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That’s it. I’m utterly crushed.
There’s the chili oyster recipe, my secret aphrodisiac appetizer to lure him to bed. Then there’s a list of cut-out lingeries from magazines I read, since I still couldn’t decide which to pick for our first night. I also thought about which band to play to when we do it – Earth, Wind & Fire or The Isley Brothers? No, I should just go with Barry White instead. But then I love Mr. White too much to choose whichtrack to put on. And the rest of it are private entries, about him. Well, the whole thing is about him. My strangest obsession and my wildest imaginations, even after all these years we’re dating. (Well, you see, I celibate).
“Wow, you never told me you’re one wild girl,” he goofed on me.
“Whatever,” I shrugged.
“That’s my slang for promiscuous,” Mumbling my words.
He puts away the book on that page written about the time he first kissed me, and I was sexcited. Then he looks at me with that goofy smile he always had. I walked him to the door but he didn’t move. He didn’t want to leave. We’re already late for the dinner.
And guess what happens to a newlywed in the bedroom.