i loofah-ed my skin. i shaved my legs a little closer than usual. i doused myself with my new l’occitane blossom dew. i smeared on an extra layer of my new lush deodorant. i paid special attention to my girlie bits and felt the slight swelling as i gently cleaned with a wet wipe. i rinsed with mouthwash. i brushed my tongue.
i wanted to wear a nice pair of underpants... something a little sassy, but nothing too conservative and nothing too slutty. so i slipped into the silky black panties darren had given me for my 31st birthday. sleek with a small bow for demurity’s sake. i chose a skirt and sandals because i needed to be able to undress quickly and easily and being able to remove the sandals would also help me to measure up better.
of course, why do we ladies always exert so much consideration on our clothing when it’s going to quickly wind up in a pile on the floor anyway leaving us to huddle awkwardly, uncomfortably, and insecurely under that crisp sheet until it’s time for our breasts to be rubbed and our legs to fly up in the air?
i was asked about my lovers both past and present, as well as my lovers' lovers. did i use drugs? did i like unprotected intercourse? how old was i my first time? so many questions asked in an attempt to solidify such an intimate relationship.
and yet, i never know where to look once the fingers are lubed up and springing into action.
i asked for kleenex to remove the extra goo once it was all over and i got dressed alone while considering using the line “i bet you don’t even recognize me with my clothes on.”
it only cost $136.