William Davis
The Polaroid club book I

CHAPTER ONE

The third anniversary party of the Jamisons was going well. Cindy Jamison, smiling broadly and her ice-blue eyes sparkling, walked out of the kitchen as the last of the dinner dishes were taken from the table by her husband, Howard, and their two party guests, Ralph and Norma Taylor. Cindy was happy; happy because the dinner had gone perfectly, her special potato flambe having earned well deserved praise, and because as she looked at her tall, handsome husband, she realized just how much in love with him she was.

She kissed him fondly on the cheek as he passed her with the gravy boat. "I love you, Howie," she murmured.

Howard grinned, and kissed her back. He looked down at Cindy, once more feeling the stirrings of love and physical attraction which had first excited him, and had never once stopped making him want her over the past three years. Her full, ripe figure nearly burst the tight bodice of her white dress, and the plunging neckline disclosed more than just a casual view of her sun-bronzed breasts, breasts which he knew had been first caressed by him – Cindy having been not only a virgin but a shy, hesitant maiden before their marriage.

She turned and went into the living room, and for a long moment Howard watched the smooth enticing undulations of her buttocks, the twin globes a rhythmic reminder of the warm wet passion she stored between her well-curved thighs. There was just enough dinner wine in him to let his thoughts roam to what was going to happen later, after the Taylors left, and he and Cindy were alone, and in the privacy of their bedroom…

His revery was interrupted by the entrance of Ralph Taylor. He walked out of the kitchen wiping his wide, muscular hands on a dish towel, his face a picture of pleasantness. "Howie, my boy, let's open the champagne now!"

"Champagne?" Howard asked, baffled.

"You don't think that I could let you folks celebrate without a little of the bubble-juice, do you?" He laughed jovially. "Heh, heh, Norma brought two magnums with her, along with your present."

Cindy, lighting a cigarette as she sat on the couch, said, "Ah now, Ralph, you didn't have to buy us a thing."

"Nonsense! No employee of mine is going to be let off his anniversary without something to liven things up. Especially a star salesman like Howie, here. I know how it is with old married couples, Cindy; after all, I'm going on ten years in the ball-and-chain, and so I've got a little deal for you both which will perk up everything, believe you me!"

Cindy wasn't too sure what Ralph meant, talking about a gift to "perk up" their anything but dead marriage, but she smiled anyway. After all, Ralph was the manager of Auto Circus, Morriston's biggest and most prosperous used car lot, and Howard worked under him. Ralph was a big, impressive looking man, liking to dress well and flashy; right now he wore a double breasted blazer cut Edwardian, gray striped pants, and polished loafers. As usual there were three cigars poking out of the handkerchief pocket, and a pearl and diamond tie-tac in his wide, striped tie. Cindy liked him, not only because he was her husband's boss, but because Ralph was so jovial and fun-loving, ever smiling and with a joke to tell – even if some of them embarrassed her because they were a bit too riske.

Ralph, she knew, often said things in a round-about manner, a carry-over from his work when he would talk about a car in almost teasing buildup to interest a prospective customer. So she wasn't concerned that his comment wasn't clear to her and knew that by the end of the evening all would be explained.

"Yes, Cindy," Ralph said expansively, "I can just picture you now with the gift. I can't wait to see how things developed!" He started laughing in his hearty, gravelly laugh, and was joined in by his wife, who was still in the kitchen but who had evidently overheard his conversation.

"Oh, Ralph," Norma said loudly, "you card!"

She and Howard then came out of the kitchen, her arm linked in his in a gesture of friendship. "Are you sure you want to expose them to this?" she asked Ralph, again the emphasis falling so that the Jamisons knew a double meaning was hidden in her words. "Perhaps we haven't timed it right!"

The Taylors erupted in more laughter, the Jamisons looking at them with bewilderment. They were both jokers, Howard reflected, Norma just as quick with the puns as her husband. He grinned anyway, caught up with the humor of the situation, and gripped Norma's arm tighter. She was a good-looking woman, thinner than Cindy but no less desirable, with her multicolored hostess gown falling over pert, upthrust breasts and thin, tightly molded buttocks and thighs. Her raven black hair, cut in a boyish bob, cameoed her round, innocent face, but Howard knew from the way she reacted to some of Ralph's spicy stories, she was well experienced in the ways of love…

"Ralph, honey," Norma continued, releasing her arm and walking across to where her husband was lighting a cigar, "Where's my bag?"

