Somehow Valentine’s Day doesn’t have the same allure for me that it has in years past. As a child I couldn’t wait to pass out and receive Valentines, my heart thumping when I would read, “Be My Valentine,” and was signed by Timmy or Jimmy or any other boy in class. I was sure it meant that they were madly in love with me, but too shy to say it to my face. My notebooks were filled with me writing, Mrs. Timmy Jones or Mrs. Jimmy Smith. Although, thinking back, I’m sure their mothers forced them to sign their names to the back of the Valentines, pass them out randomly and never even bother to read what the front of them said.
As I got older, I found that men seemed to like to buy flowery cards with lots of words, possibly thinking bigger is better. Again, I’m not sure they always read what was on the card and signed their name with an appropriate Valentine gift thinking that they made it through another holiday without screwing it up too much. (I have 4 brothers and have been privy to some of their thought processes throughout the years.)
Now, after being single for many years, Valentine’s Day, for me, is more to enjoy others experiences. My favorite Valentine movie is Sleepless in Seattle. You just can’t beat meeting on the top of the Empire State building and having the tall buildings make their windows light up into a heart shape. <Sigh…>
As a special surprise, Harlequin stopped by today to promote their Patent Your Kiss contest. On their site you can create the perfect kiss. One lucky commenter today will win a Kiss Kit complete with:
He grasped me firmly, but gently, just above my elbow and guided me into a room, his room. Then he quietly shut the door and we were alone.
He approached me soundlessly, from behind, and spoke in a low, reassuring voice, close to my ear. “Just relax. . . ”
Without warning, he reached down and I felt his strong, calloused hands start at my ankles, gently probing and moving upward along my calves, slowly, but steadily. My breath caught in my throat. I knew I should be afraid, but somehow I didn’t care. His touch was so experienced, so sure.
When his hands moved up onto my thighs, I gave a slight shudder, and I partly closed my eyes. My pulse was pounding. I felt his knowing fingers caress my abdomen, my ribcage. And then, as he cupped my firm, full breasts in his hands, I inhaled sharply. Probing, searching, knowing what he wanted, he brought his hands to my shoulders, slid them down my tingling spine and into my panties.
Although I knew nothing about this man, I felt oddly trusting and expectant. This is a man, I thought. A man used to taking charge. A man not used to taking “no” for an answer. A man who would tell me what he wanted. A man who would look into my soul and say . . . . .
“Okay, ma’am,” said a voice. “All done.”
My eyes snapped open and he was standing in front of me, smiling, holding out my purse. “You can board your flight now.”
Remember, any comment will give you a chance to win the Harlequin gift package, winner announced tomorrow. So, what’s your thoughts on Valentine’s Day?
Bottom Line: I claim there ain’t
As great as Valentine. ~Ogden Nash