“Holy, motherf***ing s**t!” Is all that runs through my head.

The most beautiful woman is standing in front of me with nothing but this short dark blue sweater that is form fitting, barely hits her mid thighs and is hanging off one shoulder.  Her hair is down and still wet from her bath and no make-up on.  I thought I was a goner last night when she was all dolled up, but this is the end for me.

“What?” she questions softly. Looking around, like she has no idea what has my attention. Which, now that I think about it, she may have no idea what she is doing to me.

“Nothing.” I recovered lamely “Did you enjoy the bath?” I ask, trying to regain my focus and turn back to making breakfast. I try to

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