"By the front door, where you left it," came the reply. He released a stream of smoke. "Want me to get it?"

"No, I will." She crossed to the front door of the Jamison home and opened it. Reaching around the corner she retrieved a large straw shopping bag from the porch. "We hid this on the way in," she explained, shutting the door again. "We wanted it to be a surprise."

"It is that," agreed Howard, still mystified.

They all grouped around Norma and her bag as she opened it. Out came the two magnums of champagne and a gayly wrapped present.

"Ooohh," cooed Cindy, "what's in the present?"

"You'll find out," Ralph promised, "but only after some champagne." He chortled, obviously enjoying his role as gift-giver. Cindy picked up the rectangular package and shook it; there was only a faint rattling from inside it. The box was quite large, decorated by "Happy Anniversary" paper and a big red ribbon, and a tingling of expectation ran through her. She loved to receive presents, and Howard often brought her home small, inexpensive, meaningless gifts, just so she'd have something to open. She loved him for this; this, and for many other reasons.

Howard went to the credenza in the dining room and got four cocktail glasses, then went back to the kitchen for a bucket of ice. They sat around for a little while after that while one bottle of champagne cooled, Cindy lovingly staring at the large gift, trying to guess what was in it as the Taylors made jokes about its contents. Most of the bottle was consumed, adding a certain glow of merriment to the festivities, when at last the time came for the box to be opened.

Cindy, of course, was chosen as the opener. Slowly, carefully, she slid the bow off and then slit the paper… underneath was a plain cardboard carton advertising dog food. She looked up questioningly.

"No, we just had to use the box for all the parts," Ralph said. "C'mon, open the thing."

Trembling with anticipation, Cindy obeyed, and inside the carton were other boxes, only these were clearly marked.

"Howie!" Cindy exclaimed, "look at this!"

Howard was pleasantly shocked. The main gift was a brand-new color Polaroid camera, an expensive model with adjustable lens and shutter speed. Then there was a strobe flash attachment, the kind which was rechargeable, and then… well, he wasn't quite sure what the third item was.

"A timer," explained Ralph, "it allows you to be in your own pictures." He held it up and showed how it operated. "See, you set this thing for up to fifteen seconds, then get in range and the camera takes your picture. Then one minute later, you have your photo, automatically."

"My God, Ralph, you shouldn't have," Howard gulped. "This is so expensive…"

"Ha ha, what's money if not to spend, I always say!"

"Well, gee, thanks Ralph… thanks a lot!"

"Don't mention it, my boy! Don't mention it!" Ralph picked up the Polaroid and opened it up. "I've got one just like it, Howie. Had nothing but fun with it. Hand me a roll of film there, and I'll show you how it works."

The balance of the evening was spent in snapping pictures of each other and Ralph showing his star salesman the intricacies of the adjustments and flash. The rest of the champagne was consumed, and then everybody switched to bourbon or scotch, and at one point Cindy, feeling the double effects of the alcohol and the overwhelming generosity of her husband's employer, had her picture taken while bussing Ralph lightly on the cheek. One minute later everybody took turns looking at sweet lips touching the now slightly alcoholic reddened cheeks of Ralph, while he was grinning from ear to ear into the eye of the lens.

Howard saw it, and strangely, perversely, an odd feeling crept into his body. He studied the shot, seeing for the first time his wife kissing another man. He was not jealous, not in the least. It was all done in innocence and in the spirit of the occasion, but still, it was a novel experience, as she had never allowed herself even this slight intimacy with anyone before. It somehow strangely excited him… and then he passed the photo to Norma and the tingling went away.

Later, as Norma and Cindy were talking of womanly things in the living room, he and Ralph ended up in the kitchen together, mixing drinks. He was still overcome by the magnitude of the gift and said so. "Wait until your anniversary, Ralph. I'll put on the party and…"

"Cut it out, Howie, my boy. Glad to do it. Just seeing you and that wonderful wife of yours having fun is enough for me." He put his arm around Howard's shoulder. "I really like you, my boy. You've done a fine job at Auto Circus, a fine job. You deserve a nice present, you really do."

Howard, embarrassed, murmured his thanks for the compliment. He could feel his face flush.

"Now tell you what I'm going to do for you, Howie," his boss said, a peculiar leer transforming his face to an almost satyr-like countenance, "I'm going to give you a little hint."

