Clad only in brand new heels and lingerie, Beth climbed up onto the edge of the Egyptian cotton bed sheets. Slowly and deliberately, just like she'd been instructed, she began crawling for the pillows with exaggerated wiggles of her hips. Pausing partway across the king-size expanse, she looked back, biting her lip.

"Is this okay?"

Standing a short distance from the foot of the bed in a freshly pressed suit, her husband's jaw was slack. A crystal tumbler containing a finger of bourbon hung from one hand, the thumb of his other acting as a crude bookmark.

"Perfect. Just perfect."

"Sure?"

"So sexy," he growled, swirling then downing the drink and feeling the heat slither down his throat, fire spreading. Her form accentuated every nuance of femininity he'd missed. Reaching to place the glass on the coffee table before tucking the hand in his pocket, he rearranged his manhood that was starting to engorge with blood. Pointed it upward. Better.

Beth resumed crawling, animal-like, rhythmically shifting weight from one side to the other, her behind undulating provocatively. Before reaching the pillow she stopped again. "Isn't this a little extravagant? The meal? The hotel?" She looked down at herself. "Everything?"

"Stop worrying. Relax. That's why we're here. The rut, remember?"

Beth breathed out. "Right. The rut. Sorry."

A flash surfaced in Mark's belly. The bourbon, maybe. But more than that. Exasperation at her attitude. "You do want this to work, right?" It came out with more venom than he expected.

"Of course," she shot back. "It's… this isn't easy for me, y'know. Acting. Unplugging."

Mark let the ire subside, casting his gaze over the tantalising rump ahead of him. The same curves he'd fallen in love with half a decade ago, modesty barely intact beneath transparent lace. The last time she'd worn such an outfit was probably their honeymoon. Before the job. Before… the news.

He pursed his lips. "I understand, love. But let's try and forget the office today. For us, okay?"

Beth sighed and gave a gentle nod. "You're right. This is important. This is…" She stiffened as a muffled melody rang out. Work by Rihanna. Beth had thought it was funny. Mark had grown to hate it and rolled his eyes.

"You've gotta be kidding."

Beth dropped her gaze to the sheets. Began to move. "I have to take it."

"No!" She recoiled at the sharpness. "Leave it. Everything will still be there tomorrow. Trust me."

"But…"

"A ringing phone doesn't have to be answered. Diane'll get over it." His tone was firm.

She twitched, flicking her eyes between her husband and bag on the sofa across the suite. A long thirty seconds until it rang off. Twenty seconds after that the low vibration and solitary ping of an answer machine message. Mark could imagine the brusque recording: 'Beth, where the hell are you? I need the Mitchell account summary. Call me.'

Instead of tending to her boss' whims they'd both skipped work. Bottle of wine and a succulent steak lunch before taking the swanky hotel room, him the debonair playboy, her his escort.

Mark eyed her. "Relax, Beth. Come on. Breathe. Like it says in here." He indicated the book.

She did. A lungful through her nose, then back out of her mouth. Once more. In. Out. Mark followed her eye behind him to the dress crumpled on the floor. A chic Roland Mouret copy, without the astronomical price tag, that she'd said felt gorgeous against her porcelain skin. "What's next?"

Mark brought the book up, eyes scanning left to right, skittering back like a typewriter at the end of each line. "Turn over and lie back, head on the pillow, but maintain eye contact."

Beth did as directed, rolled onto her full behind and shuffled down a little before lying back, dark strands of hair splaying out around her head against the encased feathers. All credit, she didn't let her gaze waver.

Mark broke the stare, voice catching as he continued to read. "Good. Now, give me your best bedroom eyes. Invite me over without words."

Slithering her legs against the bed sheets, Beth gently opened them a fraction and widened her eyes, fluttering the lids, then giggled at her husband's reaction. "Was that okay?"

"Sweet cheeses, that was perfect." He hurriedly read on. Reached with one hand to the knot of his monochrome tie and tugged it down until the short end came free. Tossed it underarm to Beth. "Put this over your eyes."

"What?! I'm not sure about…" His stare cut her short, and she reached for its snake-like form beside her, unfurling the knot with precision beneath crimson nail polish. When straightened, she brought it to her face. He watched her take in the musky scent of his aftershave on the silk as it passed her nose, then cut out her sight. It wasn't a perfect fit, presumably fringes of the room's low-wattage bulbs still permeating her pupils. Good enough. She swallowed, wrapping the strip around her head and tying it at the back, then settled against the bed.

Mark's erection stirred. "How does that make you feel?"

She scratched at the sheets. "Vulnerable I guess. Apprehensive. What's the next step?"

Mark read: "At this stage you'll candlelit dinner by the ocean is a great opener." He frowned.

Beth said, "What?"

Mark looked at the page on the left. "At this stage you'll-" he scanned to the top line of the next page, then lower to the margin of the book. "Damn, there are some pages missing."

"What?"

"Gone."

"How many?"

Mark checked. "Twelve."

"Great! So what now? Fat lot of good a self-help book is with a chunk missing." She reached for the tie across her eyes.

