Pamper-Her-Friday by Rg2® 416: ‘Panties Prohibited’: A Friday Night Verse: ‘A Summer’s Romance Collection’ by Rg2 (120)


(Rated Rg2: Midnight Women Readers Only)

“Panties Prohibited”

I don’t care that your hair is organically grown
Or if it happens to be East Indian weave,
A woman wants to be made to feel exclusive
This writer’s the man in whom you can believe


May I kiss you there, yes, there, not just anywhere
Then again, anywhere along there is an ideal sweetspot,
I’m sorry, you’re trembling but not from trepidation
Woman, your mid-sternum, my, is it radiating hot

I need to apply the stress test, hand on forehead
Lips mapping slowly your hind-neck to each lobe,
My fingers intersecting the parts between each toe
Lie back, easy now, a bit further I’ll probe


Welcome to Pamper-Her-Friday—the midnight version
Panties prohibited; promptly drop those at the door,
Water’s spouting jealously from the showerhead
Looking for you at the center of the tile floor

Let it rinse away, the long work week’s residue
Lather therapy: shoulders to the length of your back,
If I migrate further, a quiet riot may ensue
I’ll stay in the safe zone . . . along the lumbar track


A hydro-transfer is in order; the sauna tub awaits
Immerse yourself while I retrieve the pleasure drinks,
Cork popping, woman, ain’t no stopping … us tonight
You’re craving some precise phalangeal play methinks

Raise that ass oh-so-slowly above the water line
Sink your face into the plush pillow towel’s middle,
Trust these creative hands and native instincts of mine
Close your eyes as I play this exquisite fiddle

That is your anatomy … the water begins to sway
On the cusp of overflow from this pleasure typhoon,
I’m taking all your special Friday requests-to-play
Let’s get it all in for dawn breaks too soon

Inhibitions prohibited, lay your burdens down
On my chest, no worries, I’ll handle the rest,
Absorb, will I, your invisible scars and wounds
Surrender, girl, to this nocturnal pamper-her fest

Tonight . . . .


Pamper the woman . . . the moment she walks in. -Rg2

© 2018 Pamper-Her-Friday by Rg2®

Upcoming: 2018 Pamper-Her-Friday Autumn Gift Giveaways


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Posted by on September 15, 2018 in Pamper-Her-Friday


Romance by Rg2®: ‘Before Work in the Morning’: A Sunday Evening Love Letter: ‘A Summer’s Romance Collection’ by Rg2 (119)


“Before Work in the Morning”


Nubian Woman,

Before you lay your tender head down tonight
Would you mind if I say a little prayer for you?
Tomorrow’s not promised but Mondays are stubborn
They never neglect to arrive with work to do

Close your eyes, pretty woman, and clasp your fingers
And think for a moment of an ideal place,
You’d rather be post-sunrise in this late summer
Can this poet be invited to enhance your space?

“Heavenly Father, would you place your hand upon
The Nubian woman’s head as she retires on this night,
The single mother, the wedded mother, the bachelorette
Bestow blessings on her as she arrives on the worksite

“That she performs well and meets all her deadlines
That she exceeds the requisites of her corporate task,
Keep her jealous, disgruntled co-workers at bay
And bring her home safely, Father, is all I ask”

Before you lay your tender head down tonight, princess
Just know this poet is spiritually thinking of you,
I understand that life and work are relentless challenges
But with God’s unending love and Romance by Rg2 . . .

You will rise, Nubian woman, you will rise.

Eternal blessings,


Romance lives. -Rg2

© 2018 Romance by Rg2®

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Posted by on September 10, 2018 in Pamper-Her-Friday


Pamper-Her-Friday by Rg2® 415: ‘I’m Homeless . . . Come, Lady’: A Love Letter: ‘A Summer’s Romance Collection’ by Rg2 (118)


