"Harry! Get away from that window," Marsha scolded again. "You've got all you can handle at home right now. As soon as you deliver him to me then you can have all of that you can get, but not until then. I'm a very jealous wife, remember."

"OK, OK, if you want to be a kill-joy and take away the few pleasures a man my age has left in this life, then be a bitch. I'll just have to settle for you this afternoon."

"Harry," Marsha smiled at him demurely. "Let's take these drinks to the bedroom, shall we?"

"Why, you little whore!" Harry smiled, following behind her down the hallway. "You're about the most selfish thing alive. You always come first. You drug me away from that window for your own selfish designs, I might have known."

"I don't see you lagging far behind, my love." Marsha cooed, turning just inside the door and peeling her robe from her body seductively and dropping it to her feet. "Of course, if you'd rather not…"

"Let's not be too hasty now," Harry replied quickly, his face flushing slightly as his eyes locked on his wife's full well-tanned body. "I think we can work something out between us without too much fuss and bother."

Marsha smiled at him coyly and did a small pirouette in the center of the room before she walked softly to the huge double king sized bed and lay down full in the center of it, spreading her limbs in a wide crucifixion position. She smiled lazily up at him without a word, just a seductive smile playing across her lips. Harry's breath sucked in slightly from the sudden excitement of the pose she had taken.

Damn, he thought, There's just no one else like her. His eyes, for the millionth time in their eight years of marriage, played over full well-rounded curves and sent tiny ripples of desire running swiftly over the sensitive nerve-ends of his skin.