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Smoove B's Interplanetary Cocoa Love
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Clare Quilty
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fille said:
I think you're showing more taste than age. Al Green never goes out of style.
shereads
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From the Smoove Boudoir at theonion.com
Girl, This Other Man Is No Good For You
Baby, I have sat patiently for a long time while another man has kept you warm at night, made sweet love to you, and presented you with gifts of jewelry and various shirts.
But I know that when you are alone, you think about how much better your life would be if you were back with me, if it were me sexing you wild instead of him. Do you know what I am saying? You know in your heart that it is Smoove B you want, not this other man.
I am here to tell you that I will be your man. This other man, he cannot do the things Smoove B can.
This other man, does he purchase the finest scented oils from the remotest reaches of the East Orient, mix them in a special blend of his own devising, and then gently rub the exquisite balm into your soft brown flesh?
This other man, does he toil all day in his kitchen to prepare a gourmet meal of cooked pheasant and mashed potatoes for you? Does he personally mash the potatoes with the same tender love with which I would massage your beautiful muscles? Does he prepare corn on the cob and beets with the finest French wine to top off the delicious meal? Does he serve this meal on the finest china plates available for purchase? No, only Smoove B can do these various things for you.
In addition, when he makes dinner for you, are peas also served?
This other man, does he draw a bubble bath for you in the large, round bathtub in his fourth-floor penthouse, scrubbing your back with soaps created in the most exclusive soap factories in Egypt? Does he do so slowly and delicately, so as to give you the maximum amount of pleasure? When you are through, does he offer to dry you off with a fine plush towel made of 100 percent cotton? No, only Smoove B will do these things for you. Furthermore, does he clear away the plastic wrapping in which the soap was packaged, so as to ensure that it does not get in your way?
Sweet thing, as I have clearly demonstrated thus far in this column, I am unquestionably the better man for you. There can be no deniability of this fact. But you have not even heard the most convincing information to this regard.
This other man, does he freak you like an animal, putting his sting in you sideways?
Does he hit you up doggy-style until the sun comes up?
Does he whisper in your ear that you are the most precious, sexiest gift of God that has ever existed in all of creation?
No. Only Smoove B will do this for you. And only Smoove B will do it in sheets made of the most exotic European satin.
Follow your heart, baby. And come back to Smoove.
Girl, This Other Man Is No Good For You
Baby, I have sat patiently for a long time while another man has kept you warm at night, made sweet love to you, and presented you with gifts of jewelry and various shirts.
But I know that when you are alone, you think about how much better your life would be if you were back with me, if it were me sexing you wild instead of him. Do you know what I am saying? You know in your heart that it is Smoove B you want, not this other man.
I am here to tell you that I will be your man. This other man, he cannot do the things Smoove B can.
This other man, does he purchase the finest scented oils from the remotest reaches of the East Orient, mix them in a special blend of his own devising, and then gently rub the exquisite balm into your soft brown flesh?
This other man, does he toil all day in his kitchen to prepare a gourmet meal of cooked pheasant and mashed potatoes for you? Does he personally mash the potatoes with the same tender love with which I would massage your beautiful muscles? Does he prepare corn on the cob and beets with the finest French wine to top off the delicious meal? Does he serve this meal on the finest china plates available for purchase? No, only Smoove B can do these various things for you.
In addition, when he makes dinner for you, are peas also served?
This other man, does he draw a bubble bath for you in the large, round bathtub in his fourth-floor penthouse, scrubbing your back with soaps created in the most exclusive soap factories in Egypt? Does he do so slowly and delicately, so as to give you the maximum amount of pleasure? When you are through, does he offer to dry you off with a fine plush towel made of 100 percent cotton? No, only Smoove B will do these things for you. Furthermore, does he clear away the plastic wrapping in which the soap was packaged, so as to ensure that it does not get in your way?
Sweet thing, as I have clearly demonstrated thus far in this column, I am unquestionably the better man for you. There can be no deniability of this fact. But you have not even heard the most convincing information to this regard.
This other man, does he freak you like an animal, putting his sting in you sideways?