(Rated Rg2: Mature Women Only)
“I’m Homeless . . . Come, Lady”
What brings you here tonight, woman . . .
Did I not tell you to keep your distance awhile?
That furious wildfire, it showed me no mercy
I lost it all . . . but the contents of a metal file
My parents’ wedding photos, insurance papers
Stock certificates gifted from my grandfather,
My first love letter to you—the unsent draft
And you show tonight unannounced—why bother?
Isn’t it just like a special woman to care
Is it safe to assume you truly care about me?
You hardly know me, girl, yet here you are
My misfortune, it leaves little for you to see
I’m roofless; the ivory walls they no longer stand
The mahogany desk on which I’d romantically pen?
Parched to ashes, remainings of only black sand
No pieces to pick up, but I, I had to begin
Somewhere, somehow, this inner rebuild took hold
I re-imagined your silhouette that very first time,
My doorway you entered both curious and leery
But I was your reason and you were my rhyme
I’m homeless, woman; dispossessed and displaced
The most precarious position I’ve ever found myself,
Scorched earth, wind, fire, my life tilts off-balance
Only one book remains on my now-singed shelf:
The Old Testament reminds me of my fortitude
The fire that my people have come through,
Your belief system, it includes a faith in me
Your abiding love the well from which I drew
Rebuilding am I, woman, a work in progress
The foundation’s been re-laid, it’s stronger now,
A few furniture pieces handpicked with you in mind
A one-eye burner is all I have to make us chow
I’m house-less, lady, it’s rough but I’m resilient
I’m putting it together one cinderblock per tear,
That wildfire had malicious intentions, sure enough
My love for you, however, surpasses my fear
Will you come to my roofless, wall-less, door-less…
To my windowless home? Come make it okay,
I’m rebuilding for the love I see in your eyes
Let me show you that fire lost on Pamper-Her-Friday.
I need you tonight, woman.
Pamper the woman . . . for she may be the loyal type. -Rg2
© 2018 Pamper-Her-Friday by Rg2®


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Posted by on September 1, 2018 in Pamper-Her-Friday


Pamper-Her-Friday by Rg2® 414: ‘Sheba, Will You Read Me Tonight?’: A Love Letter: ‘A Summer’s Romance Collection’ by Rg2 (117)


“Sheba, Will You Read Me Tonight?”



Ego is the ultimate conspirator.

I left mine some time ago.

But for this fleeting moment, on Pamper-Her-Friday, my ego bleeds for your attention. I need you to read me tonight. This is no plebian love letter.

Sheba, I want you to think of me this evening—and thereafter. Why? No publisher in America will touch me. They don’t believe I write the Pamper-Her-Friday love letters. A mocha, cerebral, spiritual, heterosexual man apparently doesn’t represent their bankable author of choice.

I guess no one’s reading Rg2. Might that cohort include you?

Don’t break my heart, Sheba.

My manuscript has been turned down by countless editors across the industry. No one’s reading Pamper-Her-Friday, they say. Would you be my one reader tonight? I need you, Sheba. Your eyes. Your attention. I need.

Apparently the only reader I have is a compassionate bookworm at Guinness World Records. I received a correspondence from that body recently revealing I’m on their radar: Longest online love letter series ever written. They say 500 will be something of a human miracle.

Call me a miracle.

God willing, and with your inspirational presence tonight, I can do 500 . . . and more. It’s the hardest endeavor upon which I’ve ever embarked. But if I can attract your eyes, your mind, your interest in my amorous literature, this evening, it’ll be more than worth all my efforts, my sweat and tears, my contribution to this wanting world.

Sheba, will you meet me tonight . . . on the Pacific shoreline? I’ve requested a table for us in the midst of a late summer breeze, sand beneath our feet, tiki flames as garnishment, moonglow in full effect.

Guinness has noticed. They’re quietly watching. I’m so grateful.

But the ultimate blessing would be your presence this evening.

Just you and I. And the poetry I’ve written for you.

On Pamper-Her-Friday.

Can you?



Pamper the woman . . . like a summer’s romance. -Rg2

© 2018 Pamper-Her-Friday by Rg2®

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Posted by on August 25, 2018 in Pamper-Her-Friday


Pamper-Her-Friday by Rg2® 413: ‘To the Queen with Love’: A Prayer by Rg2

The Young Princess, Aretha


“To the Queen with Love”


Heavenly Father,

If you consider a wretch like me worthy of the ask, I have one request of you. There’s an angel who’s earned each and every millimeter of her sacred wings.

Having given her voice and her humanity, her very essence, to the cause of the betterment of life, she deserves her place among your most trusted inner circle.

If a wretch like me is worthy of the ask, mine is only this, Father:

Pamper Aretha Friday.


