Still half an hour to go. Or had all the clocks in the house conspired to grind to a halt? Nope. Emily checked both her watch and her phone and it was seven o’clock on the dot. She'd brushed her teeth again and given herself another squirt of Jo Malone perfume. Probably a squirt too far as she positively reeked of Pomegranate Noir now. Poor Joe would probably need a face mask if he got too close. What to do now? In the end, Emily decided a blast of music was what was needed to pass the time. She popped the latest Now album collection in her CD player and shimmied her way around the kitchen. Now 92. It pained her to admit it but she could remember when the first one came out. Obviously not on an annual basis or she was a whole lot older than she thought.
Emily was just busting a few moves to Justin Bieber when the doorbell rang. She quickly turned off the music and hurried to answer it. There he stood, all gleaming manliness dressed in cream chinos and a light denim shirt, sleeves rolled up to reveal taught and tanned forearms with just the right amount of body hair. Emily had always had a thing about forearms. And calves. The latter she'd just have to hope matched the upper parts. Which she had little doubt would.
‘Hi Emily. You look fantastic. And I love your perfume. Ready to go?’
Joe had leaned forward and pecked her on the cheek, thankfully not asphyxiated by her overzealous scent application. She refrained from gushing that he looked utterly edible, instead smiling at the compliment and locking the door behind her.
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