He leans back on the bed watching over the top of his book as she sits at the dressing table, unpinning her hair. I like the way your breasts rise when you raise your arms over your head, he thinks. But it does not arouse me as it did in those early days. Each pin removed allows a few more strands to fall from the tightly coiled bun. She tilts her head to one side allowing the brush to stroke freely. The tendons at the s...