Point of View

She was sitting on the edge of the bed, head tilted to the side, brushing out her long hair just as she did every morning. He always enjoyed watching her for a fleeting moment just before he arose for the day, but on this morning he had no work scheduled, so he took his time and observed her. As he watched the brush flow gently through her thick hair, he remembered the delicate scent of it the previous night when she leaned over to kiss him as they had made love. He wondered how many other men noticed her shining hair. Surely some must, and they secretly wished they could smell it too, just as he had.

She applied her lipstick, a subtle rose color, and as she did his pulse quickened as he remembered the burning of her velvet lips on his from their passionate love making. He wondered how many other men wanted those perfect lips for themselves.

She slipped on her dress, and as she adjusted it, she arched her spine and looked at back over her shoulder at her mirrored reflection. The dress was perfect, classy but with a hint of sensuality, and as she arched, her lovely figure strained against the confines of the silky material. He thought she was a vision of loveliness, and he wanted nothing more than to remove that dress from her sweet body and pull her lustfully back into bed. He could feel a smile coming to his face as she turned toward him.

“Oh Honey, you’re awake,” she whispered. “I’m having such a bad day already, nothing looks right.”