Does he hit you up doggy-style until the sun comes up?
Does he whisper in your ear that you are the most precious, sexiest gift of God that has ever existed in all of creation?
No. Only Smoove B will do this for you. And only Smoove B will do it in sheets made of the most exotic European satin.
Follow your heart, baby. And come back to Smoove.
shereads
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Corn For Two
Smoove B:
This side dish will exceed your expectations. It goes with a dazzling array of main courses. If you are making someone a dinner, impromptu or otherwise, you should keep this recipe in mind. The best time to make this is during the late summer when the corn is most sumptuous, but you can always have some corn shipped to you from faraway corn lands, where they produce, year round, corn that meets your exacting eating standards.
Be good to the corn, and those who eat your corn will be good to you.
Ingredients:
* 3 ears of sweet corn
* 1 tablespoon of olive oil (I find that those from Italy are the best)
* 1 teaspoon of fresh parsley, chopped
* 1 teaspoon of fresh tarragon, chopped
* 1 slice of bacon, cooked and crumbled
* Salt and freshly ground pepper
* 1 tablespoon of butter (optional)
The first thing that you must do is grasp the ears of corn. Do this firmly but tenderly. Using only the sharpest knife from your cutlery, remove the juicy kernels. Place all of the kernels in a fine, but not overly fine, bowl. This bowl is merely for temporary kernel storage, so do not waste a classy bowl. Take a saucepan that will in no way allow the corn to stick to its bottom, and place the olive oil into it. Turn the heat on medium high. When you feel that the pan has reached the correct temperature, add the kernels of corn and stir them like you are making love to a woman you hold in high regard, gently but consistently. Stir until the corn is heated all the way through; do not cook your corn only halfway. Half-cooked corn is a recipe for disaster.
Stir in the parsley, tarragon, and bacon. Season with salt and freshly ground pepper. Add butter, and stir corn until butter is melted. Now is the time for a bowl that should be seen by a lady who is fine. I recommend bone china from the farthest reaches of the Asian continent, or if you prefer, styrene. Also you may serve corn right on the entrŽe plate, should the evening be not going to your liking.
Peace.
Smoove B:
This side dish will exceed your expectations. It goes with a dazzling array of main courses. If you are making someone a dinner, impromptu or otherwise, you should keep this recipe in mind. The best time to make this is during the late summer when the corn is most sumptuous, but you can always have some corn shipped to you from faraway corn lands, where they produce, year round, corn that meets your exacting eating standards.
Be good to the corn, and those who eat your corn will be good to you.
Ingredients:
* 3 ears of sweet corn
* 1 tablespoon of olive oil (I find that those from Italy are the best)
* 1 teaspoon of fresh parsley, chopped
* 1 teaspoon of fresh tarragon, chopped
* 1 slice of bacon, cooked and crumbled
* Salt and freshly ground pepper
* 1 tablespoon of butter (optional)
The first thing that you must do is grasp the ears of corn. Do this firmly but tenderly. Using only the sharpest knife from your cutlery, remove the juicy kernels. Place all of the kernels in a fine, but not overly fine, bowl. This bowl is merely for temporary kernel storage, so do not waste a classy bowl. Take a saucepan that will in no way allow the corn to stick to its bottom, and place the olive oil into it. Turn the heat on medium high. When you feel that the pan has reached the correct temperature, add the kernels of corn and stir them like you are making love to a woman you hold in high regard, gently but consistently. Stir until the corn is heated all the way through; do not cook your corn only halfway. Half-cooked corn is a recipe for disaster.
Stir in the parsley, tarragon, and bacon. Season with salt and freshly ground pepper. Add butter, and stir corn until butter is melted. Now is the time for a bowl that should be seen by a lady who is fine. I recommend bone china from the farthest reaches of the Asian continent, or if you prefer, styrene. Also you may serve corn right on the entrŽe plate, should the evening be not going to your liking.