"Yes?" Howard thought it might be about the job. Some inside information which would help his career. He listened eagerly. "What is it, Ralph?"

"Use the camera… in the bedroom!" Ralph said, and then started to laugh. "Get some real nice candid shots of the ol' wifey!"

"What?" Howard backed away, both shocked and embarrassed by his boss's suggestion. His off-color jokes were one thing, but never had he spoken so bluntly! It must be the liquor in him, all that champagne and bourbon… "I don't know what you mean, Ralph," he said. The idea of Ralph's was unthinkable! "Perhaps we'd better go in the living room and…"

"You mean to tell me you didn't think of the possibilities?" came the reply, interrupting Howard. "C'mon, Howie, boy," his boss chided, "that's the beauty of the camera. You don't have to take the film in to be developed. Whatever you shoot a picture of is all your own affair." He nudged Howard with his elbow, winking as he did so. "See what I mean now?"

Howard knew his face was flame red. Sure, he realized what Ralph had in mind; he wasn't naive! But to think of lowering his wife to such things, like… like she was some nudie model in a man's magazine! "Please, Ralph," he said, squirming uncomfortably, "the girls are waiting."

"All right," Ralph said, suddenly sobering. He picked up his glass and started for the living room, a small hint of indignation in his voice. "But I'm telling you, there's nothing to be ashamed of, using the Polaroid for… special shots of each other. Everybody who has one has the same ideas. Really turns the gals on too!"

Howard followed Ralph into the other room, strangely silent. He loved, revered and yes, respected his wife. The lewd implications of Ralph's suggestions burned his brain, and he was as ashamed for his wife's sake as he was for himself. He liked sex, loved making it with his wife… but gutter-talk and locker room snickerings about their private love life were another matter…

Yet his emotions were ambivalent. The high-principled resolve not to court his wife's indignation and hurt by even mentioning the incident just now to her wouldn't blend with a remembrance of the picture of her kissing his boss. The photograph grew from a hazy thought to a crystal-clear portrait of her soft, tapered body bending to passionate responsiveness. That strange tingling in his groin began again at the thought, and a slight jerk of his penis told him that he was getting excited.

Stop it, he told himself… this is absolutely crazy, thinking like this… but still Ralph's seed-like suggestion whirled in Howard's brain, gathering momentum, and when he looked at his wife sitting on the couch, he couldn't help mentally stripping her of her clothes and seeing her as if in a photo…

By the time the Taylors paid their respects and said goodbye, Howard was filled with lustful dreams of Cindy nude and voluptuous on the bed, standing on the bedroom rug, stretched out on the couch. Quickly he downed another scotch to try and steady his nerves, and mentally berating himself for such lascivious preoccupations.

Besides, he knew damned well that if he ever dared to suggest such activities, Cindy would be righteously indignant. Surely not that! Not on this night of their anniversary! Still the images came back to haunt him. He groaned, feeling his cock suddenly begin to ache with anticipatory excitement.

"That was nice, wasn't it, sweetheart?" Cindy said, cuddling up to him. "And the camera. How can we ever repay them?" Her words were slightly slurred, a condition which always happened to her after the third drink. It didn't mean she was drunk, Howard knew, but that she was high and feeling good.

"Sure, Cindy," he said, trembling. There was a pulsing hardness in his loins now, and without really knowing that he was saying it, he said to her, "Say, honey, are you tired yet?"

"No… not really."

"Well, let's fool around with the camera some more." He grinned at her, realizing that the liquor had gotten to him, too. "You know, just a couple of shots now that they're gone."

"All right," she said brightly. She went to the couch and sat down, crossing her legs and placing her hands on her knees after smoothing her skirt. "Maybe one we can send my folks."

"Right!" Howard quickly snapped a few innocent ones, but his mind was on the ones he wanted to take…

"How about moving the skirt up a bit now?" he suggested casually.

"My… my skirt?" His wife looked uncertain. "I… I don't know, Howie. Do you think it would look right?"

Howard waved his hand as if to shrug off the worry. "Ah, who's to see? The picture would stay right here, honey. Just you and me." He smiled reassuringly. "Go on, raise the skirt."

"All… right, if you want," his pretty young wife replied, and bunched the material in the folds of her waist. She would never have consented to do this, she realized, if it hadn't been for the liquor she'd consumed. It seemed to loosen her strict moral code… perhaps dangerously? No, there wasn't anything to worry about. If her husband wanted a picture of her like this, then why not? It was no different than one in her bathing suit, was it? "But promise me," she added, "promise you won't take it out of the house."

