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It had been a busy week and I was driving back to the office from a client; I had been held up at the client and was now late. As I would be driving past our house, I phoned the office to check nothing was amiss, and then headed home instead. I'd been away the last few days, and John was away at the start of the week, so I hadn't seen him since Monday morning. I detoured past the supermarket and bought the food for the weekend; got home, changed, bunged the washing on, and prepared the evening meal. I made a casserole for the oven as I didn't know what time John would be in. It was worth rushing around, as I then poured an ice cold glass of wine and went to sit in the garden enjoying the last of the afternoon sun. I briefly day-dreamed of David Beckham, his amazing body and stamina and what he could do for me, and then drifted off to sleep.

"Well it's alright for some, relaxing at home; never mind the workers!" boomed John. I jumped up startled, skipped over to him, put my arms around his neck, kissed him and then swung on his neck and kicked my legs in the air - it was good to see him after a week away. "Ok, forgiven," he said as he put me down gently. "Hell of a day, I'm going upstairs for a shower and a change." "OK, dinner's cooking." I got things ready, poured him a glass of red wine, and took it upstairs. John was just coming out of the shower; he looked good. "Here you are dear," offering him the glass of wine, "a wine, and the dinner's cooking; everything you need." He grabbed me around the waist, "yes, and including you." He put the wine down and kissed me hard, and then ...

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