Jackson Is Hot

Jackson is hot. There’s simply no other way to say it. I recognized this the first time we met, and that feeling just grows and grows with each passing day. Every part of her sings in me, and my days are never complete unless I can provide some act of service for her.

She’s much more than hot, of course. Smart, talented. Much more assured than I am.

On mornings like this, when I wake before her, I love preparing myself to greet her. Make sure my breath is fresh. Maybe prepare breakfast things I can bring to her.

This morning, I am happy just to lie in bed and watch the rising sun warm the bedroom with yellow and white hues from our sunflower curtains. I want to curl my body aside hers, like a kitten. Feel her hand reach out and stroke me. Feel appreciated, and return the appreciation in kind. But I know I need to wait. Let her come out of her dream state and gain her wits about her before she acknowledges me. It’s how she likes it, which makes me want it, too.

I’ve often wondered why I don’t sneak out of bed and perch myself somewhere else in the house - get on with my day until she emerges - but I can’t, unless work life demands it. I live to serve her, and my greatest act of service is being ready for her.

Evenings are different. Evenings are for working late or...