"Never," he replied. He held his breath and snapped the shutter. Then one minute later he sat down with her and showed her the portrait, and he found himself breathing harshly as he admired the smooth, firm swell of her naked thighs as she sat almost nude from the pelvis down… the aching built steadily in his pants… he quickly got up, trying to shield the now quite apparent bulge. "Let's take some more like that! It was fun!"

"Howie…" came the plea, but he ignored it.

"Put your legs up on the couch. That's it. Now lean back and arch your back so that your breasts are out…" He feverishly sighted the camera. "There! That's it! Yes!" Click!

Howard impatiently waited for the film to develop, and then he gazed with ever-increasing excitement at the photo. "Hot damn!" he said chokingly under his breath, "Ralph was right!"

"Let me see, Howie," Cindy asked, and he handed her the color shot. She gasped, never before seeing herself so provocatively posed, so… sexy! Redness creeped up from her breasts and neck and enflamed her cheeks. "Howie!" she gasped, but her eyes were still glued to her picture. She was stretched out on the cushions just as before, her firm, ripe, quivering breasts straining against the binders of bra and dress… her lips glistening wetly where she had moistened them with her pink tongue seconds earlier… and her sun-tanned legs and thighs were exposed in all their dark silkiness…

"Another!" Howard commanded hoarsely. "This time lie down and lean forward." He fingered the camera in anticipation. "I want to see your breasts," he blurted in his excitement.

"Howie! What a thing to say!" Yet in spite of her indignation, she did as he bid. For some unexplainable reason, this moral and most proper young woman – a sensual female only in the darkened confines of her marital bedroom and never with anybody save her husband was caught up in the mounting fever. A small, irrational tingling started growing in her loins and inner thighs, and she could tell her vagina down between her thighs was beginning to moisten with the lubrications of building sensuality.

No! she thought, this is a bad thing to be doing…! But she looked up at the lusting face of her husband, dropped her eyes to the pulsing bulge clearly evident in his pants, and her own desires grew still more. He's liking this… she concluded. I'm not… I'm highly ashamed at my display, but it's getting Howie excited, and I guess that's what's making me feel so passionate… certainly it can't be these erotic pictures of myself…

Stifling a soft moan of inner protest, Cindy lay down on the couch, leaning forward so that the full expanse of her rounded breasts were in view. Again, strangely, she became aware that she too was becoming excited, that her turgid nipples were rising into tantalizing little buds, pressing against the very edge of her bra's cups. Stop! This just isn't right! she moaned to herself. Hurry, Howie, hurry up with the picture!

"Wait a minute, honey," her aroused husband said. "Let's make it a little better." He put down the camera on the coffee table and bent over his trembling wife. He fingered her skirt, the electric contact as he brushed against her skin making her gasp. "Let's see a little of your panties…"

He had gone too far! Cindy, her eyes clearly showing the agonizing choice she had to make now, her sense of decency by saying "no" to her own husband, or her desire to please him by saying "yes". She pressed her thighs together tightly, stopping him.

"Don't be such a prude!" he suddenly snapped. The alcohol, the growing lust-fever of the snapshots, all had now combined to make him lose control in bitter words.

Defiantly, now angered at her husband, Cindy cried, "What a thing to say, Howie! I'm not a prude!" And to prove she wasn't, she spread her legs, letting him take her skirt and roll it to her waist. There was a sharp intake of breath as Howard gazed down with feasting eyes on the tender, barely covered pubic triangle of his young wife. "This… this is going to be the last one, though," she said miserably. "No… no more of these awful pictures."

"Sure, sure, honey," Howard agreed, hardly cognizant of what she had said. "We'll go to bed after this one." He angled the camera so that most of the picture would be of her delicious breasts and panties, making sure that the soft warm curls of pubic hair which managed to peek out from under the legbands of her panties were clearly visible. "To bed," he repeated hoarsely and snapped the picture.

"Wow!" he gulped when a moment later he held up the shot. Everything was in perfect focus, a fine photo. Once more his wife was before him, the flimsy white bikini panties she wore a teasing cover to her sweet, tempting vaginal slit… and the rounded spheres of her breasts were all but fully exposed, ready to break loose from the wispy bra which covered her nipples. "Oh, wow!" he cried, and his mouth watered.

