I am an early riser. I often get up early to jog but it is Saturday and a number of our neighbors jog on Saturday mornings. I haven't been home long and they are friendly and will want to talk. I do not want to be rude but I need a bit of space in the morning. I opt to use the treadmill in the spare bedroom.
Sar is asleep. Last night I drank wine and watched her eat chocolate cheesecake. Then we danced the tango. Talk about your public displays! There is no dance as blatant as the tango. I hold her as we move into the dance. She smells like jasmine and wild orchids and I am thinking we should do this at home in our bedroom. I have other thoughts but I cannot type those words. I pause in our dance and kiss her throat and whisper my thoughts to her. Sar's face turns pink and I am pleased that I can still make her blush.
The band continues to play and the music changes a bit from tango to something akin to flamenco. I take a step back and let my wife have the floor. Sar has not danced professionally since we were married. That is how she earned her way through college and she is still very good at it. She does an impromptu solo-- a brief one and then with a nod to the bandleader the music changes and we do the tango again. We have danced here many times. Other couples share the floor with us.
We return to our table after an hour or more of dancing and consume 2 fair sized steaks. The waiter brings more chocolate cheesecake. Sar eats some and we take the rest home. She nibbles on it in the car but I tell her I have plans for that cake. When we get home we tango again and finish the cheesecake in ways that are best left to your imagination. It doesn't take long for either of us to fall asleep.
I have finished 30 minutes on the treadmill and 200 push-ups. I am on the floor braced on my hands and toes taking a breather when a 110 pounds of silk and soft curves lands on my back. It giggles. Her giggles always fill my heart and I find myself smiling. Ride 'em Cowboy she says. I tell her I am going to turn over and do crunches. She says go for it and straddles my chest. She is wearing that lacy red thong and nothing else. I forego the crunches for another form of exercise.
It is Super Bowl Sunday. I had given a thought to flying to Jacksonville for the game. We have navy bases nearby and it is possible there would be temporary quarters available for the 2 of us to spend the weekend. My plans were halted when I realized that there were to be ceremonies at our Whidbey Island naval base out here. A new ship was to be commissioned and the brass will be in attendance. My presence is not required but it is politely requested. Considering that the request came from someone higher ranked than I am-- I chose to attend the ceremonies.
I knew Sar did not want to go but she didn't argue about it and stood by my side as we saluted the newest member of the U.S. fleet. We lunched with other officers and their wives and I stifled my laughter when Sar ate her dessert with gusto while the other ladies declined and looked on in amazement as she consumed every bite. Fortunately she did not ask for theirs. I found a very personal way to reward her when we got home and yes it included chocolate.
Today she has prepared Super Bowl snacks for those of us watching the game. A couple of us are diehard Patriots' fans and the rest of us are fans today because the Patriots' coach used to coach the Navy's team. We have a personal interest in seeing the team win. No one is rooting for the Eagles but Sar reminds us that Philly has great cheese steaks, good seafood restaurants, an outstanding art museum and the Liberty Bell. She also mentions that Smarty Jones, the horse that should have won the Kentucky Derby is from Pennsylvania. We all nod silently at her declaration but no one is brave enough to ask the imp what this has to do with football.
Once in a while I sit back and watch others watch my wife. It's enlightening. She moves around the room putting out bowls of chips and dip and nachos. One large platter is filled with raw vegetables - *chuckles* - and some tangy dip that everybody goes for. That's one way to get rid of them. They generally say something to her when she comes close. They always smile at her and some are foolish enough to tease her. One calls her a fetching serving wench. The imp raises a brow and puts a small brownie on his plate. I'm not sure if that's a tampered one or if she's just warning him.
There's a couple of kegs of beer on the deck and plenty of pop. There will be pizza later and buffalo wings and Sar made several batches of cookies - chocolate chip, peanut butter, and oatmeal raisin. She warns everyone who smokes to do it on the deck and not to stuff the dogs with snacks no matter how hard they beg. I don't know why she bothers - the dogs are big enough to help themselves and the mastiff has already had 2 beers. She's going to busy herself in another part of the house. I suspect she will go online at some point and only come back downstairs when the crowd thins out. She is the only female in a house full of sailors and marines and though she knows everyone, would rather leave us to what she calls male bonding time.
