Isn't it fun to get

Isn't it fun to get dressed up and go out together? I absolutely
love it. I love being alone with R. No interruptions, just us together! I love
putting on a skirt or dress that I am to-die-for in, with heels, painted toe
nails, fab make-up and the perfect accessories. I love it when R is all clean
and smells so delicious that I could eat him up! I appreciate him both in and
out of just about anything, but especially enjoy seeing him in clothes that
require ironing. Of course, I also love his specific smell. When he was going to
come home from the Gulf War (1), he shipped some of his things ahead. When I
opened the box, it exploded with his wonderful calming, exhilarating scent. I
wrapped my head with the pants. I put on the blouse. I slept with the t-shirt
against my face. I couldn't get enough of him. The smell was intoxicating and
medicating. Momentarily, he was there, in the room, in the bed, with me. It
relieved me from my fear of never seeing him or touching him or hearing him or
smelling him again. When he did arrive home, I saw him first. Then his eyes
found mine. In our embrace, we breathed deeply of one another. We spoke rushed
and quiet words into each other's ears. Our senses simply reveled in the
tangible presence of being.