H is for Honey


“Yes, dear?” The smile on your face makes me roll my eyes, but laugh.

honey with pears on cutting board
Photo by Polina Kovaleva on Pexels.com

“Do you want honey with the bread?” I ask more clearly.

“Yes, please.” Like there would be any other answer. I know how much you love wheat bread and honey. Something about a trip when you were a kid.

I put the honey in a small bowl and place it on the tray. Some fruit, a little cheese, and the requisite wheat bread. “Can you grab the wine for me?” I ask as I head towards the family room.

Movie night is our night. It might not always be the same night every week and sometimes they might be really bad movies, but it is our time. Tonight is a silly romantic comedy that we’ll spend the time making fun of.

We settle into the couch and turn it on. “To you,” you say as you lift the wine glass. “To you. And us,” I respond. We take a sip and start munching on the food. The music starts swelling as the movie begins.

This one is worse than most. It has a ridiculous plot and we are both laughing out loud and groaning as it continues. “I need more wine,” I say and head to the kitchen. When I return, you have your eyes closed as you chew.

“Good food?” I laugh.

“Good wine, good company, and some good thoughts,” you reply.


“I was thinking about drizzling some honey on my honey and licking it off.”

“Oh no, you don’t!” I stand up quickly to avoid the sticky mess. “I don’t do sticky.”

You sigh loudly. “I know. But I can’t help where my brain goes. You give me thoughts.”

“Think thoughts with less stickiness.”

I sit back down with my wine. “I’m not sure I can make it through this one. It’s really bad. Do you want to find another one?”

You smile and then shake your head. “No. I think one is enough. But maybe, we can make our own movie.”

“You are still thinking about the honey, aren’t you?”

“Well…kinda. Your kind of honey.”

“I see. Not quite the same on the wheat bread, though.”

“I’ve had my fill of wheat bread for the night. Besides, I think I deserve a treat for not dripping honey on you. Don’t you think so?”

“Better start that camera,” I say as I pull off my shirt and head down the hall. “Let’s see what your skills are as a videographer and leading man.”

Erotic Fiction

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