And why the hell not?
Your mind argues and wins. It’s been ages. And with a sense of triumph you launch yourself up off your bed and begin to get ready.
You’re dressing for a date. Your attention given to every detail. Your body clean and fresh, pampered from head to toe. Nails painted, polished and pedicured to perfection. Hair, salon cut, shampooed clean and conditioned, blow dried, and straightened.
The preparation becomes a game, energized with an almost teenage fun. Nothing else matters. You’re in the moment and enjoying one of the simplest of life’s pleasures. To dress up and have fun!
In minutes your bed is strewn with underwear, dresses, boots and shoes. So many choices. Whichever will it be?
Your tall bedroom mirror does its best to keep up, reflecting each option as your mind whirs with alternatives, weighing the merits of each combination, styles, colors, cuts, watching you measure your mood from a menu of choices.
From beyond the portal of your bedroom mirror, your lover wonders as he surveils you. He wants to know if you can feel his eyes following you. Seeing how good you look as you slip into your new knickers.
His eyes following your fingers, breathlessly watching you delicately draw their silky lace up over your thighs and smooth them home, hitching them onto your hips, seeing how well they hug you.
His fingers grip around his enchanted Petoskey stone, one of a pair you share, pushing the smooth stone into his palm, his eyes watering with wanting to touch and taste the imagery he sees. Your nakedness slowly slipping from his sight as you ease inside the dress you’ve chosen.
Before the mirror, you hold a new dress to your chest, rising on your toes, flexing the arches of your classical feet, pivoting through your hips, twisting from side-to-side, imagining how well this new olive green dress will fit.
Your eyes brighten, smiling, approving. Your lover feeling his loins flushing with heat. It’s as if you looking straight into his eyes, and he again he wonders, can you see him on the other side? Can you tell he’s watching you? Can you feel his eyes as they climb all over you, laden with their longing, missing you?
You look so good.