The look said it all. Crushed. Utterly crushed! I knew, deep down I knew that I had failed, It didn’t matter that I had spent what appeared to be a lifetime satisfying her wants and needs. It didn’t matter that I had worked my fingers to the bone to get her a fine house, it didn’t matter that I had bought her a Butterly robe from Certain Style and had it perfectly made to fit a her equally perfect body. None of if mattered any more. The look said.

“Be gone from my sight, never darken my door again”

I stood. Frozen. Was there a way out? An apology? A second chance, a second chance to run my hands over the satin pajamas, smooth to the touch, sheer enough to let the body’s heat through, sensuous enough to require delicate handling. I paused, hopeful of a glimmer of hope, a small, perhaps imperceptible smile that would open the door to a future.

She was gone, but even in that brief time of utter rejection, I had formulated a plan. She loved luxury lingerie, sure that was a no-brainer, so just get more of it, make sure it was delivered in a beautiful box, make sure it was made to her measurements and color tastes, deliver and then pray that the gods of love were smiling on me. That could work, it really could and next time I would have to remember to get her latee, not mocha.