My Perfect Valentine

“It’s not me. It’s you,” I said, and watched the afternoon sun glistened in her glossy eyes. “I could say that it’s my fault that my feelings aren’t there anymore because I’ve lost interest, but that’s not the case at all. I still adore you, but I’ve lost that connection because you haven’t been able to give me that thing I need to keep this relationship alive. We had it once, but now it’s gone, and I’m afraid we won’t ever be able to get that back. Sorry, babe.”

Monika sniffled, ran the back of her hand under her pink nose, and shifted her weight to her other foot. After folding her thin arms over her ample chest, she said, “Why would you do this on Valentine’s Day?”

“I, uh…”

Sh*t. I had no idea it was Valentine’s Day. I totally forgot. I spent so long in my own turmoil that I had even called out of a work a couple of days because I couldn’t focus.

I dug my hands into my pockets and pawed at the floor with my foot. I couldn’t look her in the eyes any longer. I was sure she didn’t want to look at me, either, so it worked out for both of us.

“Sorry,” was all I could say, and I turned to head back to my car.

“Wait,” she said.

I paused, considering the ramifications of turning back around. If I returned to her, then I might be offering her a glimmer of hope that this could still work, but I believed there was nothing she could do that could make this better. However, was it my place to take that away from her? I didn’t want to deny her the opportunity to say what she probably needed to say. After all, I wasn’t a monster.

A cold gust caused me to shiver as I returned to her door. Her gaze seemed as icy as the wind, if not more frigid. I thought that perhaps she might lunge at me just then, slash my throat, and leave me for dead. Knowing her, it wasn’t exactly an irrational thought, but unlikely at best.

“What’s up?” I said, hoping to break the tension. It didn’t work.

“Don’t you at least want to see the Valentine’s gift I got you?”

Red alert. Stop. Turn and run. For the love of God, just get the heck out of here, I thought, but then said, “Sure.”

Okay, so maybe I was a man, and maybe I didn’t always think too clearly. Standing there on her porch with the sun warming my back and the wind nipping at my nose, I figured she wanted to show me only one thing: s*xy lingerie followed by an hour of hard, rough pillow tossing. Just the way she liked it. Just the way I liked it. What kind of man would I be if I turned down some sheet time? Obviously, I couldn’t know for sure she wanted to sweat a little, but I knew I’d regret it if I missed the opportunity to have her one last time.

I stepped beyond her into that old familiar foyer. As she closed the door, I breathed deep the apple and cinnamon scented oils she warmed over a nearby candle. Her blue canary twittered a subtle song from the niche near the kitchen, and I so wanted to say hello to him as I always did, but I didn’t feel welcome in that house anymore. I felt like a stranger in a home that I had only just visited for the first time.

“Come,” she said, and walked toward the living room. I followed her a few steps, stopping briefly to admire some of the paintings on the walls. I knew I’d never see them again, and wanted to see if I could pull anything else from them before I left. Unfortunately, I learned nothing new. Probably I would have if I had more time to gaze at them, to study the things she had painted on that taut skin. I didn’t, though, and so I continued after her unsatisfied.

Monika stopped at the basement door, put her hand on the silver handle, and smiled. When she opened the door and turned to lead the way, I wasn’t the least bit curious what she had to show me. Actually, I was entirely preoccupied watching her walk in those tight yoga pants. She may not have been able to offer that special something that I needed, but she sure as heck could turn me on like nothing else.

I never liked going down these old wooden stairs. They would bend when you stepped on them, and often they’d let out this moan with a few unnerving hard snaps. I always expected one of them to give out and I’d fall through the floor. The idea of falling didn’t bother me, though. I just didn’t want to become a pincushion for tetanus shots. Boy, did I hate needles, and that was almost enough to get me to turn back and go home. Almost.

At the bottom, she switched on the light and revealed to me a giant box covered by a red, satin sheet. Little aluminum hearts dangled from thin string above it, and there was a little folded sign that read: FOR MY LOVE, HAPPY VALENTINE’S DAY!

Double sh*t. I had no idea she had bought me something so big, and here I was, giftless and guilty. If she had wanted me to feel that way, she succeeded. I only hoped she could return it and be able to get her money back.

I said, “Sorry, babe. I can’t accept that.”

“Sure you can.”

“I don’t have anything for you.”

“It’s for us.”

“Us?”

She smiled that smile that had won me the night I met her. I wouldn’t say it was love at first sight, because there’s no such thing. It was, however, lust at first sight, that carnal need to be with someone that gets your blood pumping and your heart pounding. Right then, I felt the cool room get seriously hot, and I heard my heart thumping in my ears.

She yanked the black tie from her wrist and pulled her golden hair into a bun. She watched me for a moment with those emerald, tear drop eyes, and smiled. She ran her hands up her thighs, snagged the edge of her shirt, and pulled her top off. She hadn’t been wearing a bra, so she stood there bare-chested. Despite how warm I felt, it was obviously cold in here. Either that or she was as heated as I was. Or both.

She said, “Join me?”

I knew it was a bad idea. It always is. I mean, men can sometimes seduce women, but women can seduce men so much easier, and so you can’t often trust them. Your best bet is to say no and walk away.

I don’t really know why men get stupid when women come at them like this, but it’s always been the case. I guess maybe it exists to balance the s*xes out because I have never met a woman who didn’t use her s*xuality to gain some advantage in life, feminism be darned.

Pulling off my jacket, I finally felt how cool it was, and although I was shivering, it wasn’t because of the temperature. I was tremendously turn on, but also there was also a measure of excitement I hadn’t felt in a long time. I kicked my boots off and my shirt quickly followed.

She came to me, pressed her chest into me, and barely touched her lips to mine. I felt her tongue dancing in her mouth as she spoke to me, “Are you ready?”

“Yes,” I said, and ran my nails over the soft skin of her perfectly arched back.

Monika grabbed my belt buckle, and pulled me to the box. As we stood there, my pants throbbed as I waited impatiently for her to open the zipper. She kissed my neck, moved down to my chest, and trailed even further until she kissed my pelvis. I looked down, and watched her gently grasp the edge of the satin sheet with her fingers. She playfully bit my crotch through my jeans as she tore the sheet away, and I stared down with unequivocal love for our gift.

I said, “You didn’t.”

“I did.”

“But how?”

“It took months of planning. I wanted today to be perfect.”

“Oh, baby,” I said, my fire had reignited for her. I wasn’t sure how long that fire would last, but I knew this was what we needed to rekindle our dying relationship, a jumpstart for a new beginning. “Can I?”

“Of course.”

I kneeled next to her, and gave her a quick playful nibble on her neck. She moaned and giggled the way I always liked. She handed me a rolled up, black cloth, and the metal contents within it clinked together. She smiled, and without even looking, I knew she had found us the perfect set with which we could work.

I looked at the gagged and frightened woman in the cage next to us, smiled, and I told the woman, “Thank you.”

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