It takes a lot of imagination to make long-distance love work. Phone sex and e-mail flirtation aren't the same as having a warm body to reach for in the night. Sometimes, though, they're even better. When Mark comes home with a bunch of flowers and a sheepish look on his face, I know that he's got to travel for work again. This is the third time in as many months that he's left me on my own for a week while he goes off to client meetings all over the world.

"So where is it this time?" I ask him sulkily, offering him my cheek, not my lips, when he bends down for his kiss. "Tokyo? Seattle? Munich?" I turn away. I don't mean to snap, and really I should be grateful; Mark is six feet two of gorgeous husband: funny, sexy, faithful, and a right horny little bastard. He would be perfect if only he were here a little more often. His sales job at IT means that we have our gorgeous home and that my own salary is pretty much pocket money. Because of Mark I have an amazing lifestyle. So I really shouldn't complain.

I just miss him so desperately when he goes away. I can't sleep alone and, my God, the sex! I miss the sex. Five years into our relationship, I thought it would have tailed off by now, but it's become deeper and more intense than ever. And to go without him for ten days, another ten days, well, it's just unthinkable.

"Baby," says Mark, drawing me into his arms and combing through my hair with his fingers, a magic touch that melts my insides. Even when I'm trying to sulk and be angry with him, he knows just which buttons to press to calm and soothe me. "It's only for a week this time. We can talk every day. I'll miss you, too, but it won't be for long."

"When are you going?" I say, looking up into those handsome green eyes of his.

"Tomorrow," he says, looking guilty again. "But I'll make it up to you."

He kisses me again, and this time I don't resist, let his tongue slip between my lips and probe my mouth.