My Pretty Package

I awakened to the sounds of an R&B crooner, all alone in the large open 2 story family room. I feel chilly, the warm Bree that keeps me insulated. Gone without a trace.

As I shake off the cobwebs and get my bearings, I smell something delicious coming from the kitchen. I walked towards the smell.

"Baby?"

She turns, that smile, those eyes.

"Hey there sleepy head."

My Air is wearing an apron that reads Kiss the Cook. I point.

"Kiss the cook?"

"Yes, it's my mom's, but since I'm wearing it, I will take all the kisses tonight."

"Who are we listening to?"

"Oh my gosh, I guess it's my sisters, but it's Teddy Pendergrass. He's such a brilliant singer. I've been listening to his cassette and all the songs are love ballads. Since we are so in love."

She takes my hands and gives me her lips.

"Something smells as good as you look."

"Yes, it's the meat sauce. I'm allowing it to simmer, but since you said I was your present. I wanted to dress up like a pretty package. If you are a good boy, you can unwrap me a little later." She giggles.

"Thank you baby, that was the best spaghetti I ever ate."

"Now it's time for your dessert."

"Yeah, I would love a piece of Bree cake. I'm not so sure about cheesecake."

"You are so clever, bad boy. I promised a cheesecake is just as sweet as your Bree cake." She replies with an embarrassed giggle.

My Heart brings out one enormous slice of cheesecake. She comes to sit on my lap. I pull out my chair and she comes between my legs and takes a seat on my right thigh.

She takes the fork and feeds me a bite. It's creamy, silky smooth and sweet. The graham cracker crust offers some crunch to the bite.

It's orgasmic to my mouth. I never thought these words would ever come out of my mouth. It tasted better than my mom's sweet potato pie.

"My God baby, I've tasted nothing better, except for your sweet lips."

"I know right. Told ya. Ok, now you love cheesecake."

"Now, since I'm not this great poem writer like you, however, I wanted to give you something just as special as your Forever Bree poem. I want to give you something I'm good at."

"She continues. I watched this documentary on PBS about JFK. You know President Kennedy."

"Yes, sweetie, I'm aware."

"He had an affair with Marilyn Monroe, the blonde bombshell."

"Yes, I'm not sure where she's going with this."

"She sang a super sexy, happy birthday to Mr. President. So my present is a song and dance for you."

Bree gets off my lap, takes off the Kiss the Cook apron. My Air is wearing a pink bikini top and matching wrap around her fabulous fanny.

She sings Happy Birthday to Mr. Kincaid in the sexiest rendition I had ever heard. The song alone had Mr. Johnson giving a standing ovation, and I'm not referring to the former Vice President.

My Bree's dance would make even a seasoned stripper blush. I follow my heart to her bedroom. We make love on top of the covers with the lights on.

Our eyes never look away. Each of us saw love and a future of happiness staring back. Our bodies melted. I became Bree; she became me.

Cold chills swept over my body while tears invaded the eyes of my Love. We simultaneously reached paradise, our bodies trembling in ecstasy. Little did we know how that beautiful night would change our lives forever.