As I tackle the dust and clutter around the stereo cabinet, I see a DVD with the words Bliss: Third Season.
I feel my cervix tingle.
We’ve been in Indian Summer mode this past month, riding our tandem in the evenings to absorb every particle of light before the descent of winter. Now that Daylight Saving Time is over and we've been thrust into darkness at 4:30 in the afternoon, it is officially movie watching season.
And Bliss is the perfect kick off.
Bliss is an erotic Canadian television series that shows women’s fantasies from the women’s point of view. They are fun, sensual, soft porn shorts.
I pick up the DVD and walk it into my man’s office. He’s totally engrossed in a wildlife manuscript he’s working on for publication.
I shouldn’t bother him, and usually don’t, when he is in scientist mode. It’s painful to watch the grind of his mental gears as he shifts to converse.
But I can’t help myself.
I spin the disc around my index finger. “How about some Bliss tonight?”
At the sound of the word bliss his head pivots towards me so fast I think he’s going to get a whiplash. He looks at me and blinks a few times. His mind is taking a little longer than his body to pull out of statistics.
“Sure.” I even get a smile out of him.
I run my feather duster across his keyboard, flutter it across his lap and go back to my cleaning.
I suddenly have a hot date tonight.
You can order Bliss on Netflix. They get better with each season, but go ahead and indulge a little with Seasons One and Two. Why not? We have about four months of winter ahead.
You'll appreciate Season Three that much more.