"Ok, well, how about you phone me when you get home from class for supper. I'll drop over or something."
"Yeah, ok, I guess... the girls are home tonight though, just so you know."
"Yeah, that's ok. We'll just rent a movie or something and stay in. Ok?"
"Yeah, ok. I'll call you later. Bye."
"Bye."

The most difficult part of any sort of surprise for me is the deep pain of hearing disappointment in my lover's voice when I'm trying to keep it a secret. We'd not been together long - just four weeks - but ever since we'd finally gotten together a month ago, when our cauldron of sexual tension boiled over on that fateful night, we'd been together every day, embracing each other's company with a soulful passion neither of us had ever experienced before.

Speaking with her on the phone that day, no matter how much she insisted that a quiet night at her apartment was ok, I knew she felt different. The disappointment rang through in her voice, as hard as she tried to hide it. It had only been four weeks, I'm sure she reminded herself in her head, but the ache in her heart for some sort of romantic gesture vibrated in her vocal cords, across the city's phone lines, and struck home in my heart. Even knowing all I had planned, it stung me deeply, and took every ounce of self-control to keep my secret safe.

I whispered down the phone with a sigh and almost a tear, breathed deeply and slowly, and indulged a flight of fantasy in my mind for just a few moments to still the pain in my chest. I tried to imagine the look on her face when she found out. I tried to imagine how that expression would elevate me. I could feel like a god to see her smile, and smile she most certainly would. I saw her face clearly in my mind, felt the way her radiance melted the firmest of my resolves, and made the troubles of the world retreat in her presence. With another slow deep breath I opened my eyes, and felt my brain switch into high gear. There was much to do, and little time. "No half measures," I reminded myself.

I scrambled back and forth frantically between bathroom and bedroom, carefully folding clothes and grabbing all the necessary supplies. I read and re-read my list repeatedly, and tried to think of anything I might be forgetting. I looked at my watch. It would be hours before I would see that face or hear that smile, and already I was trembling. If I spent the whole afternoon this manic, I'd be exhausted before the night began, and that would be no help at all. I stopped to breath, rechecking the list. I looked toward the phone.

"One step at a time," I told myself, "Mall. Apartment. Always time if there's anything you're forgetting... What are you forgetting? Ice!" I snapped my fingers and scribbled a note, and looked again to the silent phone.

I sat and waited impatiently, bouncing one leg.

It rang. I cleared my throat and answered, as calmly as possible.

"Hello?"
"She's gone."
It was her roommate, Sarah, as expected.
"Ok. Good. Gone gone? Definitely gone?"
"Yes, relax. Geez. She didn't look real happy though. She'll be back about six. Kelly will be heading out around four. I'll stay here to let you in. What time do you figure you'll be here?"
"I just have to hit the mall first. Maybe 4:30?"
"Ok, then I'll take off after you get here. Try not to be naked in the middle of the living room floor at midnight, that's about when we'll be getting back. And relax, she'll love it. I can't believe you're doing this. This is fabulous."
"No half measures," I replied. "Thank you. I'll see you soon. I'd better get moving."

I threw down the phone and bounced excitedly about the room. I checked and double-checked everything in my bags before calling the taxi. Fifteen minutes later I was staggering around the mall, list in hand, bags slung around me in every direction, bumbling like a fool from an old slapstick movie. I darted shop to shop in a near-random order, plowing my way through my list as quickly as I could, and completely unable to focus. With each item I crossed off, I became more like a giddy child. I was drunk with love.

Finally, having checked and double-checked, I felt sure I had everything I required. It was a short list, and I'd gotten it finished quickly. This was good, because I knew I was already racing against time. I puzzled once more if there might be something I was forgetting, looked at my watch, and satisfied that I was finally ready, I started to leave. Arms full and flowers in hand, I strode smiling toward the exit, dreamily running through the evening in my head. So dreamily, in fact, that I almost marched right into her.

She'd decided to skip her first class and take a side-trek on her way to the university instead, and now, fifty feet before me, she too was headed toward the exit. I dodged quickly into a shop lest she turn around and see me. Pale-faced and panting, I counted my blessings that chance had not started me down that hall five seconds earlier.

A short taxi ride brought me to her building, and after a clumsy trip up the stairs, I was at her apartment door.

"Hi, come in." Sarah opened the door, and I burst inside and began hastily unpacking. "I'm going to leave you my key in case you need to run back out for anything before she gets home." As she laid the key on the kitchen table, she watched me unloading and placing things in the living room. Shaking her head and smiling, she grabbed her bag and headed for the door.

"Ok, thanks," I called after her just as she was leaving, puttering about frantically.
"Oh, and I laid out some clothes on her bed for her."
I stopped and turned to look at Sarah.
"Thank you," I smiled, "That's excellent." It was something that'd not even crossed my mind in this whole scheme, but it was solved before it started. I'd remember to thank Sarah again later, when there was more time.
"Good luck," she answered, as the apartment door swung shut behind her.

I took a deep breath, and resumed my mania, getting each room ready. There was a place for everything and everything in its place. As the final minutes counted down, I changed into my evening attire, and paced nervously about the kitchen as I counted down the last minutes until her arrival.

