Last night we had a date. I’m not sure if it was officially a “date”. We didn’t go out. We didn’t do anything out of the ordinary. I’m going to call it a date, though. We spoke on the phone in the afternoon and I made plans to meet her at her house. She sounded stressed when we talked last. I scraped my plans to make a light dinner of fish and salad and opted instead for Chicken Picatta (recipe to be posted sans-picture on my food blog) I figured something saucy and hearty would be a good comfort for the end of a hard day. I called to let her know that I would have dinner for her when she got to her place, my only request was that she bring some wine.
When she arrived dinner was ready and we ate and talked. Talking. One of the other things we decided we didn’t do enough of. We talked for real about our days. Mine was relatively boring, I’ve been working from home for the past week doing the same thing every day. Her’s was stressful. She’s working in two different labs for doctors and professors who are stretching her pretty thin, in addition to her own work load, teaching a class, and finishing her Master’s thesis. She hadn’t eaten much that day and after the second glass of wine and second scoop of mashed root vegetables she started to look more relaxed. Calm.
We retired to the bedroom, to digest and watch last week’s episode of Top Chef and afterwards fell into a mess of arms and legs before falling asleep satisfied in each other’s arms. There was sex. Amazing sex. The kind of sex you can only have when you’re truly connected to some one. It was definitely hot, and sometimes the cries of pleasure were interjected with hoots of laughter and girlish giggles. I love that kind of love-making. Where it’s sometimes unassuming and then turns into real carnal pleasure and then is tender and kind followed by the rough and tumble.
It’s a good start to our re-connecting and I have the entire weekend off. We have plans to clear out my storage space-decidedly unsexy- but I may surprise her by taking her to the Museum of Sex or a quiet dinner or a trip to Babeland. Who knows, we might just make out in the movies-totally retro and completely hot.