Some last minute preparations first.

Tomorrow would have to be perfect.

In the course of just a single week you have grown to greatly care about the almost conventional eighteen year old college freshman. Almost conventional you remind yourself, as if there was anyway in your right mind you would abandon the chance at courting such a wonderful young beauty for anyone else in the world right now.

Images flash through your head as you think of the way she smiles with her pearly white teeth making her cute little button nose crinkle up ever so slightly. The manner in which sometimes when she laughs her whole lithe frame shakes, making her perky breasts jiggle within her clothes. Also the pure innocence of her nature captures you. Like every time she finds herself in an embarrassing moment she quickly covers her mouth as blood flows to her cheeks, making them a rosy red color.

You often find yourself wondering where those cute little freckles actual end. Does she shave or trim her mound or let it grow naturally? Does she wear thongs, or panties or maybe nothing at all? Is her butt as deliciously edible as it appears to be in her clothes? Are her feelings genuine for you, or is it all just fabricated gestures you influenced upon the teen with your mystical ring?

These are answers you wanted to know and there was only one way to know the truth; removing the ring.

That is why tomorrow would have to be perfect.

You stop by the fruit and vegetable market on your way home, picking up a couple pounds of fresh strawberries and a head of broccoli. You could probably easily convince the young guy behind the counter that you have already paid for the goods and just leave but why take the chance of him remembering and you going downtown for a petty theft. You pay the boy and head toward the butcher shop. You hope she likes meat and laugh as you think “definitely pun intended,” before catching yourself laughing at such a lame joke and immediately desist. You ask for two rib-eye steaks and pay before leaving. You make one more stop, picking up your dry cleaning for the week before heading home.

“Honey, I’m home!” You call out looking around momentarily before a small Siamese cat enters the room.

“How’s my cute little Cleopatra doing today?”

“Meow!” The cat answers, giving you one last glance, before leaving the room.

“Wait, come here baby.”

Cleopatra ignores you as she turns the corner.

“Damn cat! You’re the only pussy I ever see anymore and even you resent me.” You joke as you place the groceries on the floor and remove your light jacket, hanging the dry cleaning and your coat up.

It was obvious the ring didn’t work on animals or at least not cats.

You grab the bags and head down the hallway to your kitchen, setting the food down on the counter. You would have to prepare the meat tonight to ensure its tenderness and taste. You quickly pull several spices and a large metal bowl from the cupboard before rummaging through the drawers for a whisk. It takes you several minutes to find one. Its been a long time since you’ve prepared a descent meal for yourself and even longer for someone else. You grab the extra virgin olive oil off the counter and add a tablespoon to the metal container before adding several spices. As you mix them all together you get the feeling it’s missing something.

An idea pops into your head and in moments you find yourself in the cellar converted basement raffling through several racks of bottles of your finest wines.

“No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, ah.”

You grab a bottle of Chat Le Pin 2000. Probably one of the more expensive red wines in your collection. It may not turn out to be the best date you’ve ever had, but it certainly will be the most costly.

You slowly make your way back up the stairs, taking each step cautiously. You pop the top adding two tablespoons to the mixture before deciding to add two more, stirring the concoction all together. You grab two large zip-lock bags from the turn base adding the blended seasonings equally to both before unwrapping the packages and adding a steak to each. You close the bags and shake them, setting them in the fridge. Tomorrow you would have to flip the steaks over to evenly season them.

Next came the broccoli, which after cleaning and chopping them up you throw into a pot with boiling water. Then the strawberries, after washing thoroughly, you place into the fridge. Some red skin potatoes, after cleaning, you individually wrap with tin foil and throw into the oven, ready to bake tomorrow.

You go into the living room and rearrange the furniture, so that the sofa faces the fireplace and encase the area with your wireless surround sound speakers. Afterward you sit down in your favorite recliner and turn on the TV. There isn’t much on as usual as you decide to leave it on some skinimax flick.

“MMmmmm…”

“Oooooooh…”

“Yeah…”

“Owwww…”

This continues for about another fifteen or so minutes followed by the narrative voice of some bimbo reading directly from the script. “That is when I knew I liked women.”

You turn off the TV and head back to the kitchen pulling a chuck of broccoli from the pot.

“Feels just about right,” you think.

It wasn’t too hard or soft. You pull out a strainer and pour the green vegetable inside. After they cool down you place them in a large zip-lock bag and put them in the fridge. The rest would come tomorrow. You clean the kitchen up and cork the bottle, leaving it on the table. You head back down the hall and into the entryway, grabbing your dry cleaning, and up the stairs to your room. You do your nightly routine before slipping under your comfortable blanket.

Tomorrow, was going to be perfect!