Pamper-Her-Friday by Rg2®

Of meetings, deadlines, the corporate acting–enough!
Your Puritan work ethic is unquestionable,
But, truth be told, you’re swinging from the rough
It’s time for companionship uncontestable

A man with plan in hand for a weekend bliss
We’re time-zone trotting all of Saturday,
I’ll rub your forehead–a soothing can’t-miss
Show you how I intend to love you in May:

Tomorrow we’ll take flight to Omaha for the
annual Berkshire Hathaway Shareholders meeting,
On to the Clippers-Spurs game-7 at Staples
Then Vegas: Mayweather-Pacquiao, ringside seating

Thrills mile high and celebrations ground low
I may even let you catch your breath,
I just wanna have fun with my lady, the one
And Sunday? A cruise on the Queen Elizabeth

Sunset pier walking and laughter-infused talking
A whirlwind week-ender so worth the wait,
A little outdoor shopping for items on your list
And if you wanna hold my hand, don’t hesitate

I mean, after all, it was your firm stipulation:
“Please, no public displays of affection,”
Though recently I’ve noticed little resignation
Might you’ve been masking a predilection . . .

For an emotion that truly lurks within
Doing so, woman, will eventually take its toll,
Give in to what you feel, for I honor my creed:
Pamper the woman and forever live in her soul . . .

It’s Pamper-Her-Friday, Love.

____________

***

Pamper the woman . . . one weekend at a time. -Rg2

© 2015 Pamper-Her-Friday by Rg2®

The day e-trading has rankled your nerves
Head-of-household mom duties just won’t quit,
That manuscript you can’t seem to ideally end?
Enough already, you Everywoman, come sit . . .

Your lovely self down where pampering abounds
Enter my night spa, an aqua lair of sorts,
With neo-soul on digital surround sound
My amore ship will berth at the treasure ports:

Port of the neck, port of the breasts, oh my,
the canal venturing to port of your thighs,
We’ll let the waves and ripples have their way
The jet streams are all at maximum highs

Positioning you just so, the gush and rush
of hot liquid massaging the base of the spine,
Slow-whirl flotations and methodical rotations
On those luscious toes, woman, I’m ready to dine

Mind if I gently munch on each phalange
as you attempt to contain your giggle?
There’s nothing fickle in the ways I can tickle
your fantasies, leaving no room to wiggle

Your way free of the net that is my hands
They’re actually less slippery when wet,
Succumb you will to my grips at the hips
Their release of your body, you refuse to let

As my chest turns headrest, by all means,
close your eyes . . . for a steam dream state,
Breathe in deeply then exhale it all steeply
The week’s mental clutter will soon dissipate

For edibles and libation, why, of course
French ambrosia is soon to arrive,
I remembered your fave: naked pistachios
Aphrodisiacal, they, no need to connive

Spirited bubbly that dances on the palate
Your limb language says you’re totally at ease,
Pamper-Her-Friday you’ve waited for all week
We’ll take this spa night as slow as you please . . . .

___________________

***

Pamper the woman . . . and she’s all yours. -Rg2

© 2015 Pamper-Her-Friday by Rg2®

To protect you, even resurrect in you
Something of a romantic renaissance,
Like the rebirth of the Lincoln Continental
My realm of luxurious pampering will ensconce

You, to your womanly spirits will I imbue
Chivalrous affection, sweet pleasures and such,
Hold open your door, adjust your seat
Retract the skyroof for the stars we’ll touch

The sounds of Miles on evocative horn
Bring it forward to Charlie Wilson on vocals,
Smooth roading to the picturesque Monterey
To dine and dance with the ‘Frisco Bay locals

As the paved path narrows before us
The mountainous landscapes in window-view,
Treadwheels glide as if hovering on air
As the windmills of your mind turn anew

Thinking, rethinking, reflecting, introspecting
The love decisions made in haste in the past,
No need to regret yesterday’s occurrences
Mine is the passenger seat cradling you at last

Where you belong, absolutely nothing wrong
with subjecting your heart to this safe-risk,
Yes, there is such a state of emotion
For I’m the man duly anointed to whisk

You away from the turbulence of the day
The weekend you sorely need has arrived,
We’ll follow the thruway wherever it leads
No worries, nothing about this is contrived

I want to navigate us—to any point on Earth
So long as you, your whole being, is there,
The method or mode ultimately matters little
When both driver and passenger truly care

For one another, necessity truly is the mother
of inventive romance the wise lover would say,
Oh, and I’m gifting you a tranche of Ford Motor shares
Why? My angel, it’s Pamper-Her-Friday . . . .

_____________

***

Pamper the woman . . . and forever live in her soul. -Rg2

© 2015 Pamper-Her-Friday by Rg2®

We can escape to Temecula for a wine sipping
Or a scenic drive up the Pacific Coast,
An impromptu Amtrak ride to Santa Barbara?
For an open-air dinner–I’ll propose a toast:

To Pamper-Her-Friday and a celebration
of our enduring-yet-still-new friendship,
It was just yesterday you caught my eye, it seems
So good it’s been, are we conjoined at the hip?

