Twenty minutes later, she reappeared, wrapped in a towel, steam billowing from the bathroom behind her. Jaime showed no signs of waking, but she still...dressed as quietly as she could, opening the drawers slowly and turning the fan up a notch to cover any accidental noises.She rubbed baby oil over her still-damp body, lingering for just a second too long over her small high breasts. She was pale all over, with downy golden hairs on her arms and dark blonde curls between her legs. Her limbs were. At least, he thought he should be happy. Just turned thirty in middle management of a small but very successful PR firm, with good prospects of further promotion; married to a very lovely, bubbly and intelligent woman, joint owners with her of a prestigious apartment in London's Docklands overlooking the river. Surely he had everything he'd wanted and worked for? Surely he should be happy? So why was he wondering about divorcing Cathy? Okay, the sex could have been better ... it certainly could. More

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