Peace.
shereads
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Clare Quilty said:
Martha is of the opinion that thread-count is sometimes over-stressed as a measure of quality, in that double-twisting inferior cotton thread can achieve a high thread-count without producing a softer sheet. Martha would wish you to note the type of cotton thread: if it is long-staple, such as Egyptian or American Supima, a thread-count of 350 to 400 will produce a smooth, soft sheet.
Jacquard weaves, in my opinion, spoil the effect.
As for the whorehouse-ness and Texas-ness of silk sheets, you are perhaps referring to silk satin, which is more often represented at Linens N Things by polyester satin, which is just nasty to sleep on for anyone who ever plans to perspire. A silk/cotton blend sheet lacks the sheen of satin but can be most smoove and fine.
G
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Guest
I suppose it's not smoove, but I like thick flannel sheets (in bright colors).
Perdita
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dr_mabeuse
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Smoove B, I’m afraid you must excuse your sorry self, because the Doctor is in this house, with just what the ladies want in his little black bag, or placed conveniently at hand near the mattress he keeps in the back of his Plymouth Caravan of Love.
Don’t misunderstand me. My official Love Doctor shingle is no longer hanging up in a figurative manner, which is why my door is not at this very moment busting down with the eager knocks of sick ladies eager for what the Doctor has to offer. But my moves continue to be notoriously legendary and world class, as all would admit. And they still continue to get better.
My assortment of fine wines, for example: look at those subdued labels. They scream class as if in a subdued French accent, as they have no pictures of stock cars nor cartoon characters upon them, just words of class in a romantic foreign tongue. The tops? Real cork, not metal twist-off or pop-top. Well, maybe not all are real cork. Some use this new space-age polymer which is even far superior and is easier on the ecology, and some of these exotic vintages come in convenient plastic-lines tote-boxes, which I keep stacked against the wall in my Love garage. But when you imbibe their delicious tasting bouquets, you will be forced to admit that the Doctor is far ahead of the times in wine-packaging technology. Their freshness and your enjoyment are both assured.
As for sheets, you should know that I eschew those vulgar satin items. No. Mine do not make that annoying voop, voop sound as we slide around re-enacting the twelve sexual positions of the Love zodiac. My sheets are stapled to my bed with the heaviest grade industrial staples to avoid the nuisance of sexual sheet-creep, and once on are never removed, not even for washing. The Doctor uses a special carpet steamer to clean them deep down and irons them in place to avoid those wrinkles that might mar your flawless beauty from laying on them. Thus your peace of mind is ensured as you know that your sexual ecstasy shall be entirely hygienic and germ-free. The only shiny spots on my sheets are those your breathtaking ass will create as you slide back and forth under the rapturous thrill of my penile onslaught.
My bed, in fact, has been stripped of its headboard and footboard. Not even the frame remains. It is nailed securely to my luxuriously carpeted floor, so there is no need to fear that distracting and embarrassing banging of the headboard against the wall as I dose you up with my pink love-thermometer. I have even provided handles and straps in the walls for your holding convenience, for the Doctor is a veritable Wild Bull of the Pampas when the urge overtakes him. You will need these handles when you attempt to exit my love nest to make your bathroom ablutions and fetch us another cold box of wine, as your knees will be as weak as gelatin dessert. Your spine shall be chilled. Your breathtaking ass shall be limp with pleasure.
So I would thus suggest that you women make your appointments early so I can light the strawberry incense and put the Flamenco tapes on my eight track.
The Doctor will see you now.
---dr.M.
Don’t misunderstand me. My official Love Doctor shingle is no longer hanging up in a figurative manner, which is why my door is not at this very moment busting down with the eager knocks of sick ladies eager for what the Doctor has to offer. But my moves continue to be notoriously legendary and world class, as all would admit. And they still continue to get better.
My assortment of fine wines, for example: look at those subdued labels. They scream class as if in a subdued French accent, as they have no pictures of stock cars nor cartoon characters upon them, just words of class in a romantic foreign tongue. The tops? Real cork, not metal twist-off or pop-top. Well, maybe not all are real cork. Some use this new space-age polymer which is even far superior and is easier on the ecology, and some of these exotic vintages come in convenient plastic-lines tote-boxes, which I keep stacked against the wall in my Love garage. But when you imbibe their delicious tasting bouquets, you will be forced to admit that the Doctor is far ahead of the times in wine-packaging technology. Their freshness and your enjoyment are both assured.
