When She Decided To Tempt A Man…..

‘I believe someone has my shirt’ you speak in a slow drawl, removing one earphone piece from my ear and drawing me in closer.

As they sat across the table, he clenched his fist tight. ‘You can never tempt me’ he said angrily.

‘Oh really?!’ she retorted, equally fiercely. Her legs, they spread apart ever so slowly and slightly, a movement not missed by his quick eye. His breath became shallow… and her eyes narrow…

‘So you return from work, and the house smells of your favourite curry…’ she says huskily, clearing her throat, ‘I never realise when you crept up from behind, and hugged me tight with a peck on my neck, smelling my hair in the embrace.’

‘Chicken curry is ready, and I want you to taste it… but the office shirt might get soiled, so I help you out of it… and then give you a whack on your behind to leave the kitchen and go watch TV while I get the dinner served. Out in the living room, you get so busy watching sports that I need to feed you the chicken leg…. Which you savour… slowly but surely…’

‘Now is my turn to suckle on the bone… and as I slowly do that making a deliberate sound to get your attention… you can’t help but notice me from the side of your eye.’

‘Oh, chuck the TV!’ You say, as you carry me to the bedroom, with me nuzzling into your chest. Throwing me on the bed, the next ten minutes is such a tease, till we both cannot take it any longer, and the day just melts in minutes.

When is going once ever enough for us…but tonight we are particularly feisty… so how many times did we go? Twice? Thrice? More? Who wants to even keep count…

As morning rays of sun tickle the eye through the skylight… I wake up and watch you sleeping contented… my favourite sight in the whole world… My man sleeping spent but peaceful….you are such a child…

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I wake up quietly and tip toe across the room, only to find your shirt to wear and nothing more… not wanting to wake you up, I slip into it. Anyways, it smells of you, so….

Putting my earphones on, not wanting to wake you up and moving to ‘our’ song, I prepare for making pancakes as I know you will wake up famished. And as I get busy whipping up a couple of them, I never realise when you wake up and find you standing at the door watching….

‘I believe someone has my shirt’ you speak in a slow drawl, removing one earphone piece from my ear and drawing me in closer. Arms around your neck as I bite your nose, and wish you a good morning, standing on your feet and the morning greeting gets longer than expected. The pancake behind on the stove continues to sizzle…

Sitting me on the kitchen slab, the greeting continues, until I tell you that my behind is cold, when you place your hands (oh, those hands….) under me to protect and draw me closer…

‘Hey, pancake!!!’ I suddenly remember! ‘What would you like it with? Chocolate, honey, maple syrup or……..’ but you never let me finish the sentence, and my laughter echoes in the house as you fling me across the shoulder with a firm but gentle pat on my behind.

First published here.

Image via Unsplash

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