lipped

Spoken affirmations and helpless exhalations
impel my performance to the heights,
As with the panties, the sarong is optional
Tonight there are no wrongs or rights . . .

It’s Pamper-Her-Friday, Love.

***

Pampering is not optional. Ask the woman. -Rg2

© 2013 Pamper-Her-Friday by Rg2®

image: © jurassik

(Rated Rg2: Reader Discretion Advised)

“Cherrytini on Ice”

There’re times a woman just doesn’t wanna be touched
Would this be one of those nights?
Funny, I instinctively didn’t think as much
I suggest we take a few bites

Of one another . . . above the cover
We can do this either one of two ways,
You can lip crush or I can mouth melt
Let’s redefine this Pamper-Her-Friday

My, your shoulders feel so utterly tense
I can hand-weigh your stress by the pound,
Your body’s been invaded by the dreaded work grinch
But I’m the antithesis–the invader’s going down!

Tell me, where exactly does it hurt, sweetheart?
Mid-back, you say, and just below the calf,
Um K, I need you to spread arm and leg wingspans
My methodology is to pamper each half

So that exo-skeletal and epidermal envy
has no chance to take body-root,
Starting with fingertip massage of each temple
down to the arches of each foot

You know what is the global woman’s most common complaint?
A man seems incapable of taking his time,
As opposed to the effortless sexual run downhill
You desire a thoughtfully romantic climb

Of your multi-faceted, beneath-the-skin mountain
While he picks a few flowers along the way,
Mental write creative lines of poetic verse
At her mic under moonlight he can say

I’ve listened, I’ve learned, I’ve observed in earnest
I’m continually enhancing my skills,
But tonight I’m the tempest and you’re the teapot
Should we make this a test of wills?

Um, woman, you may wanna rethink that notion
on such a sensually hot summer night,
Your body I’ve got in a defenseless position
Your skin illuminated by candlelight

Here, take a sip of this soothing cherrytini
while I improvise with the fruit-cube ice,
How did you enjoy my scallop fettuccine?
I was mindful of your tolerance for spice

You feel that, Love? Let me heal that, Love
The stresses are slowly oozing away,
I’m releasing the cubed cherry down your spine’s canal
Careful now, are you sure you’re ready to play?

***

Pamper the woman . . . and her Fridays are never the same. -Rg2

© 2013 Pamper-Her-Friday by Rg2®

“More Than a Night”

Beachside service, our waiter’s a tad bit nervous
I foretold him you’re the most beautiful girl onshore,
He nodded at me with a hint of jealousy
For only I know what’s in store

Romance hasn’t done some disappearing act
no matter what the random woman may say,
About it singers still sing and writers still write
Is it human obsession or my naiveté?

While some seek Iyanla and others Dr. Phil
I’m going directly to Oprah–the source,
She and Stedman still enjoy sofa and pillow talks
The secret? When hearts align, stay the course

You can do what you want the calendar days of the year
But your Fridays belong solely to me,
This pampering thing has taken root worldwide
A quiet movement afoot and men agree

Loving and leaving breeds mistrust and disbelieving
But he must be aware of her fickleness,
There’s no guarantee that feelings won’t diminish
But let’s handle it with sensitivity and finesse

Just when we think we’re at the end of our road
Why don’t we take a spontaneous detour,
A romance path that neither of us has traveled before
may just yield new flowers and a cure

I realize there’s no such thing as the perfect love
All your fancies I won’t know exact,
But what it was that attracted you to my romantic sphere
Perhaps we could slowly re-enact

Tonight . . . I intend to make it alright
I wanna see celestial stars in your eyes,
I’ve reserved the entire Pacific shoreline for two
An idyllic setting for a summer-love reprise

So your father left home while you were just a little girl
and no man has bothered to address the hurt,
Well, my mother lost my father to a premature passing
In my heart your pain we can insert

I’ll carry it for two and for awhile make do
But, woman, the buck stops here with me,
Those fly-by-nights you’ve tolerated are a thing of the past
I’m a man of integrity

