The house is spotlessly clean, music plays low in the background, my cell phone is on silent. I’m waiting on you to get here, I fix and fluff myself and my home excited and anxiously checking out the window hoping to catch you coming up.

I hear the key that I gave you crunching the tumblers of the lock in the door.

“Hey, how was your day?” I greet you with a smile. I’m so excited to see you.

I go to retrieve my kiss. After helping you off with your coat, I fold my body into yours to get my proper greeting hugs, kisses and body squeezes. I love the feel of your hands on my body and I’ve been waiting for this. We stand for a minute, just holding each other. I feel for the beat of your heart. I inhale your scent.

I motion for you to follow me into the living room and have a seat. I hand you the remote control before I leave to make a small trip to the closet to hang up your coat and a short trip to the fridge to pick up a cold bottle of water for you to sip on.

“Are you hungry, baby?” A woman’s meal is a form of affection; at least to me.

I time my dinner preparation to be done and waiting on you by the time you got here. It’s warming in the oven, waiting on you to tell me when you are ready to eat.  I always cook things that I know are your favorites; fried cat fish, or lasagna, or coconut shrimp, and homemade garlic mashed potatoes. I had to make a special trip the store for a potato masher; but I want it to come out just right and so I did. If I don’t know how to cook something, I will find a recipe online or ask one of my lady friends to show me how to prepare it. I practice to make sure it’s good, unless you request me to cook something with short notice. I’ll warn you if it’s an experiment, but I’m more than happy to try. If that’s what you want.

“Would you like a drink, Sweetness?”

I know what you drink and there is a bottle whatever that is chilling in the fridge or waiting on top of the counter. I pull you by the hand into the kitchen where the wine bottle or either the Hennessy bottle, whichever it may be, is.

“Can you please do this for me”, I give you two wine glasses, a cork screw and the wine bottle or two brandy snifters if we’re drinking something harder. Of course I can open the bottle; but I ask you to do it anyway. The man opens the bottle and pours my glass; that’s tradition to me.

You choose where you want you to sit and you can sit absolutely anywhere you want. I’ll sit where you want me to sit; that may be next to you, or on your lap, on the couch across from you, or I may even sit on the floor at your feet.

When you’re ready to eat I’ll sit you at the dinner table; it’s already been set. You bring the wine/brandy with you and place it on the table. I announce the meal I’ve prepared and watch your expression. I cooked things you love; things that take time and more effort than normal.

I serve you before making my own plate. I make sure that you have the hot sauce, the steak sauce, or a glass of ice or an additional fork. I make sure you have what you need before I sit down to enjoy dinner with you.

We click glasses across a candle lit table.

We don’t make idle chit-chat over dinner; instead we have a vibrant conversation about a wide range of topics. We debate points and talk over each other; we disagree and we swear at each other. We laugh loud and earnestly as the wine/brandy flows.

“You’re bugged out your mind, if you think Al Sharpton gives a fuck about racial progress!”

“But you can’t say he’s crooked just because he makes a living fighting for racial progress. He can’t work at Burger King and have time to march. How would that work?”

“You’re so dam silly!”

I run your shower and I may join you in there. I rub you down with a loofah or a puff because it’s good for your skin but you’re a man and not interested in skin care. And so I do it for you. I wash your back and let you wash mine in turn. We shower so long the water turns cold. We get lost in the steam for so long that our skin is shriveled and we’re both short of breath.

I hop out the shower first to get the towels out of the dryer. They’re warm and fluffy especially so just to dry you off. I know it feels good. We talk the whole while. We smile. We laugh. We kiss.

“Are you in the mood for a backrub?” you lie across the bed and allow me to rub you into submission. I’m not doing this just for the hell of it. I knead your muscles and rub your body until you let me know you’ve had enough. You can turn around towards the television so that you can watch the game. I’ll continue rubbing you and following the game out the corner of my eye so that I can respond properly when you want to fuss and/or cheer at the TV. Just like you always do.

I ask if you want another beer and I go and get it if you do. I rub your aches and pains away until your body is liquid under my fingers. If you fall asleep I’ll be quiet so that you can peacefully sleep the night away. If you’re ‘up’ we can break night doing whatever it is that you want to do.

Let me cater to you.