Her naked body hissed between the sheets as she slid
into bed. It was a luxurious feeling, like hotel sheets
always are, cool, crisp and fresh, nearly crackling. She
felt like purring as she snuggled down, allowing the
soft comfort to ease the tension of the day’s drive from
Fresh from the shower, glowing with a pampered warmth,
she rolled to the center of the king-size bed and
languidly stretched. A satisfied smile danced across her
full lips as she once more came alive. Carefully, she
arranged the shoulder length strands of light brunette
hair in a fluffy cascade on the pillow, framing the
classical oval beauty of her face in a silken cloud of
As a last touch, she raised the sheet and let it slowly
drift down, moulding its whiteness to the supple
contours of her nakedness: a veil that completely hid
the smooth pinkness of her body, but a veil that went
beyond the point of mere suggestion and presented an
alluring portrait of willing innocence.
Prepared, her eyes swept over the room, finally focusing
on the open door to a small bathroom. An impish glint
played over the misty green of her eyes and a pleased
smile once more crept back to her lips. She waited –
waited for the man still busying himself in the shower.
Michael Hightower; she let the name roll over in her
mind, quivering as shivery little thrills tingled their
way through her. He was a Michael, not a Mike. Mike was
a name for a boy. Michael Hightower was most definitely
Mrs. Michael Hightower; she savored the feel of it,
tingling as new excitement washed over her. Diana
Little, meet Diana Hightower, she continued to mentally
play with her new name.
She felt like a newlywed. Despite the fact that she and
Michael had lived together for the past semester at
college, she felt like a newlywed. She trembled anew,
her body alive with the excited warmth of anticipation.
She was acting like some foolish school girl and loved
every moment of it!
The blasting water of the shower abruptly ceased and the
curt sound of metal rings sliding along the shower rod
entered the room, sending a vivid flush of eager
gooseflesh running up her spine. She listened as he
pulled a towel free and briskly rubbed himself dry.
She heard two steps, then he was there, standing in the
doorway, naked except for a small white towel wrapped
hastily around his waist.
“Hello, wife,” he grinned, his eyes lit with self-
Wife, lover, mistress or whore, any way you’ll take me,
she thought as he brushed the rumpled mop of thick,
black hair away from his face and crossed the room. The
towel and his brisk stride gave him the air of a
triumphant conqueror come to claim his reward. Her eyes
trained on the slit that opened in the terry cloth,
exposing a suntanned thigh as he stepped. She tried to
glimpse what lay beneath, although she already knew.
“Tired?” he smiled down at her from the side of the bed.
“Not that tired!” she returned the smile. “After all,
this is our wedding night!”
His wide grin was back, “Have I ever told you how
beautiful you are?”
“Yes,” her eyelids coyly fluttered down in mock modesty,
then opened wide, revealing two sparkling eyes of
emerald green. “But keep on doing it. I love it!”
She wasn’t a beautiful woman, she knew that, but she was
attractive. The obvious attributes of her body were
nothing out of the ordinary when taken individually, but
together, that was another story. That she knew how to
highlight what she had only added to the enticing
picture she presented to Michael’s eyes.