For months she’d heard tell of her husband’s plans for her birthday, via the gossip of well-meaning employees, all of whom knew she hated surprises. She was the First Lady of the United States, the wife of the President. What she didn’t want, they didn’t allow.

But, she could’ve lived with this one. Though its simplicity bordered easily on uninspired, it wasn’t. It ferried molten heat through her limbs and slackened her sharp wits. It wasn’t an exotic trip nor an expensive ring -- though one hid around here someplace -- but time spent with him.

And juniper-scented massage oil.

 

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