Strangely Sandra Draper was growing colder to her husband. Before they had always got on well with each other, sharing a joke and basking in the expensive toys they surrounded themselves with. Now the mood had grown colder, and Charles wondered what the problem was.
One day they had a quarrel so loud, the cries carried out into the garden where Charles was working. He was almost pleased to see a few cracks in the armour, but what he wanted was to be part of all that. To one day stand in that huge room and have his own arguments with Sandra.
There was a day when the husband drove the sleek black car alone, down the motorway. She was left to wander the silent corridors with her dressing gown flowing out behind her, and her arms wrapped tightly around her ribs. This was how Charles saw her as she looked from the window.
The day was starting warm and promised to build up heat so strong, that the grass would almost shimmer before his eyes. It was just before this heat haze descended, that the woman came out onto the lawn and glared at him.
"Well, are you going to stand there, useless?" She spoke the words with bitterness and turned to walk back inside.
Nothing more was spoken, but they both knew their roles now, and he followed her into the house. He had thought about this moment for so long his legs could hardly climb the stairs.
Even as he followed her into the bedroom, there was an air of unease. It was only when he took off his shirt and stood before her that her true mood showed itself. She had been looking from the window at the lawns stretched out before the house, and whatever thoughts they had born, sat heavily upon her now.
"I know you have thought about me. I can see you looking up from the lawn. Were you very hurt when I sent the girl to have sex with you?" Sandra sat on the edge of the bed and seemed almost human as if she cared.
"Yes, I can't pretend that I like being used like that," Charles replied.
"Well, that's the way men treat women. Is it not only fair that we do the same to you?" She went on, unbuttoning her dress before him.
"I would never treat anyone like that. And I certainly would never treat a woman in that way, whether I wanted sex from her or not. It's not human." Charles could see she wanted to get undressed but still feared a trap. After all, what else was she capable of, even here in her bedroom?
"You liked it. Cruel or not. Was it not," said Sandra, "the best orgasm you had ever had? Knowing you had been cruel and brutal to someone?" She had undone her dress to reveal the beauty of her perfect breasts clad in expensive underwear. The fullness of her bosom stretching the fabric along the frills of her cleavage. The texture of her milky white skin blended wonderfully with the softness of the material.
"I prefer some love," said Charles, "when it comes to sex. You have to at least like each other." He had slipped off the jeans and T-shirt he always wore for work in the garden, and stood there with the sweat and dirt on his skin. "I'll take a shower first, it's been hot out there."
"Don't you dare," said Sandra, "I want to be filthy. Just rub yourself all over me. Sweat and all." She was almost panting, catching her breath with the excitement, as she thought about his sweaty dirty body rolling all over hers.