Cindy was sitting up now, smoothing her skirt down over her legs. She was nearly in tears. She got to her feet and saw that her husband was busily thumbing through the naughty collection he had just taken, and unsteadily she walked to the bedroom.

She couldn't look at herself as she undressed, and slipped on her white nightgown with the same averted eyes. She couldn't look at herself, not now, not after what she had allowed Howie to do with her. Oh, God, but I do love him… She slid under the sheets and turned off the bedside light, plunging the room into darkness.

She lay there, waiting for her husband to come to her, upset by his lusting behavior, still more distraught by her own. She had let him do his will with her, and worse, she had become excited as he had. True, it wasn't because of the pictures – of that she adamantly refused to admit – but only because seeing her husband wanting her so much made her react.

What a terrible way for their third anniversary to end! Oh, if only the Taylors could have foreseen what their gift would have meant, she was sure that they'd never have given it! And where was Howie? Was he still looking at those damning pictures?

"Howie!" she called out. "Please come to bed!"

"C-Coming, honey," came the wavering reply. "I-I was just having another drink!" His strong, masculine form suddenly filled the doorway, and then the lights went on again. Cindy shielded her eyes with her arm. "Turn off the lights," she said.

"In a minute, honey. In a minute." He shed his clothes quickly, and then he was on the bed beside her in a kneeling position, naked, his erect and pulsating cock already standing out from his groin. "You're beautiful, Cindy," he murmured, and slowly slid the sheet away from her, exposing her again.

"Howie," the trembling young wife responded. "Howie, I love you so much!"

"Mmmm!" he answered as he unbuttoned the nightie at the throat and let it fall away from her body, a cascade of filmy white. He roamed his hands over her, playing with her breasts, tweaking her nipples into vibrating firmness. He had never stopped marveling in her beauty, her wide-eyed, almost shy way she came to him, as though she was a virgin every time, as though he was the only man who could arouse her to where her passion overcame her "first time" reluctance. And he was the only man!

Then he looked at her, smiling, and in his hands were those filthy pictures! Cindy gasped, cringing down in the bed as she saw them. "Put them away, Howie," she protested.

He grinned lewdly, his face a mask of desire. "Why? They're only of you, my darling. Here, see this one?" He cast a shot of her on the couch in front of her eyes… and once more she saw herself smiling provocatively, her throbbing breasts rich and full, her skirt high and her soft white panties in full view…

"Please! Howie," she moaned, and twisted her face away, but as she did so, she glimpsed down her body, at her breasts which were now unhampered by a bra, at the flat plane of her trembling belly, at the soft, lovely spread legs and the soft pubic down which covered her pink vaginal opening. For one terrifying moment she saw that inexplicably her cunt was shining with the excited honeyed dew of her secretions…

She was excited! And strangely, by those damnable pictures!

The force of the realization was crippling; a blow like a tornado, filling her mind with a lurid feeling of degradation and shame. Her eyes filled with hot tears of self-abasement, and in agony, she grabbed the pictures from her husband and threw herself in his arms. She wouldn't admit her arousal, not to herself, and especially to her husband. What would a man think of his sweet, loving wife, then? Terrible things! She gripped the heaving, naked chest of Howard, afraid he would cast her aside as some whore, some defiled harlot sick of mind and body, if he knew what those few snapshots had done to her…

"Howie, love me," she pleaded desperately. "Love me slow!" she dropped the photos to the bed, where Howard still saw them, and as he once more spied the curls of golden fleece peeking out of the silken legband of her panties, his cock leapt to a new, full-blooded high. He arched his groin, moving his hardened shaft up and down along her upper belly, for he was still on his knees and she was sitting up… he groaned, feeling the heat of his long-building sexual fire become a raging inferno inside his lust-bloated penis and sperm-filled balls…

He leaned back and in doing so his cock neared her breasts. For a moment he shut his eyes, letting the remembrance of those tantalizing lips in the pictures play in his passion-filled brain, and thinking of their softness, their butterlike pliancy on his own lips, he began to ache for them to kiss his pulsing cock. He groaned, sliding uncontrollably up on the bed, angling so that his cock was to his nubile wife's trembling chin.

