S is for Sewing

“Jess!” I heard my name called down the hall. He sounded frantic and I ran into the bedroom.

brass needle through red cloth button
Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

Expecting to see something wrong, I was puzzled when Ted was holding a button in his hand. “What’s wrong?”

“I lost the button on the pants that I was going to wear today for the presentation. I always do well when I wear them. Will you sew it on for me?”

Dumbfounded, I stared at him. “Seriously? Sew on your own button. You’re an adult.”

He turned red and mumbled something. “What?”

“I don’t know how to sew on a button.”

“Well, wear another pair today and I’ll show you tonight,” I said as I turned to leave.

“Please?”

I took a deep breath, pushing down my irritation, and turned to look at him. “What’s it worth?”

“Worth?”

“What will you give me to sew on the button?”

He tried to bat his eyes at me and said, “A hug and a kiss?”

“Try again.”

“My undying gratitude?”

I turned to leave. “If you want me to do it, you need to get serious and come up with a payment plan. Let me know what you decide.”

“Wait!” I lingered at the door as he thought about it.

“Dinner out tonight?”

“That’s a start.”

“And I’ll run you a bath after we get home.”

“You are getting warmer.”

“Fireplace going after you get out and wine ready for you?”

“Keep going…”

“And then I will take you to bed for however many O’s you want.”

“Hand me the pants. And go make the reservations while I do this.”

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