copyright Annette Holland 1996

As she came out of the shower she noticed that the children weren't bickering and that her husband was typing away. "Workaholic," she muttered as she walked into the bedroom. She looked at herself in the mirror. She managed to drop the towel to get a good look at herself. The apartment wasn't warm enough, her nipples hardened, but it didn't make her breasts any perkier. One still drooped disconsolently. She eyed herself up and down, frizzy hair, tired eyes, blotchy skin, wide forehead, lips too full, shoulders drooping. She straightened up and watched the little pouch that was her stomach become smooth again. Her arms still looked good, slight muscle definition of the biceps that always looked just right. There's that droopy breast again. Flat stomach, can she still see her ribs? Only when she raises her arms. Wide hips, waist barely defined, and legs that took a while to reach the floor. They were something to be proud of.

She turned around and looked over her shoulder. Her butt was losing definition, looked a little droopy. Calves are, too. She thought about exercising to get everything together. Just didn't seem worth it, though.

She begins to get dressed. It's date night and she wants to look good. Padded and formed bra, white underwear that's a half size too small, perfect for shaping, and.... she decides on one of her sheath dresses. It's designed to find your curves and hug them. Clothes make such a difference, she sighs.

Simple dress, simple hairstyle. She pulled her hair away from her face the way he likes it. Her forehead. She pulls a few strands forward to act as a shield. A little lipstick and she doesn't look as sickly. Amazing what a little lipstick can do, she thinks.

"I'm ready whenever you are."

He always looks good, dashing would be a better word. He fixes her bra strap.

"Do you really need that?" he asks.

"Not really, but..."

"Go take it off."

She goes back into the bedroom and wiggles out of her bra. How is he able to make her feel comfortable at all times? Going out in public without a bra.... Her nipples laugh at her, trying to poke through the fabric.

"We'll be back in an hour or so, you guys be good," they tell the children.

The walk across the street to the restaurant is invigorating. They enjoy a nice, peaceful dinner, enjoying themselves, instead of imploring the children to behave. Very relaxing.

Home again, they decide to call it an early night.

He undresses quickly and begins his nightly stretches. She procrastinates. For once she's feeling a little sexy and would like for it to last. She knows he likes her legs. She stands in front of him, over his hanging head, deciding what course of action she should take. She begins to undress, pantyhose first.

He runs his hands up and down her legs. Delicious. He sits up , facing the mirror on the closet door and bids her to come stand in front of him. She pouts, but complies. He makes her face the mirror. She does so, but only reluctantly. He begins talking and pointing. She tunes in. His tone isn't derogatory, but admiring.

"See this?" he asks. He's showing her her overall shape. She sees the look of desire in his eyes. The dress defines her waist and hips, the balance of her body. He makes her turn to the side. She feels his arousal against her thigh as he outlines the curve of her butt, the shape of her legs.... Again her turns her and asks her to take off the dress. Now she faces his arousal, but he makes her turn her head and examine her body even more. He shows her curves and lines she never saw before. Before her eyes she's transformed into an elegant sculpture of a Greek goddess. The simple and well defined lines of chin and jaw, shoulder, neck, upraised arm; all combined to form a thing of beauty. Something to be desired instead of despised.

Last Modified: 10:39pm , January 25, 1997