Keeping Chastity
Those luminous nights all seem to start off the very same way. She is cradled in the spin of light winds. It serves as her reminder of love. It's that happy feeling trickling down, wrapping it's wings around her. A complete release she runs to.
The drive from “Pleasantville” is that of a snail's pace. At least it enables her to stroll through the mental Rolodex in her mind and compose a check list of weeks' end follow ups, to be completed at her home office.
She walks through the door with her item lines noted. First, check to ensure all pending emails have been answered and closed, or at the least responded to with an ETC. Checked. Secondly, listen to voice memo dictations recorded on the cellphone over the last few days. Issues and concerns need to be transferred onto an One Page report with required actions needed. Checked. Thirdly, turn on the oven and warm your weekly self prepared, individually wrapped dinner. Fourth and finally, pour a half a carafe of wine and prepare a bath for the nectar that is your nakedness.
She draws a boiling hot bath laced with whimsical sweet smelling bubbles. She sets the mood, turning on her intercom that pipes in Pandora. Exhaling fresh breath into her steam room, she steps into her claw-foot over sized basin, soaks and sips the work week away. Religiously bathed and shaved, she lifts the bounty that is her body out of her cleansing soak and cloaks her wetness in sheer free flowing luxury. She carries the remainder of wine into the kitchen and sets a solo debutante approved place setting. She meticulous and artistically arranges the plate with the warmed food from the oven.
She has obligated herself to the constraints of her drab 9 to 5, Monday through Friday she wears the mask. There we are all host to emotionless beings supplying cookie cutter avenues of concrete buildings with Stepford women and Ken Doll men. Everyone is all punctually perfect, well dressed, poised beautiful lies but there is a calling falling from the wind that she hastens to. It's the whisper of weekends' night breeze fingering up her gown. The crisp nipple stroking air of night that compels her to lose all of her rules and just play, making love under the watch of sky.