The digital alarm, set on the nightstand beside the Queen-Sized bed of the master suite, began beeping angrily; flashing it’s glaring red light in order to wake Mark up. The alarm only read 5:40am. And yet, Mark was already stirring, his lips parted to release a yawn. He sat up, leaning against the smooth velvet headboard, the black duvet slumping just over the waistband of his boxer-briefs. The taut muscles of his torso clenched as he stretched, before his dark eyes slid over to you.

"Are you awake?" He inquired in a low tone, leaning over to peer curiously at you. It was a Monday, and that meant he was going to leave for work; being a rising politician, the senator—running for congress next year—was away at Olympia for work every, Monday through Friday evening. He wanted to take the opportunity to say bye, spend another morning with you, before he had to go for work.