As for sheets, you should know that I eschew those vulgar satin items. No. Mine do not make that annoying voop, voop sound as we slide around re-enacting the twelve sexual positions of the Love zodiac. My sheets are stapled to my bed with the heaviest grade industrial staples to avoid the nuisance of sexual sheet-creep, and once on are never removed, not even for washing. The Doctor uses a special carpet steamer to clean them deep down and irons them in place to avoid those wrinkles that might mar your flawless beauty from laying on them. Thus your peace of mind is ensured as you know that your sexual ecstasy shall be entirely hygienic and germ-free. The only shiny spots on my sheets are those your breathtaking ass will create as you slide back and forth under the rapturous thrill of my penile onslaught.
My bed, in fact, has been stripped of its headboard and footboard. Not even the frame remains. It is nailed securely to my luxuriously carpeted floor, so there is no need to fear that distracting and embarrassing banging of the headboard against the wall as I dose you up with my pink love-thermometer. I have even provided handles and straps in the walls for your holding convenience, for the Doctor is a veritable Wild Bull of the Pampas when the urge overtakes him. You will need these handles when you attempt to exit my love nest to make your bathroom ablutions and fetch us another cold box of wine, as your knees will be as weak as gelatin dessert. Your spine shall be chilled. Your breathtaking ass shall be limp with pleasure.
So I would thus suggest that you women make your appointments early so I can light the strawberry incense and put the Flamenco tapes on my eight track.
The Doctor will see you now.
---dr.M.
shereads
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dr_mabeuse said:
If you will dose me with your pink love thermometer, you will find that I've been running a lust fever since you described how you staple the sheets to the bed.
You are more than fine.
Edited to add: I have health insurance.
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shereads
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Turn The Lights Down Low
Additional smooveness from the Smoove Boudoir archives, theonion.com
Girl, I am going to treat you to a romantic night tonight.
I know you have enjoyed being freaked wild by me in the past. We have made love all night long. We have been drenched in sweat, bumping and grinding between my satin sheets like wild animals in a heated lust. We have hit the skins doggy-style. But tonight, baby, I am going to change the pace. I am going to soften the mood. Let Smoove B orchestrate an evening of romance for you. Here is how I am going to do that:
I am going to turn the lights down low. And I am going to be more gentle with you than you could ever imagine. I am going to prepare for you a gourmet meal the likes of which a queen has not even seen. There will be romantic music playing while we eat the meal. We will listen to something with class, such as Anita Baker or Luther, or perhaps my special "Smoove Groove" mix tape. And I will have candles present to set the mood just right.
You will be treated like a lady. You have my word on that.
I will serve you cooked pheasant with succulent gravy and white wine. I will serve you hand and foot. I will serve you on a soft, silk table-cloth that has been freshly laundered and purchased from the finest table-cloth store in all of creation. It will be the most spectacular dinner you have ever consumed.
There will also be corn served.
For dessert, we will eat sorbet from France. To procure this sorbet, I will take a plane to France and inspect all of the finest ice-cream merchants that I can locate, and I will purchase only the sorbet that passes my very strict standard of quality. It must be firm and flavorful, yet melt in your mouth. I will fly back to you with the sorbet, and I will feed it to you on a spoon of the finest silver construction, polished for days on end. I will slave with rags and polishing cleansers in agony just for one moment of your pleasure.
Baby, I can't stand it. Straddle me right here, right now. Let me bring you off nasty.
Damn.
After dessert, I will turn the lights down even lower, and we will adjourn to my leather sofa next to my bay window, which overlooks the city lights. Wind will blow through the open window upon your beautiful skin, and you will ask that I hold you. And I will do so. This is how it will go down.
I will caress your entire dark, chocolate body, and I will whisper in your ear various phrases which express how beautiful your body is. I will say, "Girl, I care for you very deeply. You have the most beautiful body that has ever been created, and I have got to bag it." And you will quiver with pleasure.
