Coffee And Cat Litter

Precious Gifts of Love

OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERAIn the early years of our relationship, my husband overwhelmed me with romantic gestures. Like the time he convinced my apartment manager to let him in my building (supposedly, a secure facility) and filled the lobby and stairwell with balloons. And it wasn’t even my birthday. The week before our wedding, he sent me a bouquet every day with a special note. The man loved to make me themed dinners, including cocktails tailored to match the meal – always delicious, always potent. Hey, wait a minute….

Some twenty years later, he’s still got the moves. He gives me a special piece of jewelry every anniversary. On Valentine’s Day, I always receive a heart-shaped box of candy along with a card that helps me forget all the fights from the previous year. Yes, all you young things, that’s part of the happily ever after.

But over the years, he’s expanded his repertoire of love gifts. Setting up the coffee maker before bed every night. Scooping the cat litter when my son’s forgotten. Screening calls and hushing the kids so I can enjoy a Saturday nap.

I will always appreciate a romantic night on the town or a thoughtful gift. But I feel his love the most when I’m climbing into bed, wearing a ratty, granny gown and a face full of retinol repair cream and he says, “You are one sexy lady.” No, I’m one lucky lady. Have I mentioned he’s legally blind without his glasses?

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Thirty-Seven Shades of Pink

I’m one of the gazillion women who were pulled into E. L. James’ Fifty Shades Trilogy. And I mean pulled, as in I’ve never been more grateful that you can download a book at 2 a.m.

But I’ve also heard that men are reading it to see what the fuss is. Many say they’re more confused than ever about what women really want.

So guys, in the spirit of helping out couples around the world, I’ll let you in on a Dom/Sub fantasy many women secretly dream about:

He undresses her, slowly, adoring every inch of her body, telling her how beautiful, firm and sexy she is. How he loves the red dents where her jeans pinched into her muffin top. How the cellulite on her ass turns him on.

He leads her to the bed, then ties her down. Not too tight, but to show he’s in control. Next he blindfolds her, whispering, “You must trust me.”

She nods, too nervous to speak. From there, he puts on music, something dark but soothing, perhaps Chopin’s Nocturnes. The next thing she knows, she feels a strap of leather gently gliding over her body.

In a dark voice, he says, “You will do what I say, or I will punish you with this.”

Her breath catches.

“You will lie here while I make long, passionate love to you. You’re not to make any effort. Just take the pleasure I give you. Then I’ll untie you, but you will not get off this bed. You must stay and take a nap while I take the kids to the grocery store. If you get up, I’ll know, and I will punish you.”

She nods again, her pulse racing.

“After that, I’ll bring you a glass of wine, but you must stay in this room. I’ll put on the first season of “Downton Abby,” and you have to watch all the episodes. The kids and I will clean the house. If you get up and try to help, I’ll tan your hide.”

His breath caresses her ear, and in a low, sexy voice, he asks, “Do you understand?”

Her voice shakes, “Hell, yes! . . . I mean, yes, Master.”