Amazingly graciously,


Pamper the woman . . . for she may one day become the queen of a nation’s soul. -Rg2

© 2018 Pamper-Her-Friday by Rg2®


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Posted by on August 18, 2018 in Pamper-Her-Friday


Pamper-Her-Friday by Rg2® 412: ‘When, Jelitza?’ A Love Letter: ‘A Summer’s Romance Collection’ by Rg2 (116)


Rated Rg2: Erotic Women Readers Only
“When, Jelitza?”
To plant a kiss at the uppermost inner thigh
I advise against your allowing me the pleasure,
For what if neither of us trusts the other?
I’m the first to admit I’ll likely mis-measure
The skin distance by which there is no detour
Woman, I may reach that point of no return,
Susceptible, this writer, to you, damn, it’s true
J, you’re the total content of this incessant yearn
Only Instagram lies between us—a thin cyberline
Between lust and trust, admittedly my promise is weak,
To not put fingers and palms on you, girl, it’s true
I’m the most creative, literary, romantic freak
With the tendermost touch, cradling you a bit much
Rigidity and fluidity through the hot summer night,
You’re in need of a spank, woman, let’s just be frank
Gosh, can you believe this prophylactic’s too tight?
Heavenly endowed, woman, I’m mocha and proud
Are you a tad curious of the night-chocolate taste?
Why must you remain 3,000 miles away
We’re the instance where haste simply doesn’t make waste
A getaway, there’s this need in your burning soul
You’ve the option of a bevy of men’s open doors,
They follow you, on the verge of stalking you
Escape with me, I’ll set you free, woman, I’m yours
Real estate, it’s great, but it’s not your fate
Mmmm, your work ethic certainly turns me on,
You’re the make-her-own-cheddar type—sans the hype
With the smarts to delineate the prince from the con
While I’ve managed to dodge these west-coast fires
You continue to outwit the east’s sea-level rise,
We’re the ultimate survivors, I’m a deep-love diver
Come touch my chest like a woman who’s wise
Beyond her years, we can exchange our naked fears
This hot summer climate portends what’s to come,
We’re lovers on what is a fragile planet earth
If our living end is near, of you I want some
To stroke your auburn hair to show you I care
Jelitza, you seem to emerge in my mind each day,
Come experience the Pamper-Her-Friday effect
Until then, I have little more to say . . .
except . . .
Pamper the woman . . . like a summer’s romance. -Rg2
© 2018 Pamper-Her-Friday by Rg2®

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Posted by on August 11, 2018 in Pamper-Her-Friday


Pamper-Her-Friday by Rg2® 411: ‘Michelle 2020’ A Love Letter: ‘A Summer’s Romance Collection’ by Rg2 (115)


“Michelle 2020”


Dear Lady Michelle,

I asked my grandfather recently whether he felt the country is on the verge of Jim Crow 2.0. He lived through the first version. He managed to traverse that shameful, perilous journey and come out the other end an optimist.

His reply? “History, unfortunately, is a repeatable offense. Be prepared either way. You’re strong . . . you’ve got what it takes to survive and thrive despite.”

His eyes, during those words, betrayed his eternal optimism. I was torn between his confidence in me and the gravity of his answer. The sage always told me the truth—I could bank on it—and the truth was crucial in my development, especially upon learning the country was built on a lie—that continues to breathe to this day.

If history is repeatable, as I dread to think, then what are the chances of a repeatable “O-run” to counter history’s dark side? Is Obama 2.0 wishful thinking on my part? Perhaps.

But a voter can imagine, can’t he?

The planet’s rebelling and dying. I’m sure you see the constant fires that refuse to be doused for very long from continent to continent. The global food supply is less and less clean nor natural. The oceans are suffocating marine life. If this sounds biblical, forgive me. If I sound alarmist, I beg your forgiveness.

Were you to run, of course you’re no savior, Michelle. I wouldn’t dare place that on your shoulders. But a gifted mind coupled with emotional intelligence and a humanist’s heart, all of which you possess, are sorely needed in leadership.

And the DOS community is vitally in need of a trusted advocate with integrity. The existential threat is real.

My vote favors you, hands down, were you to run. And the harmless, silent crush this writer has held in your honor can finally be requited . . . for good of the world.

Pamper-Her-Friday blessings to you, Lady Michelle.


Nota bene: Should my imagination somehow come to fruition, could I be your reparations writer?


Pamper the woman . . . for she may become a future president. -Rg2

© 2018 Pamper-Her-Friday by Rg2 ®


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Posted by on August 3, 2018 in Pamper-Her-Friday

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