After several more hours of intense pleasure from my soft, light strokes and my romantic words, I will put my sting in you, down low. And it will be the most romantic experience of your life. I promise.
Smoove out.
Additional smooveness from the Smoove Boudoir archives, theonion.com
Girl, I am going to treat you to a romantic night tonight.
I know you have enjoyed being freaked wild by me in the past. We have made love all night long. We have been drenched in sweat, bumping and grinding between my satin sheets like wild animals in a heated lust. We have hit the skins doggy-style. But tonight, baby, I am going to change the pace. I am going to soften the mood. Let Smoove B orchestrate an evening of romance for you. Here is how I am going to do that:
I am going to turn the lights down low. And I am going to be more gentle with you than you could ever imagine. I am going to prepare for you a gourmet meal the likes of which a queen has not even seen. There will be romantic music playing while we eat the meal. We will listen to something with class, such as Anita Baker or Luther, or perhaps my special "Smoove Groove" mix tape. And I will have candles present to set the mood just right.
You will be treated like a lady. You have my word on that.
I will serve you cooked pheasant with succulent gravy and white wine. I will serve you hand and foot. I will serve you on a soft, silk table-cloth that has been freshly laundered and purchased from the finest table-cloth store in all of creation. It will be the most spectacular dinner you have ever consumed.
There will also be corn served.
For dessert, we will eat sorbet from France. To procure this sorbet, I will take a plane to France and inspect all of the finest ice-cream merchants that I can locate, and I will purchase only the sorbet that passes my very strict standard of quality. It must be firm and flavorful, yet melt in your mouth. I will fly back to you with the sorbet, and I will feed it to you on a spoon of the finest silver construction, polished for days on end. I will slave with rags and polishing cleansers in agony just for one moment of your pleasure.
Baby, I can't stand it. Straddle me right here, right now. Let me bring you off nasty.
Damn.
After dessert, I will turn the lights down even lower, and we will adjourn to my leather sofa next to my bay window, which overlooks the city lights. Wind will blow through the open window upon your beautiful skin, and you will ask that I hold you. And I will do so. This is how it will go down.
I will caress your entire dark, chocolate body, and I will whisper in your ear various phrases which express how beautiful your body is. I will say, "Girl, I care for you very deeply. You have the most beautiful body that has ever been created, and I have got to bag it." And you will quiver with pleasure.
After several more hours of intense pleasure from my soft, light strokes and my romantic words, I will put my sting in you, down low. And it will be the most romantic experience of your life. I promise.
Smoove out.
shereads
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dr_mabeuse
seduce the mind
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shereads said:
From that site:
" How is crab romantic, you ask?
Oh! Let us count the ways..."
Argh! What's that crawling around in my pubic hair?!
I've been smooved! My ass has been totally bagged!
---Zoot
lucky-E-leven
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shereads said:
And I do, thank you very much.
Clare Quilty
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shereads said:
I referred to quality linens from well established manufacturers, not the inflated thread-count, made-in-china affrairs one typically finds at discount bedding and bath stores. I prefer 100% cotton sheets to either silk or silk/cotton blends. A quality cotton sateen sheet set is, IMO, just as soft as silk but more absorbent, durable and easy to care for. I'm not inclined to hand-wash sheets. Also, I'm of the opinion that sheets that cost, even at a considerable discount, upwards of $100 should last for decades.
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dr_mabeuse
seduce the mind
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At the Doctor's Love Lair I use nothing but the finest polyethylene drop cloths from Home Depot instead of sheets. That way there are none of those disconcerting Mazola Oil stains to distract you from the wondrous tornados of pleasure you'll receive from my freak-o-delic ass-bagging.
--Zoot
--Zoot
lucky-E-leven
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Is this the sign-up thread for freak-a-dellic ass-bagging?
shereads
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Clare Quilty said:
Fine, now that Martha can't defend her views on thread-count as a measure of sheet quality, you can feel free to demean her legacy.
