When I wake up again, it's eight thirty and I'm dangerously late for work. I throw back the bedclothes, jump in the shower, dress, and hop in my car, just about making it to my desk in time for my nine a.m. meeting. But I might as well have stayed home. All day I think about Mark, replaying what happened last night, wondering how I'll get through the next week till we can do it again.

When I get home to the empty apartment, I take off my work clothes and slip on one of Mark's T-shirts that still smells of him. At the foot of the bed, I notice what looks like a black shoe box tied with a gold chiffon ribbon. I must have been in too much of a hurry to see it this morning. Mark often buys me gifts on his travels, but he's never left one behind before. Intrigued, I pluck the little gold card that's tucked into the bow. His elegant handwriting, a stark reminder of his physical presence, makes me ache for him.

"I've had this for a while now, darling," it reads. "I've just been waiting for the right time to give it to you. It should keep you from getting too lonely while I'm away."

In the box, wrapped up in gold tissue paper, is a sleek gold mobile phone. It's switched on but no one has called yet. But there's more to my gift than a new phone. I giggle and squeal with delight to find wrapped in even more layers of crinkly paper a life-size, gold-plated model of Mark's erect penis. I run my hands over it, marveling at the lifelike details. It's definitely him; I'd know it anywhere. That's the vein that runs in a little squiggle from the tip down the right side to his balls. Even that tiny triangle of skin under the head where he loves me to put my tongue is there. I press the tip to my lips, touch my teeth to it: it's cold and metallic and it makes me feel hot and horny. Automatically, I lift the hem of Mark's T-shirt and use the tip to prod my clitoris, shivering with delight as it becomes engorged and sensitive.