I do a fair amount of traveling and like many guys I have a picture of my wife on my laptop to remind me of her when I'm away from home. It's not the kind of picture, however, that I would use as wallpaper or a screen saver. It's a photo for my own private viewing.
In the photo, Anne is reclining on a leather couch wearing a lacy black bra which barely covers her beautiful 34C breasts.
I sat in the lounge, swirling my gin & tonic, absently tapping a finger to the piped music. Nothing about this trip had lined up as it should have: a week in Florence, now on my second day in Rome, with nothing to show for it. My backers would not be pleased, but I was not concerned with their disapproval. I'm too much of a professional to place anything above my own standards.
"Hon, would you get the door. That's probably Mark"
Jenna, like usual, was running late. A pile of dresses lay on the bedroom floor, as she scrutinized the latest choice in the full-length mirror in the upstairs bathroom. Although the latest option was not as flattering as she'd hoped, she realized that it would have to suffice if they were going to make their dinner reservations, and she frantically began the process of applying make-up.