I enter the kitchen
and see Angela working her magic.
I tiptoe my way in from behind her
easing my way into her presence
and the warm air surrounding us.
“I hear you…little rascal!”
she says just as I place my hands on her hips
and look over her shoulder.
“MMmmmm….I like cookies”, I say
as I wrap my loving arms around her waist
swaying a little dance.
“Especially yours”…
Angela knows just the right ingredients.
I can’t say what they are;
her recipe is a secret
worth keeping from me.
Her chocolate morsels may be Belgian,
but her style is all American.
“Oh you….anticipation is killing me”,
I softly whisper in her ear
followed by a soft tug
on the lobe with my lips.
“You’re just going to have to wait,
my impatient little boy”, she says.
I slip my hands into the mixture with hers,
kneading the dough,
applying soft yet firm pressure,
flowing to a steady rhythm
my breath quickens.
“Dough’s ready…
time for the spooon”, she says playfully
while leaning out a little
further from behind the counter,
teasingly brushing my torso
with her beautiful figure…
And then unexpectedly
pushing me away!
“Go sit down.”, she says.
The oven is getting hot
but the cookies
aren’t even in yet.
“Good things come to
those who wait.
You like them
really soft and sweet…
don’t you?”
“Oh yeah”, my immediate reply.
She coyly smiles with a slight nod,
“It’ll only be ten minutes then”.
I grudgingly accept
What choice do I have?
They will only taste
that
much
Better.
