Tonight is the night it’s going to happen. I can barely breathe as I flit around my apartment, arranging everything just so, making it all perfect and beautiful. The purple silk swishes around my body like water, the crisp taffeta under my skirt rubbing brusquely against my thighs. Every second brings it closer, this night, this plan that I’ve created. Yes. It will all go according to plan.
Bzzt! The doorbell sounds loudly, and I nearly jump out of my skin. I buzz him in, frantically arranging the twin wine glasses on the coffee table, double-checking the CD player to make sure the right disc is lying in wait. My hands tremble as I smooth out the lines on my clothes, carefully examining my hair in the mirror by the door and then that bell rings and again I jump—I’m so jumpy normally, but even more so tonight.
I open the door. Sandy brown hair hangs in perfectly arranged wisps across his forehead. He is wearing a button-down shirt. I had asked him to wear it, wanting so much to fulfill a long-time fantasy of slowly unbuttoning a boy’s shirt as I am getting ready to make love.
Love is all I feel when I’m around him. The preparations I’ve made only seem complete when he is finally there to see them, to see how much work I’ve put into this night—this perfect night.