Just keep in mind the quality of people she'll bond with over the next six months. And watch your back at the spring white sales in '05
shereads
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From this week's edition of The Onion
Give Me Just One More Chance
By Smoove B
Love Man
If you knew how much pain I am in while I write this column, you would read it all the way to the end and be moved by the heartache in every word. Each sentence contains the pain of my soul, and in particular the part of the soul that yearns for you but has been pushed aside.
I know that the last time we saw each other, you said you never wanted to see Smoove again. I know you have not responded to my e-mails, text messages, phone calls, faxes, or shouts from the street. I know you say you have another man who treats you better than Smoove. If it didn't hurt so much, I would laugh at this statement.
Do you not remember the magic we shared while we were together? When we touched, it was like we were floating on air, and we would float there all night until the sun came up. Do you really not remember this magic? Your new man cannot create this type of magic for you, because you and I are bound by a powerful force.
Can your new man make your whole body tingle with pleasure from a single kiss to your neck? Does your new man blindfold you and take you to another level of sensual experiences? Does your new man always smell as though he has just stepped out of the shower? Girl, you need that magic in your life again.
I know that I have already stated this, but this man is not right for you.
You say this man treats you like a princess, but didn't Smoove treat you like a queen? You say this man buys you jewelry and assorted designer handbags, but didn't Smoove buy you whatever your heart desired? You say this man takes you out on the town, but didn't Smoove also take you to the finest restaurants in the tri-county area, in addition to preparing you home-cooked meals using unusual gourmet mushrooms?
I know I can make things like they were. Give Smoove another chanceÑjust one more chance, girl. I know I can make you forget about this handbag-giving man. If you would only listen to my apologies, you would know how serious I am about getting you back. Accept the gifts of chocolate, silken evening gowns, and flowers, and you will see how much I care. Only one glance at the price tag on any of these high-quality items should make you leave this man and run back to my waiting arms.
Please let me know if my words have touched your heart. Promise you will pick up the phone when I call. I don't think my soul can take the news that another message has gone unheard or deleted.
Just give me one evening. That is all I will need to make you love me again. You don't have to tell your man that we are meeting. If you wish, you could tell him that you are spending an evening alone with a friend, or that you are visiting a sick relative, or that you won a coupon for an evening at an overnight spa. Whichever of the three you choose, please make it soon. I cannot wait to drink in the loveliness that you have kept from me for so long.
Also, I'd like to smell your hair. You use the finest shampoo. As you know, I purchased a bottle of it for your use when at my home, but the scent of the shampoo is not the same unless it is mixed in with your hair. Smoove knows this.
You may be wondering how I plan to win you back in only one night, when there were so many problems between us. As this evening must be the most magical, sensual, and perfect night of your entire life, I will keep the details of it a secret in order to bring your arousal to its highest peak.
As a teaser, I will say that a few things will, without a doubt, occur. First, I will compliment you and express sincere regret over what happened between us. I will extend feelings of tenderness and warmth. Then, we will reminisce about the good times that we once shared. Dinner, which will have been carefully prepared over the course of the previous 24 hours, will be served at around 8. During dinner, as well as afterward, we will drink the finest wine from the best wine-producing regions of Australia. Or, if that wine does not meet your exacting standards, I will provide backup wines from the finest wine-producing regions of Chile, France, California, and Germany.
There will also be warm appetizers.
After dinner, I will hit you doggy-style. This doggy-style sexing will last all night long. I remember that this is the way that you like it.
If this night of intriguing possibility does not warm your heart, then perhaps you are truly lost to me. But Smoove still has hope in his heart that this one last effort to win back your love will work. If you only would pick up that phone, I know it would succeed.
Perhaps I am wrong. Perhaps this other man possesses qualities that Smoove does not know about. From what I hear, you two often go to the movies together. Perhaps he has an unlimited pass at the theater or friends who work at the box office and give you two a discount. In spite of your new man's apparent wealth of movie passes, I beg you to give me one more chance. If you do not like the idea of the evening I described above and would rather just go to the movies, we can do that, too. We can do whatever your heart truly desires. I know I can make things right again.
You have my cell-phone number if you wish to call.
