18 days to fall in love

The little purplish glass jar was on the nightstand. Next to it was a matching petite, spiral-bound, lavender book, beside which lay a heavily chewed pencil. I couldn't help wondering if she had written my name in those crisp pink pages, but of course, I didn't look. There wasn't time, and even if there was, I would never violate her privacy. Besides, if she had things on her mind where I was concerned, I'd rather hear them from her own lips. I plucked her bathrobe out of the closet and wasted no time returning to her side. She was cuddled in the blanket again. I parted the folds and dipped my finger into the cream pot. Lisa drew up her shoulders, holding up her bosom to accept my attentions.