Why is this noteworthy? Well, in all the time I've known her she's never even intimated that she wanted one. Three of our c***dren have tattoos, one d...esn't. I don't and probably never will. I am 40 years old and getting a tattoo smacks of mid-life crisis to me.Mary is the same age as me and we have been married for almost twenty years. We have four c***dren, two of each. The eldest was born before we were married; she is 21. Her sister is 19. The boys have just turned 18; yes, they are. Tonight was hers and he’d follow along. For now. She got up and turned around. She hooked her thumbs into the top of her underwear and slowly pushed them over her delectable ass and down her legs. She stepped out of them and slowly walked backwards until their legs touched. She sat down and placed her hands on his thighs. She began to slowly move her hips, grinding against him. She delicately roamed her hands over her own body and then finally locked them behind his head, bringing them closer.. There was nothing. My 6" heels lay where they had been discarded when Mr Smith had walked me to the window of the hotel, overlooking London city. My sheer red dress was on the floor where he had lifted it over my head, before kissing my neck and running his hands over me, in full view of London. A bottle of vodka lay on the floor, which I had been swigging from. The mouth of the neck had smears of red lipstick and whispering memories of sex.'Hello?' said the concierge. 'I said, it's sealed for. Rose: It was right here, in the library. I came in looking for a book and there she was, sitting and reading. All alone in this big room while everyone else was running around and having parties. I knew then we would be good friends, best friends!Me: Remember when we met?Rose: Remember you bumping into Abigail? Hahaha!Me: Hahaha!Rose: From now on we could use the library if we want to get away from people. Nobody ever comes in here but us!Me: Everyone has their own hiding place.Rose: What do.