To do list

I'm going to ask her today.

I'm so excited, I can hardly wait. I know she'll say yes, there's no doubt about that. Perhaps there's a point-two percent chance she'll say no. But that's such slim odds I'm not even going to bother giving it any thought. No, she's definitely going to say yes.

I'm looking at the ring now, holding it up to the light. It's stunning, gorgeous. It's a silver band with over two carats of diamond nestled in the center framed by tiny blue sapphire gems. It's just... wow. I've been saving this for years for her. I knew I wanted to marry the moment we met, but... these things take time now. It's not the done thing to sweep someone of their feet and marry them within a month of meeting. It makes people think it's not going to last because it was so impulsive. But I knew. I'm almost 100 percent sure she knows now too.

Shower next. The hot water cascades down my body and when the steam dissipates, so does the tension in my muscles. I rub soap into my chest. The hair there is becoming matted in the foamy lather. She always loves playing with those hairs. I rub soap into my neck, massaging the base with my fingers, feeling the strong tendons loosen with my insistent touch. When I start to clean my flaccid member, I'm tempted to liven it up a little and relieve myself. But I remember tonight, and decide I want to save everything for her.

I'm clean, smelling of aftershave and now what to wear. I pick khaki twilled jeans with a black shirt under a light blue v-neck. I probably looks a mess; she'll probably think so anyway. Not that it matters. Both of us know clothes aren't my strong point. I'm trying to be discerning about what I wear for tonight, but really there isn't much point in trying.

I put on my socks, watch and shoes. Dressed now. Time to get the food. I head out of my apartment and down to the street. I stop by my local fish-mongers on the way to M&S and pick up the live clams. They're in season now, so I know they'll be at their finest. At the supermarket, I pick up shallots, chillies, garlic, cream and coriander. I know she loves those flavours and they'll go well with the clams. I'm going to prepare her something luxurious, yet simple. Next stop is a bakers that sells the most intensely chocolaty cheesecake either of us have had. I got her one for her birthday a year or two back and she's been hinting at getting it again ever since. The price is prohibitive though, as much as I want to shower her with money and gifts, £250 is a little excessive for a dessert. But tonight, who cares about price. I also buy some crusty french stick to go with the clams.

Now alcohol. What sort of proposal dinner is complete without fine champagne? I head to a specialist store close to her flat that has the biggest variety of alcohol imaginable in the UK. I choose a delicate white to simmer the clams in and a bottle of champagne I can't afford. I'm nearly set now.

I arrive at her flat and ring the door. I'm not nervous. I'm not afraid. I'm so sure she'll say yes, I can just relax and prepare this delicious meal and laugh and chat with her. She answers the door. She's so lovely when she smiles, her auburn hair falls about her pretty face alluringly and I go in to kiss her lips lightly. They're so soft. I can feel my body respond to her with arousal and I try to contain myself - not yet.

I walk into her scented flat. It's homey and cosy, cushions scattered over the sofa, soft lighting and rugs and throws wherever possible. I like walking into her space. I can sense some of her warmth here. She takes my bags and squeals when she peeks into them. Yes, I'm telling her, I'm planning on treating her like the queen she is tonight. She stops her trek into the kitchen to smile gently at me. Then she walks to me and kisses me again, a little more passion in her actions. I get the impressions she's finding it hard to stay focused on food too.

I wrap my arms around her slim waist and nuzzle her neck while she chatters at me and washes the clams. I breathe her in. So sweet. I rarely smile these days, not without her around. But with her it's all I can do not to smile. I ask her if there's anything pretty she can wear, not that she needs it. I bought a new dress last week, she tells me, should I put that on? I don't really want her to go, I just want an excuse to get everything ready and I know she spends an age and a half getting ready. I nod at her and tell her to take her time.

She does just that. By the time she arrives, I've chopped the shallots, garlic, chillies and coriander and fried them for a few minutes. I've thrown in the clams, some of the white wine and cooked them for a few minutes more. I've laid the table with her best crockery and warmed the bread up. I've added the cream to the clams and served it in bowls, steaming hot. The champagne is chilled too.

She walks in with a stunning shimmering purple number that accentuates every curve of her body. Her face is prettily made up and her hair swept from her face to a complicated knot. She's wearing pearls around her neck and ears. She looks sensational. I say something to her and she giggles, blushing slightly. I can feel my hard-on pushing its agenda to me. Not yet! I tell myself and beckon for her to sit down.

She talks about her work while we eat. I try not to think about how much I want to drag her to her room and - not yet! I top up her champagne glass. We've now moved onto holidays and where we'll go this year. I've never been to Japan, I tell her and she rolls her eyes. Okay I've never been to Greece, I lie, and she flashes me a grin. We went last year, but it seems that's where she'd like to go again. It's the last thing on my mind, holidays. I clear our plates away and bring out that desert. She looks at it longingly and gobbles her piece up before I've even served mine. I look up at her with a look of disbelief and there is an awkward silence between us. She also has a chocolate streak down her chin which she discreetly tries to wipe off. It's too much for me and I burst out laughing. She follows suit and for a while we amuse ourselves with impressions of her rapacious appetite. She has tears in her eyes and so do I. Oh shush! She tells me giggling, you should see what you're like with pork scratchings!

Finally, while we eat our third portion of the chocolate cheesecake, I decide it is time to ask her. The light of the room caresses her magnificently. She's just lovely. I feel myself overwhelmed with so much longing for her. I can barely contain my excitement. And my arousal. I slip off my chair and get down on one knee. She tilts her head and peers at me questioningly. Then her eyes light up and she simply stares at me. I take her hand in mine and I say those words, all the while reaching into my pocket for th- NO! I forgot the ring...