F… Fine, be late. Not.

You’re in the front room, singing. It’s that Foreigner song – I hear you, just perfectly on tune. “I’ve been waiting… for a boy like you…” you’re singing. I call across the house and correct you – “it’s ‘waiting for a girl like you…” I tell you. “You’re not REALLY correcting me, are you?” you say back.

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Image from dreamstime.com

I’m racing to get ready. I really didn’t originally want to go to our friend’s for dinner and drinks, but you can be… persuasive. I was bemoaning that I didn’t waaaaaannnntttt to… and you walked out, that sexy black lingerie was the only thing you have on.

You stopped a beat, then let your dress slide down over your head, shoulders and that body.

“Aw hell, that’s not fair….” I said.

“No, really, it’s ok. I’ll just go by myself,” you tell me. You grab your purse and head out. “Besides, the bus coming in now…” you step out the front door and disappear.

I race after you, grabbing my stuff. There is NO WAY in hell I’m missing out on this evening!

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