Tomorrow, when I come home from work, I will be exhausted. My body will ache, my mind will be fatigued. I will shuffle up my driveway, heels already in my hand, looking defeated. Oh, but when I open the door...
You'll have taken the day off to clean and the house will look immaculate. No kids. No distractions. You'll take my bag and shoes from my hands, set them in the foyer, and lead me to the master bathroom. There's already a warm bubble bath started, steam setting against the windows. You'll trace warm kisses along the curve of my neck while your hands knead slow circles into my aching shoulders and tense back. Tenderly, you'll draw my clothes off my body. I will sigh and bury my toes in the thick softness of the bath mat before you guide me into the water. It. Will. Be. Delicious.
After I've completely relaxed and shed the tension of my day, you'll take a spongeful of lather and caress my body with it, painting my breasts and stomach and arms in a foamy shade of white. You'll pull my hair down from its imprisoning clip, ease my glasses off my face, and kiss me. Just when I'm ready to melt into the water, you will disappear into the kitchen. After several moments of blessed silence, I'll close my eyes and drift off momentarily.
When I open them? I'll see a flute of champagne and a small plate with one chocolate covered strawberry. When I've revelled in this harmony for long enough (and really, is there such a thing as long enough?), you'll return with a fluffy towel, bathrobe and slippers. You'll guide me from the tub and take the time to dry my flushed skin. You'll kiss me passionately, hungrily.
And then you'll leave for the night so I can read a book and enjoy the silence.
Reader, were you expecting something else? I did say I'm MARRIED.
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