I survived. But we did have ice on our tent in the mornings… the things we do… anyway. It's Easter camp tradition to lose your voice, freeze and not do your washing till the day after you get home… so far I'm right on the mark.
*~~~*
Mark let himself in and put two shopping bags in the kitchen. He poked his head into the bedroom and finding it empty knocked on the bathroom door.
"Yeah…" Susan replied. She'd heard him and was waiting for his approach.
Mark opened the door and she rolled her head to one side from where it lay on the end of the bath. She smiled. He said nothing and knelt beside her, kissing her softly, lingeringly. He tore his lips away. "I'm going to make dinner, so take as long as you want."
"Okay." She pulled him back for one more kiss.
Ten minutes later he returned with a glass of red wine.
"Here you go." He handed it to her.
"Mmm, luxury." She purred.
"Good, good." He disappeared again.
Susan put her empty wine glass on the floor and pulled her body out of the cooling water.
Half-dry she pulled her robe around her and wandered barefoot into the kitchen, wrapping her arms around Mark from behind him. She kissed his shoulder, "Smells amazing."
"Let's hope it lives up to your expectations," he turned around in her arms and stroked her face fondly.
His eyes lingered too long for her comfort, "what?" she breathed.
"You're glowing."
"You know why?"
He shook his head.
"Combination of factors really – there's the bath, and then there's the wine, but most of all," she kissed him lightly, "there's you." She kissed him again, not so lightly. He pulled her hungrily into his embrace, searching her face and mouth with his own mouth. He only pulled away when he was kissing her neck and she started stirring the saucepan behind him.
"Hey. Let the master chef do his thing." He slapped her hand away.
"Okay. I'll just get changed." She wandered away.
"You can stay in your robe if you like." He yelled after her, grinning.
When she reappeared in a slip satin nightdress his jaw dropped, "Or you could do that."
"Do what?" she teased 'innocently'.
He shook his head, smiling with his eyes, adoring her with every fibre of his being. "You're too…" he sought the right word, "distracting. I'll never get dinner finished."
"Okay, I'll set the table." She opened the cutlery drawer.
"If you like – we don't have to sit at the table. You do what you like."
She nodded and set to work while Mark tried NOT to get distracted by the stunning, scantily clad figure that kept popping in and out of the kitchen in a remarkably distracting way.
"Okay," he carried the two plates into the lounge. It was dark except for the firelight and the candles Susan had put on the coffee table, with two woven place mats and wine glasses, the rest of the bottle of wine they'd started earlier, folded serviettes, even little wrapped chocolate after-dinner mints. Susan was sitting on the rug in front of the fire, leaning on the arm of a sofa and reading. "Dinner's ready." He put their full plates on the place mats and sat beside her on the rug.
She put her book down and rested her head on his shoulder, kissing his jaw line familiarly. "I was looking forward to getting home, but this… it's perfect. Really…" she searched for the right word, "It's just perfect. You are… just perfect."
"Well the stiches are gone but it'll take a little long than that," he teased so she shut him up with a soft, adoring kiss.
"Let's eat." He pulled away softly, "or we never will."
*~~~*
Mark let himself in and put two shopping bags in the kitchen. He poked his head into the bedroom and finding it empty knocked on the bathroom door.
"Yeah…" Susan replied. She'd heard him and was waiting for his approach.
Mark opened the door and she rolled her head to one side from where it lay on the end of the bath. She smiled. He said nothing and knelt beside her, kissing her softly, lingeringly. He tore his lips away. "I'm going to make dinner, so take as long as you want."
"Okay." She pulled him back for one more kiss.
Ten minutes later he returned with a glass of red wine.
"Here you go." He handed it to her.
"Mmm, luxury." She purred.
"Good, good." He disappeared again.
Susan put her empty wine glass on the floor and pulled her body out of the cooling water.
Half-dry she pulled her robe around her and wandered barefoot into the kitchen, wrapping her arms around Mark from behind him. She kissed his shoulder, "Smells amazing."
"Let's hope it lives up to your expectations," he turned around in her arms and stroked her face fondly.
His eyes lingered too long for her comfort, "what?" she breathed.
"You're glowing."
"You know why?"
He shook his head.
"Combination of factors really – there's the bath, and then there's the wine, but most of all," she kissed him lightly, "there's you." She kissed him again, not so lightly. He pulled her hungrily into his embrace, searching her face and mouth with his own mouth. He only pulled away when he was kissing her neck and she started stirring the saucepan behind him.
"Hey. Let the master chef do his thing." He slapped her hand away.
"Okay. I'll just get changed." She wandered away.
"You can stay in your robe if you like." He yelled after her, grinning.
When she reappeared in a slip satin nightdress his jaw dropped, "Or you could do that."
"Do what?" she teased 'innocently'.
He shook his head, smiling with his eyes, adoring her with every fibre of his being. "You're too…" he sought the right word, "distracting. I'll never get dinner finished."
"Okay, I'll set the table." She opened the cutlery drawer.
"If you like – we don't have to sit at the table. You do what you like."
She nodded and set to work while Mark tried NOT to get distracted by the stunning, scantily clad figure that kept popping in and out of the kitchen in a remarkably distracting way.
"Okay," he carried the two plates into the lounge. It was dark except for the firelight and the candles Susan had put on the coffee table, with two woven place mats and wine glasses, the rest of the bottle of wine they'd started earlier, folded serviettes, even little wrapped chocolate after-dinner mints. Susan was sitting on the rug in front of the fire, leaning on the arm of a sofa and reading. "Dinner's ready." He put their full plates on the place mats and sat beside her on the rug.
She put her book down and rested her head on his shoulder, kissing his jaw line familiarly. "I was looking forward to getting home, but this… it's perfect. Really…" she searched for the right word, "It's just perfect. You are… just perfect."
"Well the stiches are gone but it'll take a little long than that," he teased so she shut him up with a soft, adoring kiss.
"Let's eat." He pulled away softly, "or we never will."