His eyes roamed over the naked contours stretched out in anticipation before him. They stopped for a moment on the high-set round breasts that were set closely together, leaving room for the narrowest of valleys running between their magnificent firmness. He never failed to marvel at how they kept their shape at all times, in spite of their size. This possibly was the reason for her lead position in the chorus line at Vegas where he had first seen her and decided that he had to have her. Well, he had, and it had lasted a long time. He had shed his second wife with a quickie Nevada divorce and they were married a few months later. Nothing had changed since then and he still marveled at her each and every time he saw her in the nude. She was holding up pretty well for a thirty-one-year-old and if he weren't such a lecherous bastard, he mused silently to himself, he would never have had to step out of the house. She was enough for any one man. His eyes flicked lower to the enticingly rounded, ivory-sheened lips that led to the delicious sweep of long, gradually rounded thighs. Between her slightly spread legs he could see clearly through the soft pubic hair covering her loins the fleshy pinkness of her vaginal slit glistening wetly in the dim light seeping through the curtains.

"Well, lover, are you going to stand there all day? Hand me my drink and get naked, Marsha teased at him, fully aware of the effect the licentious position of her body was having on him. She squirmed her buttocks down into the mattress, enjoying the power she was exerting over him by the lewd exhibition of her body and watching with secret satisfaction the changing expressions flickering across his lips.

"You little prick-tease," Harry half growled, "You've gotten yourself a pile of trouble now and you just might not get out of it until tomorrow morning, if then."

He handed her the double gin and set his own on the table by the bed, pulling at the same time at his clothes.