She lifted the skirt of her long dress up and traced a line along the length of her nicely rounded thigh. In her mind an imaginary lover approached the sacrosanct area of her waiting pussy, moistened slightly by the thoughts of other men touching her there. Her own fingers touched the thin elastic leg-band of her panties and slipped secretly inside… just as Giuliano had done, time and time again.

"Oh, God!" she thought. "What on earth am I doing?" But already the well cared for hand with the carefully buffed fingernails painted a pearly soft white, approached the silken-haired triangle that nested Venus-like down between her slightly spread thighs. One finger flicked out further still and teased at the thin, curl-lined lips that guarded the smooth wet mouth of Carrie's cunt.

"Am I interrupting something?"

Carrie jumped up to a sitting position on the bed, rapidly removing her fingers from beneath her robe.

"John!" she cried momentarily angry and blushing, "Don't you ever knock?"

"Knock?" John replied, throwing his leather jacket over one of the new low hassocks on the thick rug. "Why should I knock? This is still my bedroom too, isn't it? Or has something changed just because you've redone the place?"

Carrie looked at her husband with exasperation. What was there to do with him? He was incorrigible. A very, very handsome man, she thought watching him now as he began to get undressed for bed. But totally unmanageable… totally… how could she put it, unchic. Well, she had liked it well enough when she married him those many years ago, she realized, falling back on the bed but continuing to observe her husband… but now… well, she just needed something more!