His hand snaked along the covers to the pictures. His fingers felt their edges and even though he couldn't view them, he knew now from memory what each contained, and the thoughts drove to new urgency. As he had so many times in the past when aroused to such a point, he dismissed what he knew was her natural aversion to such an act, and groaned to his wife: "Kiss me, Cindy… kiss me there!" His hardened penis was almost to her ruby lips; all she had to do was bend her face a scant few inches, and her mouth would be closing over the sensitive, fully grown head…

A shudder passed through Cindy. "No… no… not that, Howie! You know I… can't… not there!" She turned her face away, her features contorted in a look of revulsion as if to kiss him, to suck his penis was a foul, bitter thing to do. "Not down there," she whispered, and she moved forward, her arms encircling his head and pulling him downwards, full length along the bed. "I… I know you want me to, but don't make me," she sobbed, "I want to make you happy, but not that way. Please!"

As before, as always, the urgent and overwhelming desire to have his wife's delicate, soft, warm mouth close around his prick died; the image of her mewling and crooning as he spurted his white hot sperm into her throat vanished with reluctant regard for Cindy's abject repulsion of the act. This was the only flaw in an otherwise wonderful relationship, and at no time in their three years of making love had he been able to prove the eroticism of lips against vagina, mouth against penis. He held her tight, feeling her warm body undulate uncontrollably against his body, her soft belly and pelvis grinding against his penis until her refusal was forgiven and his disappointment forgotten.

"Oh… baby!" Cindy moaned. "Darling, darling don't be mad. I need you inside me so much!"

"Yes… yes," he heard himself say. He drew her closer to him, moving one hand down to encase the soft, smooth curves of her buttocks. She glued her mouth to his, darting her pink tongue in and out and along his teeth, and then brazenly moved her hand down to grasp his cock. Her cool contact made Howard quiver and he pressed his lips harder against hers to show his appreciation. She strained the full length of her body, grinding and pushing, and then she spread her legs and thighs wide and poised his penis against the snug mouth of her hungry young cunt, the thin, hair-lined lips of her innermost desires relaxing with the overwhelming need of him to enter.

There, Howie… right there. Now!

He lunged, his hips thrusting heavily as he drove into her waiting passage, feeling her fevered, pulsating vagina almost greedily clasp his cock and absorb it. She wanted all of him tonight, and Howard was amazed that in spite of the rejection of the picture taking, she seemed almost wanton, almost completely lost in the world of sexual abandonment… he couldn't understand her, but didn't try, not with her pussy pushed forward until the head of his cock was pressed hard up against her cervix, her motions of a muscle spasming tempo. She held him tightly, not only with her clasping, smoothly sliding vagina, but with her widespread legs, kicking them out to the side and locking her slender ankles tight around his driving hips. He increased his own strokings, fucking into his wife with almost maniacal fury. Oh, God! He wasn't going to be able to last long tonight! Sometimes they would slowly and softly make love for hours, but not now, not at this rampaging, furious pitch! He was going to reach orgasm soon!

"Oooooohhh, Howie! You feel so good! So good!" his now voracious wife whimpered, kissing his neck and shoulders. "Yes! Yes! That feels so goooddddd!" Then she began to babble incoherently, and he knew that Cindy was fast approaching her own climax, and that spurred him on to new, more powerful strokes. Her knees drew up as she raised herself even higher off the bed and her moistly splayed cunt bucked wildly back up against his ramming penis.

"OOOOOOOhhhhhh… OOOHHH Godddd!" she cried out as if tortured. "I'm… I'm there! I'm theeeeerrrrrrreeeee!" With a sudden, deep throated groan, Cindy Jamison erupted underneath her husband, and in doing so it released Howard's dammed-up explosion. His cum churned through his swollen testicles and through his penile shaft, bursting through the unseeing eye to flood his wife's hungrily milking pussy. Again and again giant spurts of creamy seed flowed from him until at last he collapsed, a sigh of contentment mingling with her own mewlings of gratification.

As sanity returned to him, Howard edged his body off his wife and rolled over. Cindy, nearly asleep, kissed him lightly on the cheek and curled herself up in a warm ball.

"Good night, honey," she murmured drowsily. "Happy anniversary."

"Sleep tight, honey," he replied thickly, and then put the covers over her. As sleep overtook him, Howard thought that his wife was damned good in bed, in spite of her Victorian hang-up about oral or other forms of sex. He looked at her tenderly, and for some reason, he seemed to view her form, nestled as it was with but a sheet over her and the gown beneath her, as a picture.

A simple snapshot… one he would love to add to the few shots he'd taken this evening. But he knew it was one he'd never get. He sighed and turned over, shutting off the light and plunging the room into darkness again.