Just the thought of the things he'd done to her - those things she'd done to him - caused her cheeks to flush with a curious mixture of embarrassment and pride.
After a lengthy shower the tenderness had begun to subside and Emily's body soon began to acknowledge a new sensation: exhaustion. Tucking a dampened strand of her chestnut locks behind her ear as she stifled a yawn, she exited the bathroom and made her way towards her dresser; rather the object that rested atop the mahogany antique furnishing--a pink ostrich Birkin bag.
This was all so new to her.
She grumbled silently as she navigated the contents of the obscenely expensive designer purse, sweeping aside breath mints, credit card receipts, and a banana clip among other various items. It seemed things were so much easier - not to mention convenient - the other way, she mused. It was virtually impossible to forget. But this way... Hell, she'd actually gone three days without--
The thoughts were interrupted as she realized her search had proven fruitless.