Smoove out.
Give Me Just One More Chance
By Smoove B
Love Man
If you knew how much pain I am in while I write this column, you would read it all the way to the end and be moved by the heartache in every word. Each sentence contains the pain of my soul, and in particular the part of the soul that yearns for you but has been pushed aside.
I know that the last time we saw each other, you said you never wanted to see Smoove again. I know you have not responded to my e-mails, text messages, phone calls, faxes, or shouts from the street. I know you say you have another man who treats you better than Smoove. If it didn't hurt so much, I would laugh at this statement.
Do you not remember the magic we shared while we were together? When we touched, it was like we were floating on air, and we would float there all night until the sun came up. Do you really not remember this magic? Your new man cannot create this type of magic for you, because you and I are bound by a powerful force.
Can your new man make your whole body tingle with pleasure from a single kiss to your neck? Does your new man blindfold you and take you to another level of sensual experiences? Does your new man always smell as though he has just stepped out of the shower? Girl, you need that magic in your life again.
I know that I have already stated this, but this man is not right for you.
You say this man treats you like a princess, but didn't Smoove treat you like a queen? You say this man buys you jewelry and assorted designer handbags, but didn't Smoove buy you whatever your heart desired? You say this man takes you out on the town, but didn't Smoove also take you to the finest restaurants in the tri-county area, in addition to preparing you home-cooked meals using unusual gourmet mushrooms?
I know I can make things like they were. Give Smoove another chanceÑjust one more chance, girl. I know I can make you forget about this handbag-giving man. If you would only listen to my apologies, you would know how serious I am about getting you back. Accept the gifts of chocolate, silken evening gowns, and flowers, and you will see how much I care. Only one glance at the price tag on any of these high-quality items should make you leave this man and run back to my waiting arms.
Please let me know if my words have touched your heart. Promise you will pick up the phone when I call. I don't think my soul can take the news that another message has gone unheard or deleted.
Just give me one evening. That is all I will need to make you love me again. You don't have to tell your man that we are meeting. If you wish, you could tell him that you are spending an evening alone with a friend, or that you are visiting a sick relative, or that you won a coupon for an evening at an overnight spa. Whichever of the three you choose, please make it soon. I cannot wait to drink in the loveliness that you have kept from me for so long.
Also, I'd like to smell your hair. You use the finest shampoo. As you know, I purchased a bottle of it for your use when at my home, but the scent of the shampoo is not the same unless it is mixed in with your hair. Smoove knows this.
You may be wondering how I plan to win you back in only one night, when there were so many problems between us. As this evening must be the most magical, sensual, and perfect night of your entire life, I will keep the details of it a secret in order to bring your arousal to its highest peak.
As a teaser, I will say that a few things will, without a doubt, occur. First, I will compliment you and express sincere regret over what happened between us. I will extend feelings of tenderness and warmth. Then, we will reminisce about the good times that we once shared. Dinner, which will have been carefully prepared over the course of the previous 24 hours, will be served at around 8. During dinner, as well as afterward, we will drink the finest wine from the best wine-producing regions of Australia. Or, if that wine does not meet your exacting standards, I will provide backup wines from the finest wine-producing regions of Chile, France, California, and Germany.
There will also be warm appetizers.
After dinner, I will hit you doggy-style. This doggy-style sexing will last all night long. I remember that this is the way that you like it.
If this night of intriguing possibility does not warm your heart, then perhaps you are truly lost to me. But Smoove still has hope in his heart that this one last effort to win back your love will work. If you only would pick up that phone, I know it would succeed.
Perhaps I am wrong. Perhaps this other man possesses qualities that Smoove does not know about. From what I hear, you two often go to the movies together. Perhaps he has an unlimited pass at the theater or friends who work at the box office and give you two a discount. In spite of your new man's apparent wealth of movie passes, I beg you to give me one more chance. If you do not like the idea of the evening I described above and would rather just go to the movies, we can do that, too. We can do whatever your heart truly desires. I know I can make things right again.
You have my cell-phone number if you wish to call.
Smoove out.
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