"Wait!"

She stopped. "What?"

"Just… hold on."

Mark put the library book alongside his tumbler. "What if we…"

"What?"

"I dunno. Do that thing with your legs again."

Beth shuffled slightly. "This?" She slithered her legs against the sheets once more, rearranging her posture a little, the jewels on the buckle of the heels glinting.

"Yeah… that," breathed Mark, his erection straining against the black trousers. The way her thighs parted then closed was tantalising. "It's beautiful. You're beautiful."

Beth rolled her head away. "Stop it."

"No. It's true. I don’t say it enough."

"You do."

"No. I don't. I love the way you just… curve."

She reflexively brought a hand to her stomach. "You mean my squishy bit?"

"I mean every bit. Gorgeous thighs. Hips that roll up from there and sweep into the centre. The way everything swirls up to the tips of your glorious boobs and down to your neck. Everything. The whole package is irresistible."

Mark stepped to the bed, leant against it and reached out to place a hand on his wife's ankle. Slowly undid the strap of the shoe and let it drop to the bed. Felt the silk of the holdups. Traced the curvature of her foot around the instep and back, beneath her toes, watching them wiggle inside the lingerie. She smirked.

"That tickles."

He didn't stop. Slid his hand over the top of her foot to the ankle again. Circled the bone there with his thumb as Beth breathed out, just a sigh that ended in a little moan.

"Beth?"

"Yes?"

"In the absence of the book, shall we… improvise?"

She chewed her lip again. "And what would that entail?"

Mark climbed onto the bed, the mattress depressing around his knees. Slid both hands onto her shins, gliding them up the inside and down the outside, from knee to foot and back. Firm strokes up, gentler down. He left one shoe on.

"It'll involve a lot of touching, I expect." He circled his fingertips over the material stretched across each knee, then drifted along the upper surface of her thighs. She drew a breath as he neared the dark band of the holdups, then stopped and traced back down, circling her knees again. "Here, for example." He smiled, running his hands up again. "And here." She shuddered as his fingertips grazed the bare flesh between the hold ups and her panties. "Definitely here."

He walked a pair of fingers up over her hips, across her belly and moved her arm away. It flopped to the bed by her side. He continued his journey, tiptoeing over the tiny hump of her stomach then back down to caress her thigh, goosebumps rising, watching Beth's expression below the makeshift blindfold. Loved the way her mouth curled at the corners, lips parted, breath inhaled.

Moving his palm to her warm skin, he slid up again, leaning over her, gliding all the way to one breast and cupping it through the sheer fabric. His fingertips found an appreciative nipple and Beth gasped as he rolled and pinched it gently.

"Oh God," she moaned. "Do that again. It's been so…"

"Shhhh.

Mark repeated the touch, thrilled at the reaction. Slid his hand across into the valley and up to treat her other orb to the same. His wife writhed in pleasure. Moreso when he trailed his hand down to her abdomen and brushed the pink pastel bow centred on the waistband of her panties. He could see the curls of her pubic hair beneath, plunging to the delights between her thighs. Wanted desperately to be down there, but forced himself to take his time. To build her up. She deserved his patience.

With both hands, he gently massaged her midriff, running his hands up and down her sides, brushing breasts at the apex and panties on the return journey. Beth responded, hips drawing tiny figure eights on the bed as escalating groans escaped her parted lips. He swelled against his trouser zipper, urgency rising in tandem.

At the height of the tease, he slithered his hands to rest on the waistband of her panties and tucked his fingertips beneath the hem. Beth froze a moment, caught her lip between her teeth then relaxed and raised her hips a fraction. Mark drew the underwear over the holdups as she dropped back to the bed, removing them from her shoeless foot and leaving them circled around her other ankle.

Easing her thighs apart with little resistance, he took an involuntary breath when he saw the state of her arousal. He wanted to take everything slow, but found fighting the hunger impossible. The wetness drew him to her sanctuary, the smell of her just… deliciously intoxicating. Rolling his hands up her thighs, he slithered onto his stomach, parted her lips and brought his mouth to her matted bush.

The moment before he made contact, he felt her tense as his breath, then tongue met her sex. She groaned loudly. He'd missed that. A missionary frolic once every few months had been the extent of their carnal activity for some time, so to return to the excitement of their courtship made his belly flutter. Mark's tongue traced the oval of her nether lips, dipping inside then slithering up to circle her clit, sensitive and responsive. Her body jerked with each touch. He could almost feel the electricity coursing her skin, seemingly connecting everything from toes to scalp at once.

Chin slickening with her juices, Mark lapped at her sexy slit. He loved the taste of his wife when aroused. Especially the way the bead of sticky white formed at her entrance, gradually becoming a crooked rivulet that trickled over her bum. The consistency was smooth against his tongue as he chased it back to the source. Creamy. Mark paused to savour it like he had the bourbon, then continued licking, her elevated desire obvious by the gasps bouncing off the ceiling of the hotel room.

