I want to spend the night before the wedding with Bea, but she resists due to that crazy custom about seeing the bride on the day of the ceremony. I text to convince her otherwise.
Mormon Silver: I’m going to cook the love of my life dinner and cater to her needs, no matter what day or time it is.
Bea Plastique: You’re not seeing me after midnight until I walk the beach into your arms forever.
Mormon Silver: Wow!
Bea Plastique: Not a minute past midnight, Mister.
Mormon Silver: Seriously?
Bea Plastique: It’s bad luck.
Mormon Silver: It is not. Come on. I have a wonderful night planned.
Bea Plastique: You have me until 11:59.
Mormon Silver: OK, we’ll see. Come over at 7 for dinner. How does Chicken Saltimbocca sound?
Bea Plastique: Delish.
When she arrives I have the table set, candles lit, dinner simmering, honey-butter rolls browning, and Sinatra singing. I also have one more handy ditty I picked up at Hustler: a blindfold. Bea greets me with a kiss and a bottle of my favorite wine: Silver Oak.
“Honey, you didn’t have to bring anything. Let’s save this until we can have it together.”
“Doctor says Gordie and I can have a glass of wine with dinner, no problem,” she insists while she pats her little belly.
“OK, one glass with Pippino. After dinner, I have a special dessert planned. It’s going to require that you wear this,” I instruct as I show her the argyle blindfold.
“Ooh, sexy! I can’t wait.”
While dining, we chat about tomorrow’s ceremony and timing. We agreed to have something intimate with immediate family and close friends only.
“Are you ready, Lovergirl?”
“Give me ten minutes to get things ready upstairs. Be right back.”
In my master bath I fill the tub and light vanilla candles around it. I float rose petals and add scented bath salts. I have Bea’s favorite shampoo, body wash, and two loofah gloves ready. I undress, put on a robe, and return downstairs to Bea.
“OK, first you need to put this on,” I inform as I place the blindfold over her eyes with the strap under her hair. “Come with me.” I lead her upstairs. Once in my bedroom, I continue, “Now, let’s get you out of these clothes.” I kiss her, neck to toes, while undressing her. “I don’t want you to have any stress about tomorrow. Everything will be perfect, my love.”
Once naked, I lead her to my master bath. The water is trickling, and the scent is exotic. I guide her into the tub slowly. I have a tray of chocolate covered cake pops for snacking.
“Now, I’m going to wash your hair and give you a scalp massage.”
“Seems I picked the right man after all.”
“Yes, you have.”
I wash and rinse her hair, while feeding her bites of cake pops–red velvet, lemon, vanilla, and fudge.
“Ahh. I could take a nap now.”
“Not yet, Lovergirl. Scootch up and make room for Uncle M.”
I slide into the tub behind her, rub her neck and shoulders, and bathe her slowly with the loofah gloves. We top the session off with a water-sloshing lovemaking session. After soaking in our orgasmic bliss, I get out of the tub while asking her to stay. I retrieve two warm towels from my laundry room and use them to dry my love.
I honor her desires, and walk my wife-to-be out to her car with thirty minutes to spare. Taped to her driver’s side door is a gray tie, a calling card from Chris. Too late, buddy. She’s all mine.