Inspired by Aerosmith’s song Pink, here’s my short story:
by Fay Moore © 2012
Elise tucks her pre-schooler into bed. Elise has read a dozen bedtime stories, at least twice, to Morgana before the four-year-old surrenders to sleep. A glance at the wall clock alerts Elise that Morgana is asleep early. It is 7:00 PM on a Friday night.
The television is on downstairs in the living room where Brent, Elise’s husband, is watching the evening news. He’s home early.
It’s rare to have a whole evening with her spouse, Elise thinks.
Brent is a regional sales rep for agricultural products, so he seldom gets home before ten at night. Elise and Morgana are normally asleep. To keep from waking his girls, Brent often crashes in his recliner in front of the TV, sleeping in his clothes. He is a good provider who works the extra hours, so Elise can be a stay-at-home mom.
Elise slips into her bedroom.
She is grateful to her husband for all he does for the family. Tonight she wants to show him how she feels and give him a pleasant surprise.
On her nightstand, there is a bottle of insta-dry fingernail polish in her favorite color: pink. She quickly touches up any chips on her nails. In her dresser, she finds a satin pink teddy that Brent gave her on their last anniversary. She has never worn it. She slips it on. It has a matching thong. She wiggles into it and snaps the waistband high on her hips. She remembers sandals buried in the bottom of the closet. She bought them for their honeymoon because they made her feel naughty and kittenish. The shoes have a spike heel, open backs and a band of pink fluffy feathers that cross the top of her toes. She recalls the snickers about her “madam” shoes she and Brent shared on their first night together. She wonders if he will remember. Next, she opens her jewelry box and extracts a pair of gigantic pink plastic flamingo clip-on earrings. She spots a pink sequined eye mask. Both items are leftover pieces from old, elaborate Halloween costumes. Finally, she pins her hair up. She has a pink felt fedora with a rhinestone hatband that she perches on her head.
She descends the carpeted stairs quietly and sneaks up behind her husband. She places her hands over his eyes and coos.
He pulls her fingers to his lips and kisses them, before gently pulling her out from behind him and into full view. Stunned, he says nothing for a second. She chuckles.
“I don’t know whether to spank it, cage it or kiss it,” he says.
“What do you think?” she asks, in a feigned coy voice.
Searching for a safe response, he says, “It’s pink.”
She collapses into his lap, giggling.