Some say it’s storybook, our mutual fetishism
while others quietly doubt our authenticity,
Laugh with me at their envious speculations
There is no outside chatter in my company

Is that why you keep coming back?
That’s fine, I’m not returning you to sender,
There’s a bounty of fresh water in my well
Even in drought, I’m your romantic rule-bender:

Having hoarded more than my share of hydrogen
. . . and oxygen for you to inhale me, an array
of moments with me as your sole love provider
Timeless experiences that take your breath away

Like the jewels-inside clam I hid in the sand
only footsteps from our sunset dinner site,
But of course I’ve mastered the art of the surprise
The pearls? They augur an unforgettable night

Would you open the card, there, beneath the bottle
while I pop the cork and fill our crystal flutes,
You had no idea it had been placed on our table . . .
Maybe, just maybe, the waiter was in cahoots?

No matter, I laugh, as you open the envelope
The method of delivery pales to the creative verse,
“Beneath the stars romance has found you . . .”
Just a few lines, I kept it terse

To whet your giddy, an escape from the city
Under the moon we’ll share a shoreline dance,
Enjoy every second of what promises to be
a like-no-other Pamper-Her-Friday romance.

__________

***

Pamper the woman . . . and forever live in her soul. -Rg2

© 2015 Pamper-Her-Friday by Rg2®

How ’bout a beach run, some sandcastle fun
Lovers Ditch Day at the edge of the Pacific,
The resort’s reserved, my energy’s conserved
Shoreline seats and tropical eats so terrific

What’re the chances you’ll clutch my hand
Maybe share a bevy of sunset kisses,
A barefoot race ends with you on my back
Overtaken by the springtime blisses . . .

Of time taken to indulge in one another
Reveal to me your spring-is-here wishes,
Write them out in the sand, each one
I’ll reply and share with you my riches:

A mind full of ideas, an ebullient heart
There is no place I’d rather be,
Sightseeing the waves and making footprints
Girl, I love you next to me

See the island, there, beyond the horizon?
We’ll set sail and populate it as a couple,
No worries if we’re stranded for awhile
The scenery is ideal for a nuptial . . .

To contemplate the possibilities–ahhh
The true romance presents so many,
If you care to traverse the shades of grey
At each turn, woman, I certainly have plenty

Of time for you, this love shall accrue
like flowers in rebirth in spring,
Your body’s blossoming to my touch
This is by far no ordinary fling

A new beginning, spring, and I’m winning
your mind and heart on this special day,
We’ll hold one another into the sunset
After all, it’s Pamper-Her-Friday.

_______________

***

Pamper the woman . . . with springtime romance. -Rg2

© 2015 Pamper-Her-Friday by Rg2®

Shall we begin with a white zinfandel
Lasagna’s simmering in the oven,
The freshest pecans-and-berries salad
It’s time for exclusive weekend lovin’ 

Here, angel, a pair of feather-lined slippers
But first, a thorough calcaneus rub,
Circular motions are lovely notions
We’ll dip your toes in the steamy tub

A temperature bellwether, the gentle water,
of the varying pampering degrees,
I’ve an arsenal of body therapies
I’ll start with kisses on the knees

Why there, you might ask?
They’re often the source of aches and pains,
Any sign of osteoporosis
My hands will ensure that it wanes

Musicology is my methodology
Let me grab the karaoke mic,
“What You Won’t Do For Love”–Mr. Caldwell
I’ll croon it whispery, just as you like

It’s feeding time, my artful pantomime
will thrill you with enjoyment of each bite,
Let’s have another glass of zin
There’s plenty to sate us through the night

Pampering has found you, my lovely princess
You request the song on replay?
Whatever your wish on this easy night
I’m yours . . . it’s Pamper-Her-Friday.

________________

***

Pamper the woman . . . the entire weekend. -Rg2

© 2015 Pamper-Her-Friday by Rg2®

A small, intimate theatre with little fanfare. No grand marquee at the entrance, no mass-market announcement, no mobile-phone ad push to hundreds at random.

Simply a bare, black-top stage, twin lights arrayed at its center, a romance writer and erstwhile poet standing confidently, gratefully in the middle of the room, his voice and clear mind stage-show ready. But no theatrics.

There, in the shadowy distance, a few yards from his position, is a lone spectator, a spell-bound audience of one: You.

You have 250 creative options from which to select; 250 Pamper-Her-Fridays of which you choose a handful that have set your soul afire most.

I’m at your beckoning. Your wish(es) will be my performance. Whichever background, lyric-less music is your request will be my command. Or perhaps you’d prefer live instrumental accompaniment—string or keys. Or both.

It’s your show, my lady.

I’m your performer.

A fellow audience member will soon join you—unannounced—to be seated in the chair adjacent to your own: A bouquet of Friday roses, white with crimson tips.

After the final recitation, I’ll bow to your standing ovation. And then approach you with an unexpected gift. The signed and noted copy of my novel I’ll place in your hands, along with the clutch of flowers.

If you care to hug me in the moment, overwhelmed by the performance, helplessly enchanted by the night’s events, let it be known here and now: I’m a willing receiver of your embrace.

It’s your show, my lady.

I’m your performer.

Why?

It’s Pamper-Her-Friday.

Tonight.

Yours,
Rg2