The sheet had slid down to her girlish waist and her round, tapered thighs. She kicked the sheet aside with her long, slim legs and stood up, flouncing her hair and yawning. She was naked, as she always slept; naked and desirable. Her face went well with her body, a sort of pouty, sensual, flirtatious look about it with its small nose and full ripe mouth and large hazel eyes. There was nothing aloof about her; it was pure animal, pure female.

Lonnie giggled to herself as she crossed to the window and shut it. A little shiver of delight passed through her stomach as she recalled the number of men who stared at her, their eyes and the bulge in their loins hard and wanting. And of their propositions even though most of them knew that she was married – not that she had ever been unfaithful. Of course, a little coy flirting never hurt anybody, and it made her feel so good. She'd never let the game get out of hand, and she didn't intend to, but it was nice to know that a woman of her years could still attract, still arouse men on a basic, primitive level.

Not that her husband seemed to take all that notice. Damn, damn – how long had it been this time since she'd had Roger inside her? She leaned on the window sill and stated out at the wind-whipped yard and answered herself: too long. If it hadn't been for the bright visits and constant chatter of her best friend, Cylvia Oliss – who also happened to be the wife of Skopos' vice-president in charge of marketing – well, if it hadn't been for Cylvia to help take her mind off things, Laurie didn't know what she would have done, how she could have managed this long…

When Lonnie had called herself a whore, it had been with a slight tingle, a secret thrill the way forbidden thoughts can do. She enjoyed the sex which she gave her husband, wanted and needed it, and was at the moment naked and desirable – and desiring.