Gita

She drums her fingers on her kitchen counter, admiring the fine spread of food she has prepared for You. She finds herself pacing up and down the linoleum as she waits for the knock at her apartment door. She straightens her apron, again. She hikes up her miniskirt a millimeter or two, again. She re-aligns her cleavage and checks her teeth for lipstick marks or stray bits of coriander, again. Come on, You... Just as she starts to worry that the food will go cold, she hears the knock at her door, and springs into action. She dashes across her kitchen, then slows to a ladylike walk. After one last quick smoothing-down of her apron...and she opens the door with her best smile. "Well, look who it is!"