The sun had set, when he had a glimpse of it through a quick peek at the window. His eyes wandered to the gray clock on the wall. Its hands showed the time of six-thirty, it was getting late. And they were going to be late at their pace of doing things.

Shaking his head lightly, a small amused smile etched on his handsomely face. He strode to the master bedroom, to find her looking lost as ever, eyes darting from left to right, looking at the masses of dress and gowns in front of her and constantly staring at her reflection as she changed from one dress to the other.

He leaned against the door frame, quietly observing the confused look on her beautiful face. He saw her eyes twinkled with satisfaction as her hand touched the satin fabric. A single strap “little black dress”that he bought from Andre Kim’s Autumn Collection, or was it the winter’s collection? Anyway, he could not remember and never bothered to remember. All that matters was she looked good, no, elegant (still not the right word), wonderful (Yes, that’s the right one) and for once, he got the right size. That dress, he approved, nodding with a pleasing smile. Maybe, just, maybe he can get lucky tonight and see her undress, seeing how she seemed to be unaware of his presence.

She walked up to the dressing closet; a knowing smile formed, hidden from his view, and began to undress her comfortable polo shirt and shorts. She slipped into the one strap dress, came out from the dressing closet, and flashed him a quick, dorky smile before returning her attention to the vanity table.

His cheeks turned red at the expense of his embarrassment. But he made no effort to conceal his own smile to match hers, remained leaning against the door frame and continued to observe, silently hoping she would quicken her pace and finished with her dressing affairs, but not too soon. These moments they shared, with no else but them both, were intimate. More intimate when in bed.

She picked up her favourite black eyeliner from the vanity, applied it to both of her eyes. Brown shade was picked as the colour for her eye shadow; she did not want to overdo her make up and he did want that to happen either. Placing a hand on her comb, she brushed her long brown dyed wavy hair, as slow as possible, smirking at her reflection as well as his. Trying to arouse his annoyance, of course.

After a few moments of brushing, she turned to face him. “Do I looked alright?” was the first words spoken following a long instant of uninterrupted silence, and her face portrayed a worried expression.