Tongue fluttering, he drove onward and didn't stop until her hands flew to grip the back of his head, fingernails curling into the short fuzz of brown hair she found, holding him in position as her body arched against his face. She held him still, mouth clamped against her spasming centre, otherwise total silence in the room until she gasped and cried out over and over, flopping back to the bed and releasing him.

Mark sat up and watched her writhing on the sheets, awestruck. He'd forgotten how beautiful she looked in the throes of orgasm, hair a mess, mouth open. He rested his hand on her thigh and watched her smile grow, as whatever went through her head took hold.

Upon regaining the power of speech, Beth simply breathed, "Wow." She reached for his hand and clutched it, just holding him. He imagined her other senses heightened, filling in for the lack of eyesight. Taking in the heady smell of her sex in the room. The counterpoint of her laboured, and his even breathing. The softness of his hand as she lifted it and they pressed palms, fingers entwining. Mark brought the other into play and caressed her belly, making her shudder.

Beth slithered her free hand past his, patting the air, searching. She found the bulge and honed in, drew the zipper down, unleashing him. As he sprang free, she caught the tip, wrapping his length with her fingers. Feeling his hardness.

Her mouth turned up at the corners again. "Is this all for me?"

"Yes."

"It's so hard." She ran her hand over it to emphasise the point. "Where would it go?"

Mark grinned. "I can think of one place in particular."

"Mark Appleby," she scolded. "Wherever do you get such wicked thoughts?"

She angled his erection down and he didn't need any further invitation. Released her hand and shuffled on his knees towards her. Pulled her hips to his. Let her guide his flared head to her sopping entrance, pulling her hand away when the bulb entered.

Mark eased over her body into a press-up position, stopping en route to lap each nipple through her bra. Working his lips higher, he brought his mouth to hers, kissing tenderly as he took her millimetre by millimetre. She stole the air from inside his mouth as her tight confines gradually enveloped his rigid staff. The kiss intensified. She moaned around his tongue when he was fully inside her and began to draw in and out of her sticky depths.

He took her slowly. Partly because he wanted Beth to savour the contact, partly because he was trying to delay his release. The slow pace helped and he felt the urge to come subside a little. She looked so beautiful and vulnerable with the blindfold on, the hidden fire in her eyes illustrated by the shape of her mouth, and the motion of her body against his.

As they rhythmically ground together it became clear she wanted more. He felt it. The urgency building.

"Let's roll over."

Mark pushed himself onto his back, taking Beth with him, their hips barely losing contact as she straddled his waist and sat upright, sinking deep. He reached for her hands, clasped them palm-to-palm and let her draw shapes in his lap, juices drizzling around his open fly.

She tilted her head to her chest. "We should do this more often."

"What, get a book from the library?"

She giggled and began bouncing up and down on his thick shaft, laughter turning to groans that became louder as his length massaged internal nerve endings. Her head tipped back and she released his hands, grabbing her breasts instead, squeezing them rhythmically in time with her panting.

Rihanna began to play again from her bag. She paused, waited a long moment then continued where she left off, bouncing, squeezing and drowning out the ringtone with her sighs. Mark couldn't hold out any longer.

"I'm gonna come."

"Yesss. Inside me. Please, Mark." She chewed her lip. "Even though it won't…"

"Shhhhh. Not now." He grabbed her hips, held tight and felt everything inside him unravel at once, pumping ropes of hot spunk into her soaked channel as he hissed through gritted teeth how beautiful she was. Beth took everything. Crushed her hips to his, mouth in a perfect 'o'.

From beneath the blindfold, a tear trickled, followed by a second across the other cheek. Mark brought his hands to cradle her face and wiped them away with his thumbs as he felt the pulses inside her engulfing his powerful orgasm. "Hey, it'll be alright."

Remaining joined at the hips, Mark sat up and hugged her. Beth wrapped her arms around him, held tight. Sniffled in his ear, "I just want to give you what you've always wanted."

He stroked her long, raven hair against her back. "What matters is you and me. Us. It'll happen when nature thinks we're ready."

She stifled a sob. "But the doctors said-"

He cut her off. "Doctors don’t know everything, love. Stress plays an important part in conception."

Beth unhugged him and pulled away a little. "How do you know that?"

Reaching up to untie the blindfold, Mark watched her blink in the light, tear ducts glimmering, mascara smudged. "Read it in a book."

She gave a weak smile. "Seriously?" He nodded and she wiped at her eyes, smearing more makeup. "Bookworm," she teased.

Mark regarded his wife. Trailed his fingertips down her hourglass. "Maybe more times like this will help? Just us. Unwinding. No… distractions."

"We can't afford it."

"Well, okay, not quite like this."

Beth considered it. Looked down at him. "You're not mad at me?"

"Why would I be mad at you?"

"Just, y'know, the job and all. Diane. The fact we had to borrow a manual to learn how to relax."

Mark smiled, rolled her onto her back again and kissed full lips that somehow tasted of both rain and sunshine. "I think it's done its job." He trailed his lips down her jaw, tracing her neckline and shoulders, drawing level with her breasts. "Besides," he breathed, eyeing hard nipples through the sheer material, "who needs a manual when I have you as inspiration?"