ODE TO CROWN ROYAL. An Evening Alone is Good for the Soul.
She carefully placed the plain brown paper bag on the kitchen island countertop and headed towards her bedroom. Tossing her purse and laptop on the bed, she hopped and stumbled out of her shoes, finally kicking them off towards the direction of her closet. It had been a taxing day and she was anticipating her evening. By the time she undressed and tousled her wild hair on top of her head, the shower was steaming. The pressure stream of hot water massaged her skin, masterfully untying the knots that the day had woven into her neck and back. She closed her eyes and breathed, enjoying the warm relief. She shaved her legs, scrubbed off the remains of the day, and wrapped her dripping body in a thick, cozy towel. A swipe of her hand cleared the foggy bathroom mirror as she splashed her face with cool water rinsing away the remnants of her makeup. On the journey from her bathroom sink to her pajama drawer she hollered for ALEXA to stream a playlist that was mellow and soulful. She was starting to feel like her old self. The old self that had left the house that morning smiling, filled with high hopes, only to return exasperated. She let it go. She snuggled into her baggy checkered pajama bottoms and the softest, cotton tank top she could find. This was her night, and waiting on the kitchen island countertop was the only companion she wanted.
As she shuffled towards the kitchen, the hardwood floors felt cool against her clean bare feet. The bondage of her day was gone, she was finally braless, heelless, and relaxed with hours of freedom stretched out in front of her. The soothing music enlaced the atmosphere like a whispering backdrop. In the kitchen, the plain brown, unassuming, paper bag waited for her. She had picked him up on the way home from work. She was selective, but not a prude. She was strong; she wanted him to be strong too…and smooth. The choice had been easy. She gently reached her hand deep into the paper bag gripping his package and slowly pulling away the modest sack. She moaned before he could. His deep violet, boxy exterior teased her with its gold leafed lettering and rich, red crown. He was well-dressed, and it only made her want him more. Like a college game of strip poker, she set her sights on Mr. Royal, intending to disrobe him one layer at a time.
Crown Royal, she had spoiled herself with him before and he had always been unforgettable. He was an indulgent gift, perfectly wrapped, waiting to be unleashed. His boxy outer jacket was misleading, she knew better. There were no manners beyond his royal package, though his foreplay was subtle and exceptional. The first taste of him massaged her tongue, relaxed her senses, let down her guard. He was smooth, and had the ability to steady her breath and make her shoulders go limp in a single sip. He was magic.
She opened the box and drew the golden cords of his inner robe tighter, holding him close as he emerged from his box to her arms. His velvety purple robe was impressive, she admired his style, independence, and individuality. She could see him better now, flirting with her through the peek-a-boo top of his robe. With her fingers she loosened his cinched golden sash exposing his broad, chiseled bottle. The caramel, glistening undertones of the smooth whiskey beneath the glass were seducing her. She turned his golden cap releasing his dark amethyst neck tie and allowing the whiskey to take a breath. He was all hers and she was going to savor him.
She slid a large, single ice cube into her best whiskey glass. Leaning in, she poured him slowly over the translucent cube anticipating his foreplay. She carried him gently to the coffee table, centering him on her favorite coaster. Nestling into the couch, she pulled a blanket over her shoulders and opened her favorite book to the marked chapter. She loved sinking into her cozy sofa and getting lost in a story, intertwining her emotions with the characters in the novel. She lifted the cool glass to her lips, closed her eyes and took her first sip, allowing the taste to linger on her tongue. It did not disappoint. It never did. This was her night.
