Relax, I tell myself, and forget about your plans. As of today, he’s a thirty-five year old grown man, and perfectly capable of making his own decisions. If this is what he wants first thing on his birthday, then have at it, Mr. Leary.

My tension ebbs away at the exact moment that Logan’s tongue makes its first glide over my sex. Ah, yes! Under the duvet I hear him groan in appreciation and the sound sends a shiver all over my body. My legs go limp and already I’m silently pleading for more.

He wastes no time in focussing his attention onto my clitoris, licking and sucking at it, interchanging both speed and pressure. He buries his face into me, taking me into his mouth as deeply as he can, as a long, loud moan escapes my lips. Then he pulls back his presence and continues with torturously pleasurable lightly-pressured licks.

“Ah!” I wail.

Holy fuck! I don’t know how he does it, but the lack of force he uses drives me crazy. I buck against him, calling out again, intense joy radiating through every cell of my body. A different kind of tension fills me; a good kind. My legs stiffen as I brace for more and my voice jumps half an octave higher with every lick he issues.

Reaching down, I tangle my hands into his hair and urge him closer to me.

Logan laughs and I’m pretty sure I hear him mutter, “Perfection can’t be rushed.”

He continues with his delicate and heavenly windup, until I’m pushed to the edge. He leaves me here for longer than is tolerable, aching for that final nudge. He blows a hot, forceful jet of air against me, and I break, coming magnificently. My unwinding is elongated when he takes me in his mouth once more, and sucks hard, causing me to shriek in sensory overload, my legs trembling on either side of him.

Jeez, the pleasure is never ending with this man. My whole body relaxes and my mind is utterly blank. I’m panting and utterly satiated as he crawls up my body and his head pops out the top of the duvet. He bites my bottom lip looking as gleeful as if I’d just gone down on him. He dips his tongue into my mouth, letting me taste myself.

“Tastes better than birthday cake,” he grins.

I stare at him in awe, my mind suddenly reeling. Oh my god, he’s the sexiest thing that I’ve ever seen! Or heard!

“Either I’ve got an amazing vagina, or my baking skills have gone down hill,” I joke.

“The first,” Logan smiles. “Definitely the first.”

Grinning back at him, I say, “I’m really enjoying your birthday so far, baby.” I take his face in my hands, studying him, before telling him cheekily, “Yup, you’ve got more wrinkles than you had yesterday.”

He squishes me into the bed as I giggle.

“Can I put my special bows on now?” I then ask him.

He nods, but doesn’t move a muscle. Instead he brings his lips to mine and kisses me deeply, as my hands travel all over his taut, beautiful body.

When we eventually break apart, Logan looks at me like he wants to keep me home all day. It’s a look that fills me with butterflies.

“Now you can put on your bows,” he says, though he still doesn’t move.

“You’ll need to get off of me, lover,” I state the obvious, and I’m thrilled by how reluctant he is to leave my company if only for a few moments. Finally he rolls over to his side of the bed, and I dart out of it, telling him, “I’ll be back soon.”

In the dressing room I riffle through my bags, finding all the bits and pieces that I need, and then I race into the bathroom and stand before the mirror, naked. I take the two smaller-sized bows and much like last night, I struggle for longer than most people ever would with getting the sticky backing off of them both, before sticking them into place over my nipples. Now for the medium-sized bow…

I use excess care sticking this one just above my hairline down there, to avoid any painful and unintentional waxing later on. Then I survey myself in the mirror. Very festive, I think, perfect for this occasion.

Running back to the dressing room, I retrieve Logan’s presents and cards and hide them behind my back, putting my bow-clad body on full display to him, knowing that he’ll appreciate it. I stand around the corner, just out of his line of sight, bracing myself. I clear my throat loudly. Here goes!

When I thought this moment through in my mind, I naturally assumed that I’d serenade him in a Marilyn Monroe-esque manner. However, when I round the corner and start singing, the sound that issues from me is significantly different to anything wispy and sexy. It’s loud, and if it’s possible to sing happy birthday out of tune then I’m doing it right now. Logan is sitting up, his back resting against the headboard, and when he sees me his face lights up, his mouth and eyes opening wide. He laughs in glee at the sight of my birthday bows, which are wiggling as I do a skip-walk over to the bed, before jumping onto it, continuing to move closer to him.

I reach the third, dreaded line. “Happy birthday,” damn that high note, “dear, Logan! Happy birthday to you!” I hit another high note because: why the fuck not? In for a penny, in for a pound, I think.

Logan laughs and applauds my valiant effort at serenading. I stand on either side of his legs so that my lowest bow is head height for him. Then I drop to my knees, straddling him, the movement of which causes one of my bows to fall off.

“We’ve lost one!” I yell.

“Gemima,” Logan covers his face, his body trembling from laughter.

“You’d better be laughing with me,” I giggle.

He nods, lowering his hands to my waist, his eyes gratified as he takes all of me in.

“What are you thinking?” I ask him.

“I don’t know what to think. That’s the funniest and the sexiest thing that I’ve ever seen!”

That’s a perfect combination. “Glad to hear it,” I smile.

“You’re amazing,” he tells me. “I’ve never met anyone with so little inhibition. It’s inspiring. And I’ve never been fond of bows, but baby, you just changed my mind.”

“Seeing as you’re not going to the Moulin Rouge…”

He laughs again. “Very thoughtful.”

“Speaking of…” I hand him his presents and cards, and say, “Happy Birthday, Logan.”

He takes them, his eyes widening again, and he exclaims, “I forgot about these! After seeing the terrace last night I wasn’t expecting anything today.” He looks from them to me, his face full of excitement. Letting them sit in the small space between his body and mine, Logan takes my face in his hands. His eyes soften and he gazes at me with more love than I’ve ever seen conveyed in one look before. “You’re amazing,” he tells me again. “I’m the luckiest man in the world to wake up next to you, Gemima.” He kisses the tip of my nose and then presses his lips against mine for one long, delicious moment. “Presents,” he then says, his excitement back.

I laugh and pick up the two cards, telling him, “This one is for public display on a table or bookshelf. And this one is for your eyes only.”

Grinning, he opens the proper one first, reading my words attentively, before looking up once more and saying, “I love you too, baby. So much.”

I beam back at him and nod to the second card, which he opens with haste.

“Oh my god,” he smiles, as he takes in the image that I’ve drawn. “That’s…that’s better than Buddy’s drawing!”

Giggling, I tell him, “It’s a depiction of our imminent activity. And now you know why I was so horny when I went to bed on Monday night…”

“Suddenly the sex dream makes more sense,” he agrees. “I’ll keep this in my locked office drawer,” he decides. “Something to make dull days pass faster.”

“This is for the office too,” I hand him the smallest of his three presents. “Meaning that you have to wear it, assuming you’re working today,” I say, only just realising that he might be having the day off.