Presidents DayPosted: February 17, 2016
They decided a month before: We’re not celebrating Valentine’s Day. So that was the plan. It was going to be just a “regular” weekend.
Saturday night they went to the dive bar to hear a mediocre cover band with Her girlfriends. She wanted to dance. He observed from a distance, Her movements captivating His thoughts, moving His desires.
He drank coffee while the girls did shots. By the time they got home, She was affectionately drunk and He was wide awake. A good combination.
They tried making love, ending up in a comical situation with a small amount of household damage and laughter. Once they recovered their senses, they actually did make love.
Sunday morning He slept in. The coffee had kept Him up for hours. She woke, laid next to him in bed, poking at His naked back. He finally stirred after a couple hours of Her prodding. They cuddled, talked, enjoyed the warmth and intimacy.
When they went downstairs, She cooked. Chicken and waffles. They talked and laughed some more. She nursed her hangover. After breakfast they spent the day in bed. A perfect Valentine’s Day they had chosen not to celebrate. They ended the day asleep by 8:30 pm.
Monday, Presidents Day, she went off to work and he sat at the computer. He had a difficult day and so did She. When She got home, He had just started cooking: Steak, twice-baked potatoes and steamed asparagus. They laughed and ate, their union shaking off the rigors of the day.
They retired to the bed again, Her head on His chest. The feel of Her against Him, in His arms, Her eyes, Her lips ignited Him once again. They made love until late, ignoring the reality of an early morning for both.
“I’m glad we chose to celebrate Presidents Day not Valentine’s” She said.