Instead, now sheforced me to call her Ms. Beringer, her maiden name. In time, as webecame more Parisian, she made me call her Madame Beringer.Nighttim... would come and there was no relief for me. My wife would retireto her bedroom, locking the door behind her. We had long stopped havingintercourse. Actually, two or three weeks into our wedding, she hadcurtly told me that intercourse with me was not pleasant and she didn'twant to do it anymore. No matter how I pleaded with her over the yearsthat. His hands wereevoking odd sensations from her body, ones she was intently enjoying. She imagined his fingertips wandering to her neck, tracing an imaginaryline from behind her ear to her shoulder, lingering upon her breast, hernavel, circling lazily before diving under the waistline of herrestrictive jeans…“Cory!” shouted a voice from the hall. “Are you in there?”Cory cursed under his breath before calling out, “Yeah, Jamie, I’mhere.” His hands. More

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