The early morning warmth, pushing my bottom against your thighs and wriggling until you wrap me in your arms and make me blush.

The plans we can make that fill up calendars – parties and gatherings that blossom along the path of our year as it curls into the distance.

Sunday afternoon spankings that leak into twilight kisses and wine for dinner under the sheets.

The secret boxes of objects I seldom see but often feel. Contents ordered without my request or my approval, used on me without hesitation

The lingerie, bought to make your eyes pop that become messages with time, little notes you read when you enter the room.

“I want you to kiss me until I am dizzy”

“I have been deplorably naughty (and I am not sure I care.)”

“May I have another, Sir.”

“Make me.”

You have seen me cry, tears of sadness, fear, frustration, or pain.

You have seen me ill, excited, exuberant and sloth like on my tummy watching a film.

You have seen me in all my incarnations of lover, dutiful daughter, worker, friend and stranger.

You know every drop of me. I drink up every drop of you.