That lost attribute in a world in which
just about everyone is for sale,
This man across the table from you is not counterfeit
Go ahead, woman, and inhale

The authenticity is like a summer ocean breeze
I can sense your innards becoming moist,
The blood rush you can’t keep it on the hush
Your calling-me body I’m about to hoist

Upon me set all your chained emotions free
as I abolish your clitoral restraint,
A taste of honey will heal our wounds
a one-night endeavor this ain’t

It’s Pamper-Her-Friday on a mid-summer’s night
I’m in heaven with you on the shore,
As the tide rolls in, your eyes deepen my yen
Come with me, for there’s so much more . . . .

***

Romance lives. -Rg2

© 2013 Pamper-Her-Friday by Rg2®

(Rated Rg2: For Ladies Only)

“No Mercy . . . Tonight”

Delicate lace has its place in the
pantheon of coveted fabrics,
The common man may be impressed
though hardly, if ever, will the maverick,

Among whom there is a lone one
who drinks the blue nectar from your well,
Extension I need, separation to feed
Your urge to shed, I’m listening, pretell,

A white Stella Rose, 2006, I chose
A distinctive orphan from the vineyard tribe,
Just a little wider before I submerge thee
Woman, I’ve only begun to imbibe,

Your protracted spine I’ll lay at rest
a cathartic angle for view of the skies,
Let’s erase the lows of a forgettable week
Arousals loosed in successive highs,

Pampering alchemy I’ll reveal my concoctions
So many to introduce as we go along,
There is a right way to love a woman
The Manifesto I wrote–I’ve yet been wrong,

Tie your hair up and the contract we’ll tear up–
promising I wouldn’t induce your cries,
Of helpless bodily capitulations
from oral abandonment of your thighs,

My chosen playground, I’ve earned this slayground
Don’t dare call this unwanted temptation,
This aquatic whirl disguised as a bath
Reach below the water and palm the sensation,

Monday did this to me, it’s your fault
Tuesday I did not hear your voice,
You neglected to answer my call on Wednesday
And Thursday left me without a choice,

To make Friday the ideal moment in time
my rage erotica unleashed over you,
Now brace yourself upon my shoulders
I’m going for the ultimate breakthrough,

Howl, dammit! Scowl, dammit!
There’s only the wind and the rustling waves,
Let it all go to your lungs’ capacity
Phuck inhibition–No restraints, No saves!

Are you alright, Love? There, easy does it
Sink your head into my chest,
Taste the Stella upon your lips
Is there anything else you care to request?

A seaside serenade sung acapella
As the sunset waves a nocturnal goodbye,
You’re purring like a kitten this Pamper-Her-Friday
Am I the substance of your sigh?

***

Pamper the woman . . . like a man possessed. -Rg2

© 2013 Pamper-Her-Friday by Rg2®

“Together Fragile”

If you weren’t sighted, woman,
would you be so quick to walk away?
What if your voice were ruined to silence . . .
what then to me would you say?

No one understands their 401k
Brokers and advisers are only salesmen,
We plan for a future at today’s expense
Is there a woman alive who tells men . . .

What lurks beneath her steeled heart
is a brittleness on the cusp of pieces,
Feigning strength in the name of independence
while truth-hidden tears she releases

Tell the truth, girl, say your truth, girl:
Go on, you’re hurting as much as I,
Sure, he spoke to you but I wrote of you
I was worthy of a reply

Summer’s not suppose to be serious, I know
But our feet are dangling edge-of-pier,
As night wind sweeps the hair from your eyes
Let’s exchange: your fragile, my fear

Of wanting this moment to further foment
Not lust but trust, your hand clasped securely by mine,
Who’ll be the first to let the palm-knot go . . .
You’re squeezing, woman, is that my sign?

You’re fragile . . .
fragile, you; fragile, me,
Fragile we are
Together we’ll be.

***

Truth in Romance. -Rg2

© 2013 Romance by Rg2®