Prepare Something Special

She told me she was coming next week, and her words stuck in my head: “Prepare special for me.”
I laughed at first, thinking it was just play. But later, alone, the thought kept replaying. What does “special” mean to her? A meal? A surprise gift? Or maybe the warmth of a welcome that’s not just about words?

We’ve been talking for a while, sharing little laughs and teasing lines, but this felt different. It carried weight, an invitation that sounded both innocent and daring.

Now, I catch myself planning. Should I cook for her? Should I hold her like I’ve been wanting to? Or should I keep it simple, hide the deeper thoughts, and act like it’s nothing?

Sometimes, it’s the smallest messages that awaken the biggest questions inside us. And right now, I’m torn between being the perfect host… and being the man who shows her exactly what “special” means.
The days kept crawling, but my mind was racing. Every time my phone buzzed, I wondered if it was her again, teasing me with another line. But nothing else came. Just that one command: “Prepare special for me, I de lap next week.”

I started imagining scenarios. The door opening, her footsteps echoing in my space. Her smile — the one I’ve seen in pictures but never up close — lighting up the room. Would she hug me tight, or would she stand there waiting to see my move?

The “special” I kept planning in my head wasn’t just food or drinks. It was the way I’d make her feel — wanted, cherished, desired. I wanted her to walk in and forget the world outside.

The night before her arrival, I barely slept. My house felt different, like it was waiting too. And when she finally came, the moment froze. She stepped in, looked around, then at me, and smiled.

Her voice was soft but heavy with meaning:
“So… where’s my special?”

I didn’t answer with words. Instead, I moved closer, close enough to catch her scent, close enough for her to feel my heartbeat. And in that silence, she knew. The “special” wasn’t something I could prepare in the kitchen. It was something only my arms, my lips, my body could give.

And when our lips finally met, it felt less like a beginning… and more like something we’d both been preparing for all along.

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