Thanksgiving has been and gone, leaving a few covered dishes of mystery food, which my Beloved insists we finish before any additional hunting/gathering. I know he had hoped that with the passing of the holiday, I would get back down to "business". My business being, HIM.
I have been told that being a perfectionist is a curse. To create a perfect experience, all about me must be just right. No company expected? Check. Kids gone for the weekend? Check. Dogs out? Check. Set my Pet to work turning down the sheets, and laying out the toys. Check. Warm up the hormones with some light porn, and I am good to go. Check. So, after all this prep, how did our evening "hit the fan?" My caring, adorable, considerate, thoughtful (and VERY skilled) Pet, mistook my deeply felt yelps of pleasure for screams of pain, and stopped his ministrations at a MOST unfortunate moment. I have to admit, I was most ungracious at the interruption.....I could have been nicer. I would have been more forgiving, if the same thing had not happened not too long ago. I ordered the poor dear from my presence, and gradually cooled down. Mentally, and physically. I, of course, finally went to find him, and we ended our romantic evening watching Inspector Clouseau fall all over HIS wife. Should I have gotten right back on that horse? Probably.
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