The car drops you off in front of my house, it’s welcoming with its big bay window and me on the front porch with a smile. We had organized it perfectly, everyone was out of town and I flew you down with some extra miles that were about to expire. It’s warm and your light dress is perfect for the breeze.
“Stay for supper?” I ask with a grin. You kiss me and tell me you would be happy to stay for supper, then you kiss me again and tell me you’ll stay for breakfast too. I pour you a glass of lemonade and we sit on the porch unexpectedly. We talk about your flight and the weather…the small talk is killing you…you can’t wait to show me what you’re wearing under your dress. You decide to tease me and put your feet on my lap and tell me that the heels made your feet very sore. I smile, sip, and explain that while I want you to be sore, I don’t want you to be sore just yet and slip your heels off your feet and give your arches just a bit of pressure. Usually you’re ticklish on your feet, not for me though. You were teasing me about your feet being sore, but when I touch them you don’t want me to stop. We sit and smile while you finish your drink.