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Date Posted: 08:56:27 07/28/99 Wed
Author: first entry
Author Host/IP: user38.quadnet.net / 198.139.144.237
Subject: "L"

Luke comes home from getting the tires rotated, carrying a shopping bag from Victoria’s Secret. In the bag is a big box. Six-year-old Sally is dying to see what’s in the box. “Let’s open it!” I say to her. Luke shoots me a look of alarm. She already knows we’re going to be celebrating our anniversary while she is on a sleepover at her friend’s house. I think it’s OK for her to find out that grown-ups can exchange pretty lingere for their anniversary. In fact, I think she should expect it. We go upstairs to open the box. Inside are a black silk robe, lacy bra, stockings, garter belt, and, in a tiny gold box, an exquisite g-string. “What’s that?” Sally wants to know. “Underwear,” I tell her.

My parents never celebrated their anniversary. Whenever I asked my mom if she was planning something for their anniversary, year after year she’d say, “I might not be married by then.” So I have no experience with planning an anniversary celebration. But I definitely think it should involve a hotel, lingere, and champagne. This year, I planned a visit to my mom’s on the week of our anniversary. Luke was hurt. But the disappointment seemed to be mitigated by the fact that he would be picking up a 5’9” Italian medical student with long brown hair at the airport the same day I left. Gabriella turned out to be everything he dreamed of. I had to read him the riot act. “She is 24.” I say to him. “You are in loco parentis. Do not violate that trust.” “Can I take her sightseeing to Boston if there’s an e-saver?” he wants to know. “No,” I say. “If you go to Boston with her, we all go. No staying overnight in a hotel alone with her. Not ever.” He pouts.

Anyway, I felt bad about missing our anniversary. When I suggest doing something on a different day, he says morosely that I missed the “real” anniversary and it wouldn’t count. I say, “People have birthday parties on days besides their birthday. We celebrate national holidays on days besides the actual holiday.” “I hate that,” he says. “Give me a frigging break.” I say, and I call my friend Adrian to arrange for a Friday sleepover for Sally, anyway. I want to make surprise hotel reservations, but I just can’t do it while taking care of the baby. I have Luke make hotel reservations. “Why are we spending all this money just because Sally is at a sleepover?” he asks me. “This is the anniversary celebration,” I tell him. “I want you to pour champagne over my tits and lick it off, just like in the movie “Wild Things.” Luke starts to get interested. “Can we bring Gabriella with us to the hotel?” he asks. “NO!” I say.

I tell Sally that we’re going to stay at a hotel while she’s at her sleepover. I tell her mommies and daddies need special time together to celebrate their Anniversary. She is right with me. “You need a card,” she says. “Right, a card, good idea,” I tell her. “Not a funny one,” she says. “No, not funny,” I agree. “A nice one like you get for Gramom,” she says. “Yes, it should say something nice,” I agree again. “Like ‘you are the best husband ever,’” she says. “Or something like: ‘Thank you for the many happy years together, and the many to come,’” I say. I find a lovely anniversary card.

He’s still complaining about the money as we drive to the hotel. He’s wearing a black shirt and pants, and I’m wearing a slinky, sleeveless black dress with buttons all the way down the front. Lucy is napping. “We could still cancel the reservation and go home and save the money,” he says. But by the time we walk through the front door of the Omni, he is mesmerized by the hotel’s elegance. A piano is playing. The bellhops wear faux safari suits, khaki pants with nehru jackets and woven pith helmets. The registrar gets us a fantastic corner room on the tenth floor with a beautiful view to the south and east of of the city. On the corner of the honor bar is a basket of goodies, including a box of Altoids. Luke says that later on, he definitely wants to try the new Altoid thing I keep talking about.

Lucy wakes up and toddles around the room in delight. Luke starts reading restaurant reviews. I had made a reservation at a riverfront restaurant where we had our first fancy date, 19 years ago. But it’s too hot to walk that far. We decide to walk around the block and read menus. Luke buys a bottle of champagne and takes it back to the hotel to chill. We pick an Italian grill that got excellent reviews. Luke gets grilled pork medallions in tomato sauce over spinach. I get penne pasta with peas, mushrooms, and grilled salmon. The waiters all speak to the servers and busboys in Italian. As it turns out our waiter is from Kosovo. Lucy lets the maitré di hold her. She eats butter, clams, and stuffs penne into her mouth. We don’t start dinner till after 9, but she’s still awake when we return to the hotel. I strip off my dress and nurse her to sleep.

I am awakened when Luke crawls into the King-sized bed next to me. It’s dark, and I reach over to rub his chest. His shirt is soft and ribbed. Funny, I didn’t notice that before. Then I move my hand downwards and find the silk boxer shorts. It looks like Luke did some shopping for himself today, too. He pulls back the covers. The boxers are black with red and green chili peppers on them. “Caliente” “Hot” and “Spicy” are printed on the fabric for the vegetable-metaphor perception impaired who miss the point.

I get up and go into the bathroom to try on my new black ensemble. The silk robe is delicious. The stockings have a lace band at the top and stay up by themselves. The bra is an underwire that does things to my tits that I never knew were possible. The g-string is naughty. I have to give myself a quick trim so nothing is sticking out along the edges. When I walk back out into the room, Luke is captivated. “Wow,” he says. “I told the salesgirl I wanted something that was illegal in several states.”

We pour champagne and move to the couch. Well, I move to the couch. Luke kneels in front of me. The stockings and robe and Luke’s tongue keep me warm in the cool room.

Whoops, gotta run. Luke wants a repeat of the lingere modeling. More later...

“L”

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