Shortly after six, my heart rose into my throat as I heard footsteps outside the door. I checked my little black bowtie one last time in the glass of the oven door, and held my breath as the key turned in the lock.

She stormed inside, dropping her books on the hallway floor with an audible crash that suggested her mood was somewhat less than elated. Two more thumps and sighs came as she struggled with her winter boots.

"Something smells good. Who's cooking?" she said, emerging at last into the kitchen. "What are you...?"

I looked into her eyes as her brain digested this unexpected scene. I stood before her in my nicely pressed white shirt and black dress pants, with matching black bowtie, and a small white towel folded over my forearm. The table was set for two, and with each glass or piece of cutlery perfectly lined up symetrically, but with a white envelope bearing her name on her empty plate and four white roses at the center. Speechless, she surveyed the room. The aroma of the sauce bubbling away on the stove wafted through the room, and only now did she notice the gentle, low sounds of classical music slipping through the apartment.

And there, in that single moment frozen in time, watching her expression change from confusion to joy as the smile formed on her face was a reward worth a thousand times the lengths I'd gone, and all the nervousness fled from me, leaving us to bask comfortably together in this special moment. When at last her mind had sorted the sensory overload I'd presented her, she opened her mouth to speak, but I cut her off.

"I... I... I can't believe you..." she stammered out.

"M'lady, dinner is not quite ready, but will be shortly. I will be your servant this evening. I suspected you might be very tired after a long day back and forth to the university, so I took the liberty of running you a hot bath. Also, Sarah laid out some clothes on your bed she felt might be appropriate for the occassion. I've not looked myself, so I can only hope her selections are to your liking. Now if you'll excuse me but a moment, I've the meal to attend to."

I turned my face away before finally smiling broadly to myself so she wouldn't see my "cat that ate the canary" look. I could tell from her expression she was already both surprised and impressed, and she had no idea yet just how much farther I planned to take this. As I returned to the stove, she stood a moment in the doorway, still a little shocked, and finally began to slowly make her way to her bedroom, undressing as she went. I puttered about the kitchen, giving her enough time to undress and head to the bathroom, where she'd find the hot bubble bath complete with floating candles awaiting. I could hear her sigh as she opened the bathroom door. After giving her a little time to soak and relax in the tub, I grabbed the wine glasses, bottle and ice bucket, and headed in. She looked up and smiled as I gently pushed open the door and entered.

"Would you like a little wine to help you unwind, m'lady?"
"Yes, please," she said simply.

I poured two glasses, and set the icebucket aside the tub. I handed her one glass, and then set mine down on the countertop while I seated myself on the rug next to the bath, and then rolled up my sleeves.

"I can't believe you did all this," she said.

I smiled as I looked into her eyes. We touched our glasses together and each took a sip, and she returned to leisurely washing herself. I watched, intently, her every graceful motion. Finally she stopped, leaned her head back against the tile wall, and looked back into my eyes as we each drank a long gulp from our glasses. There was a silent pause, and finally we leaned together over the edge of the tub and kissed a single, long, slow, passionate kiss. As we parted, I brought my hand to her face, the backs of my fingers caressing her cheek, and then rotated my hand as my fingertips ran slowly down the side of her neck. I took the mesh sponge from the side of the tub and ran it slowly up and down the length of one arm, covering it in suds, and then the other. I dipped it beneath the bubbles and into the steaming water and raised it to make the double trip along each arm again to rinse them off. She smiled coyly and sat up a little, so her chest came above the level of the water. I turned away a moment to set down my wineglass so I could have both hands free. I lathered the sponge and ran it along her neck and under her chin, over each shoulder and across the top of her chest. In slow wide strokes side to side I passed it back and forth over the top of her breasts, edging downward until finally I changed to a circular motion around down beneath the underside of each and then a slow circle around each nipple. She slid back down into the tub and lifted a leg out of the water, bracing her foot against the faucet, and motioned with her eyes toward her thigh. I lathered the sponge again. I reached over her leg to trace a long line down the outside of her leg, back across her ankle, and up the inside of her calf and thigh. She dropped her leg back into the tub and replaced it with the other. Again, I made the journey, down the outside of her leg, across her ankle, and back up the inside, but this time pausing at the knee, before very slowly inching it up the inside of the thigh. She suddenly snatched my wrist with her free hand and brought my hand between her legs. I let go of the sponge so it could drift away. She leaned back and bit her bottom lip gently as my fingers gently began to explore.

We stared into each others eyes in the flickering candlelight. I caressed her beneath the water, and heard her breath catch as my fingers began their delicate work. I watched her through the rising steam of the tub as the soapy bubbles slid off her face and hair when she pushed her head back harder against the tile, closed her eyes, and began to quiver a little. But as her grip on my wrist loosened with her escalating passion, I withdrew my hand, unfinished.

Her eyes opened to fix on mine once more, but with a fire inside.

"Food should be just about done. I'd better check on it." I stood, took my glass and the icebucket, gulped down the last of my wine, and winked at her with a smirk before exiting the room. She lay there still, mouth agape in a look of mock disgust, and watched me go.

