I lay it out for her, ready at the end of our bed before I run her a bath.
Hearing me as I run the tub, it isn’t long before she wakes up, eager to join me.
The single red rose I left for her between her teeth makes us chuckle before she seriously tells me that it’s beautiful.
“I love it,” she tells me, putting it somewhere safe, so it doesn’t get damaged. Even though I know she has three dozen more waiting for her.
A whole garden and house filled with them every day if she wants.
A few hours ago, she might have been nervous, making up a reason to go even. But now, she hugs me tight as we share a shower before soaking in the tub for a half hour.
While I’m helping her dry off and get dressed, she’s more than just a little bit excited to be going out with her arm on mine.
And when I see her in her dress. A dark green, shimmering thing that shows all of her curves and more of her than I think I could handle anyone seeing.
I make a point of deciding that we’re gonna need a private table for sure.
No fucking way I want anyone else feasting their eyes on my woman all night.
I only shrug whenever she asks where we’re going, not wanting to ruin what I thought was a lame surprise. But she actually nearly cries when I give her the roses.
“They’re just beautiful, Michael,” she sniffs, “Where did you…?” she starts to ask, but I only kiss her in reply.
Kissing away the questions. Kissing away the past.
Telling her, she’s more beautiful than any roses.
The only flower I ever wanted or needed.
Not even reminding her to take her phone or anything else once the limo messages me and I buzz them in.
I switch my own off, not wanting anything or anyone to interrupt our first real date.
The limo is waiting outside once I open the door makes her gasp, but I guess it’s no real surprise.
“I’ve never ridden in a limo before,” she says, wide-eyed and looking like it was made for her as I hold the door open for my queen.
Settling myself in next to her, I confess I’ve gone and done things back to front.
“I guess I was supposed to take you out for dinner before we did anything else,” but she shakes her head.
“Oh no, I needed that. Way more than food. But I’m starving right now,” she says, pecking my cheek and asking where we’re headed again.
“Just a little place I know,” I croon. Hoping too that the place is as good as all the reviews say.
But anywhere is perfect, as long as Vanessa’s with me.
And once we arrive at the restaurant, it’s all eyes on us as we’re shown to a private booth, the dining room area reserved for exclusive guests only.
The few disappointed faces there are looking puzzled more than anything.
A guy my size and a beauty like Vanessa on my arm. I can tell they already wonder where they know us from because surely we must be famous somehow.
I shoo the waiter, settling Vanessa into her seat myself, making sure she’s okay.
“You’re walking funny,” I noticed, telling Vanessa. “Those shoes okay with that dress?”
She discreetly whispers the real reason she can’t walk straight. Something to do with me and her earlier this afternoon.
I swell with pride, and she gives me a dreamy look.
“It feels nice,” is all she has to tell me.
Neither of us needs to order. The manager already made sure we have the best of everything, and all I have to do is signal the waiter for the next course as Vanessa and I talk like two people who’ve known each other their entire lives.
Even though we are telling each other so much about everything for the very first time, truly getting to know one another.
Just our mouths and minds are playing catch up over food I can hardly taste or smell.
Vanessa is the prettiest thing I’ve seen, ever. The only thing that really nourishes me now.
Food is just fuel. Feeding the energy I need to tell her every day from now on how much I need and want her.
“We’ve put together a very special dessert for your daughter’s birthday,” the waiter murmurs in my ear.
Once I notice Vanessa looking as full of rich food as she is as full of my seed.
“My what?” I growl, shooting the guy a fierce look before I tell him in a low tone so as not to embarrass Vanessa that she’s not my daughter.
But it’s too late for that.
She can hear us perfectly, and her face flushes red, her eyes looking down.
My anger rises so quickly. I’m sure the whole neighborhood just felt something shaking under their feet. Our waiter’s rescued by the manager, who’s quick to apologize and quicker to tell me that his waiter is new.