Just a few weeks ago, I was off to spend some lovely time with my youngest sister out east. Sam knows that, every so often, she and I need to be together for some SSS (Silly Sister Stuff.) I do love that girl just like when she was 5 years old.
The weather was not cooperative most of the time, but there were bits where spring broke through even though winter fought hard to maintain its bleak grip. It didn't matter a jot to us. There was laughter and hugs - good food and happy memories.
But I was surely missing Sam. I couldn't wait to be home with his arms around me. To fall asleep next to him in bed. There were other things I couldn't wait to do with my husband, too. Our wedding anniversary fell on one of my last days away, and I knew how I wanted to celebrate 2 days late. When I sent Sam a provocative email describing all the things I wanted him to do to me when I arrived home, this was his short response:
"Think a warm bottom welcome comes first."
That only added fuel to my fire. The very idea of that sort of welcome home spanking made me quiver a bit in my nether regions. I visualized us leaving the luggage by the front door and teasing each other down the hall and to the bedroom. Strip frantically and get down to business. No foreplay necessary. That was the plan.
When we walked in the front door, I turned the corner into the dining room. There, on the dark wood pub table, was a vase with a dozen red roses.
"Aww, Hon, they are just beautiful. I love the.....," and I stopped abruptly when I saw that the vase was circled with a blue satin ribbon.
The ribbon was strung off the vase and continued up toward the ceiling of the room. My eyes followed the ribbon up and then over and above the front closet door and on down the hall. I smiled at Sam with a questioning look.
"What's this, Sam?" I asked softly.
"Don't know," and he returned the smile a bit smugly.
I could have run down the hallway just following the ribbon with my eyes, but there was something in Sam's face that made me take my time; he had obviously worked hard on this treasure hunt. Thought we should savor the surprise together.
Following the ribbon with my fingertips, I felt Sam's hands on my shoulders and waist almost guiding me toward something. I was sure we were heading to our bedroom. I wondered. Would it be red lingerie or some wicked new implement? Nope. I was so surprised when the ribbon changed direction and led me into the spare room.
There on the table was a big, bright shiny new color printer - something I had asked for more times than I could remember. Wireless even!
"Cartridges are too damn expensive," he would growl. "We are just fine with the black and white one."
I really was stunned and delighted. I oohed and ahhed and said thank you over and over. I hugged and kissed that wonderful Sam until it dawned on both of us how very horny we both were. Clothes were being shed as we led each other back to our bedroom. The man lived up to his promise, and the "warm bottom welcome" was something to remember. Sam doesn't always let me see the weapons he chooses from the toy box, but I know there were 3 that afternoon. When he got to the razor strap, I was already knocking on heaven's door. The orgasm that followed was one for the record books. It felt like the spasms would never end, and my body jerked like I had electricity running from head to toe. Holy hell!
Really, how could the homecoming have been any better?
"Well," says Ella, "the story continues."
We finally dragged ourselves from bed, and later we eventually ended up back at my new printer. Sam urged me to print something, just to see how true the colors were. Since I had been planning a redecoration of our guest room, I asked my nifty toy to print a picture of a blue India batik wall hanging. Then, totally amazed at the lack of wires, I rushed down the hall once again to retrieve my first color copy. Except it wasn't the first copy. There was another page sitting warm on the humming machine.
Sam saw me look a little confused as I started to read from the page. Then I realized the words on the sheet were his. It was a letter. It was a love letter. Printed in a script font with an old clock in the bottom right corner. Could practically hear it ticking.
I took Sam's hand and pulled him to me.
"Can I read this out loud? Read it with you?" I asked.
"Of course you can, Ella."
Once I was seated on his knee, I began to read again, this time aloud. And here is the letter I found. The following are Sam's words.
It was what seems a long time ago. But then I think about it, and it seems to have passed too quickly.
I had finally arrived in "High School" and was on the track to I didn't know where. Just knew that things were getting serious from now on. There were weird politics, civil rights, there was a war, there was the draft coming up, and there was me. What was I going to do with my life? Didn't have the faintest idea about any of it.
I was walking down the hall one day, don't remember from where or to where or even what time of day it was. Out of the corner of my eye I saw a girl, somehow a girl like I had never seen before. Obviously, I had thought about girls being a hormone-driven teenager but never like this before. There was something really magic about this girl. The way she smiled, the way she talked, the way she walked, how she carried herself and something else. It was like the little pebble at the top of the mountain that rolls down the hill and starts an avalanche. And that avalanche lasted the rest of my life.
My casual glance became a full-fledged look. She took a quick glance at me and I thought, 'Not coming up to the mark, oh well,' with a great degree of disappointment. And then, just like that, the glance returned as a total look with a gorgeous smile attached. Across the hall, I heard another little pebble start a journey down the mountain.
After knowing you through all those years and all our married years, I am still ecstatic that you returned that look. I am so happy that I found you. And the avalanche continues.
Loved you then, love you now and always will.
After I finally stopped blubbering, I told Sam it was the most wonderful present he'd ever given to me. This combination of a homecoming and an anniversary gift was something I will never forget. Sam was right, though, about the avalanche. It's our love story, and there are still some chapters to write.