Very late that evening we have a small private supper together. I hold her on my lap and tell her this is the best part of my day. I have to laugh because she says ubetcha it is! We move upstairs and enjoy even more of the best part of our day.
I feel her leave the bed early and ask her if she is coming back soon. She says she will make breakfast and bring it back to bed. I tell her I need to kiss her first and when she is close I pull her back to bed. Breakfast can wait.
The physical side to our life is healthy and active and that is the way it should be between 2 people that love each other. Holding her hand is enough at times and cuddling on the couch while we watch TV is also satisfying. It is the contact of our bodies - the touching that is important.
Do not think for one minute that Sar is the only one on the receiving end of loving attention. The things she does to remind me that she loves me-- I think they set her apart from many others. The way she hugs me when I come home from work - sometimes, jumping into my arms-- I know she is happy I am home. And because she does this, I like to hold her on my lap as we tell each other about our day. Jumping into my arms reminds me of a funny incident. Sar did not think it was funny but to this day, I laugh when I think of it.
Early in our marriage Sar got into the habit of surprising me a couple times a week by meeting me at the door wearing something I had bought for her - usually lingerie or something skimpy. On this particular day she ran to the door and opened it and stood there wearing black stockings and high heels and nothing else. Belatedly it occurred to me that I had neglected to let her know I was bringing my commanding officer and his wife home for drinks prior to going out to dinner. Our original plans had been to meet them at the restaurant. To say they were stunned to see my beautiful wife standing naked in the doorway is an understatement. Sar slammed the door in our faces and we couldn't help it. We all burst into laughter. It took almost an hour of coaxing to get her to come out of the bedroom and when she did, she wore a dress that covered her from her neck to the ankles. We are still very friendly with that couple and all these years later they still tease her about that day. I have learned my lesson however. I always let her know if I am bringing company home.
It is chilly out but still warm for this time of year. It is a clear night and you can see the stars. This time of year when the weather is out of the ordinary we can often see the Northern Lights. Aurora Borealis they are called and they are magnificent to behold. I take Sar's hand and we go out for an evening walk. Her dogs are with us and because we are in our own neighborhood they are off lead. A cat darts into the bushes when we pass it and the dogs look but a quiet word from Sar and they stay with us. I am proud of the way she has trained them. The evening is a good one for walking and walking with my bride makes it perfect.
Sar is still asleep when I finished my morning workout. She starts to wake up when I take her into the shower. It is 1 of 2 places where we can count on being completely alone - the pets are not in our bedroom or bath. We enjoy each other - the touching, the soaping, the loving, all good.
We have a large leather armchair in the bedroom and we sit there while I dry her hair. When she tells me I am too slow and she is hungry, I remember the chocolates I hid away for her. I hand her a small box wrapped in cloth. It has been secured by gold twine and is filled with a specialty chocolate that she likes. I don't know what makes her happier - the cloth which is something she calls kimono silk, the twine which she will probably put in her thread collection or the chocolate which she can eat faster than I can blink if I don't stop her. I tell her 1 piece only so she will eat breakfast. She eats 1 slowly and her hand is reaching for another and when I say no, she says she will share it with me. I cannot deny her.
This afternoon we went to a middle school so Sar could teach a class to a hobby club. She is telling them about sculpting in metal and making quilts that are pieces of art. She has brought a few of them with her. The audience is made up of teen boys and girls and I have escorted her to be sure that they do not get out of hand. I sit in the back of the room and work on my laptop while she talks. Her dogs are close to her and alert as they always are when she is with others. They are friendly to those that approach them but their eyes do not stray far from their mistress.
Sar is a good ambassador for the textiles. She is enthusiastic about what she does and is easy talking to teenagers. They want to touch her quilts and she encourages them. I have seen her teach at the university where the students are adults and always I am surprised at her ability to charm an audience. She is good at what she does and I am proud of her accomplishments. I watch the boys staring at her and smother my laughter. If I had to bet on it I would say they are more taken with Sar than they are with her quilts. Later she tells me that some of the young girls wanted to know how we met. I said what did you say? She said she told them she read about me in a classified ad and felt sorry for me because my advertisement said that I couldn't find a date.
I made her beg for mercy when we got home.