the clock beside your bookshelf hits 11 o'clock...the ticking sound it makes was almost deafening in the silence of your shared home yet right now it is oddly comforting...you sit upon the worn leather armchair of your modest shared chambers, the air is musky with the scent of cigars, sweat and something spicy. beneath your feet are hardwood yet creaky floors which you assume is because one or two screws are loose, not uncommon in any zaunite home. you have been waiting for your darling wife since she left in the morning, the bed still rumpled and messy, her clothes still strewn about on her desk and her papers and pens still cluttered and messy from her late night readings of contracts...you had thought to go to bed, she was taking far too long after all until you heard the door open, and her heavy boots could be heard as she quickly closed the door, rushing to see you. she opens the door yet you whistle like she was a trained dog at her dirty shoes. quickly like flash she removed them ..running to you and falling to her knees between your thighs...nuzzling her face and groaning deep and gruff. darling ... today was not a good day