I returned to the kitchen, and checked that everything was just right with the food. When I heard the water sloshing as she emerged from the tub, I returned to help her towel off.

Slipping into the bathroom, I found her standing naked and dripping before the mirror with her back to the door, towel-drying her hair. I slipped in quietly behind her, took another large bath towel from the rack, and slowly dabbed her gently with the towel from behind. I slowly drew the towel over her shoulders, down her back, over her smooth round bottom, and down the backs of her legs. Reaching around her, I brought the towel back up the front, rubbing it over her legs, up the inside of her thighs, over her stomach, and finally coming to rest with a breast cupped in gently in each hand. Her hands stopped rubbing her hair and she closed her eyes. She tilted her head back to rest against my chest. I looked over her head to study the beauty of her body in the mirror. I traced the lines of her face with my eyes: her beautiful high cheekbones, her soft complexion, the line of her jaw and throat. Her breasts, small but pert, weighed perfectly in my hands. Her hips, something she hated and wished smaller, were so shapely and feminine and lovely to me. She turned her head to the side without opening her eyes, and smiled invitingly. I wrapped my arms and the towel around her tightly and kissed her once deeply. She slid from my arms and away to her room to get dressed. I returned to the kitchen.

She arrived at the edge of the kitchen a vision of subtle beauty. She had no special hairdo or make-up. Her hair was still wet and stringy. This was her on any given day, and today, just like any given day, the sight of her was both compelling and calming to me at once. She possessed a nature and simple beauty that required no special attention. She stopped in the doorway to smile at me, and the room lit up. She came to the table and sat opposite.

Dinner passed quickly. We exchanged small gifts, touched feet under the table, and took turns smelling the fragrant white roses. We sipped our wine and giggled coyly. But as we chatted idly over desert, and the palpable sexual tension continued to rise between us, I knew she'd finally taken in all the events of the night, and it was time to take things up another notch.

I rose from my chair, assumed a very straight stance, and adjusted my bowtie dramatically. "If m'lady's meal is well-settled, it is time for her massage." I motioned toward the living room. Again I was rewarded with an expression mixed of both joy and surprise. She shook her head a little in disbelief, smiled, and slowly rose and made her way to the next room, taking her wine with her as she went. I grabbed my own glass, and the icebucket and wine bottle, and followed her.

I glanced nervously about the room, sure she'd see any one of the various little surprises I'd cleverly hidden under the edges of couch cushions or furniture, but her eyes were focussed only on the blanket and pillow arrangement I'd laid out on the floor. She turned to face me silently as I set aside the bucket and wine, adjusted the music on the stereo, and then slowly approached her. She stood motionless, as if in shock, as I methodically undressed her in the most casual possible way, except to pass her wine from hand to hand as I pulled her sleeves off over each arm. I struggled not to be enticed or distracted at watching her body's reaction to the slightly cool air of the room. When at last her naked silhouette stood before me in the dim light of the flickering candles, I knelt beside the blankets, and motioned for her to lie down. She laid her wine on the side table, and quietly lay face down on the floor.

I gulped down the remaining wine in my glass and set it aside. Taking the massage oil from its hiding place, I dropped a small amount onto one of my palms, and went to work. I started with the back of her neck and her shoulders, slowly but firmly working each muscle until the day's tension conceded and retreated. I worked the backs of her arms only a little, before turning my primary focus to her back. I worked up and down the length of her spine repeatedly, taking periodic breaks to reconnect with her sides, shoulders, and neck.

I stood from my seating position, moved to my new location, and sat on my heels between her ankles. I worked each my hands up the back of each calf and thigh, taking away the results of the day's walking and replacing it with a renewed softness. I forced myself to breathe slowly to maintain my composure and self-restraint, able from my vantage between her parted legs to see the very quick of her, and struggling against myself to keep from touching her as my thumbs fell just an inch shy on each trip up her thighs.

Finally I stopped and let out an audible sigh. She took this as a cue and rolled over in place so she lay naked and face up. I smiled and began massaging the front of each leg. She smiled back and watched intently as I slowly made my way up her body, gently rubbing her abdomen with oil. I moved again, straddling her hips so as to reach her upper body. I caressed her slowly, hovering my fingers over her chest so lightly as to be barely perceptible. She threw her arms back over her head, wrists crossed, and let out a loud carefree exhale.

"What a wonderful night," she said simply, obviously of the belief that all was now revealed, and it was winding down to its end.

Our eyes closed as I leaned down to kiss her, and my hands glided up the underside of each arm and came to rest in a firm grip on her wrists, pinning her beneath me. Our tongues entwined. I pulled my mouth away, and hovered, the tips of our noses touching, so I could see her expression clearly in the dimness of the room. I watched up close as her eyes widened to saucers at the audible double-click of the handcuffs chaining her wrists to the base of the armchair. Wide-eyed, she shot a concerned look toward the apartment door, but I motioned to the nearby clock with my own glance.

"Hours," I smiled.

She looked at me with a smirk and eyes half-open. My broad grin was the last thing she saw as the black silk blindfold came down.

"Wonderful night?" I whispered, reaching for the icebucket. "It's only just begun."

"No half measures."