..” I decided not to finish the sentence, but while I thought of something else to say, she completed it.“...Or I committed suicide,” she said i... a sad tone.“It would be believable, wouldn’t it?” I asked while getting closer to her, crawling over the bed, and hugging her. “That’s not the case anymore. I won’t let you die.”“Yes… You’ll kill me yourself,” and she chuckled.I just looked at her, admired. She could make jokes about that. I kissed her on the lips, and I tried to undo the image of me. She unbuttoned just one button and let Brad see the lacy top of her lingerie. She moved away and undid another button, then another and another. Shayna threw the jacket to the floor, the bustier now in full view. Brad let out a wolf-whistle and she just smiled back at him. She wiggled sexily, flirtily to a nearby chair and pulled off the pants of the outfit, bumping and grinding a little as she did so. The jet-black silk stockings she wore were accentuated by shiny silvery ‘fuck me’ shoes. Fear and religion had kept that urge at bay but the legitimization of marriage had let it burst loose. Her frustration had built to this urgency to acquire sperm by any means in the desperate hope that she would become a mother.She resumed her travels and was soon in the business district where she had worked before her wedding. She suddenly thought of a co-worker who had flirted and made passes. She still had his phone number and texted him, “Lunch today?” He’d invited her often but she had. "Dorian, listen I am leaving the country on business; while I'm away I need you to look after the house for me. I will call you as soon as I... " My cell died before he could finish. "FUCK!" I knew he would think I hung up on purpose. I was driving home from work and didn't have my car charger. Traffic was jammed up; it sucked even for a friday. Eventualy the grid lock seemed to dissipate, as I drove through down town an establishment caught my eye. I pulled over and parked a decent distance.