The Bed is Made

I have had an itch that I haven't been able to scratch for a very long time. You know what I am talking about.
Last night my dear sister sent me a text ( very raunchy) which I translated and sent to my anglo-saxon friends. The Viking was one of them. I immediately received a text from him and we have arranged for a rendevous on Tuesday. So there it is, he made his bed and he is about to lay on it.
Starting tomorrow, I will be going on my fruit/veggie/good stuff diet to lose like 5 lbs. I will get me a spring it dress from Old Navy. I will shave every single follicle from my chin down and I will smell better than a cinnamon roll. And on the same way, I will do him and rock his world; and that will be my opportunity of getting up and looking at my fake watch ( "ooh, would you look at the time/no hunn, I am going to the buffet: but you were a tiger ) a kiss on the cheek, ( or on the forehead ) and au-revouir. This is a second chance . . .