Then, rising from the bath, she dried quickly with a towel that matched the washcloth. Once the droplets of water were gone from her skin, she opened a jar of cream and smoothed it over her body, sighing a little, feeling completely relaxed.

She walked into the bedroom and opened the dresser drawers until she found what she wanted. Tossing on a sleeveless white nightgown and a pair of pretty lace panties that made her feel delicately feminine and sexy, she made her way down the hall to the living room and sat on the sofa beside her husband. He tossed one arm casually around her narrow shoulders, pulling her close to him. She leaned her head on his chest, inhaling his fragrance, loving the way his strength made her feel small and protected, utterly safe. His fingertips toyed with the ends of her hair, tugging gently, stroking, making her scalp tingle. That tingle spread down through her body. It quickly became too much, and she rose from the sofa and went to a little tufted three-legged ottoman. Without reflection she opened the lid and had to restrain herself from squealing with delight. Inside the secret storage area, there was a collection of knitting needles in all sizes; single and double sided, circular, silver and ivory. It was a knitter's dream. And nestled beside the needles were balls of the softest white yarn she could imagine. A strand extended from one of the skeins to a little half-finished rectangle in a complicated lace pattern. It would be a baby blanket when it was done, and like Anne herself, this woman knitted from her imagination, as there was no sign of a pattern sheet. She scooped up the item and scurried back to the couch, eager to continue. A quick examination showed the combination of knit, purl, yarn over, and knitting two stitches together which would yield the little bunches and openings she sought.

There was a new episode of Hogan's Heroes then I Dream of Jeannie on another channel, during which Anne knitted with quick, steady fingers, leaning against the arm of the sofa, her legs tucked up beside her. Occasionally Nick would trail a teasing finger over the arch of her foot, making her squirm and glare, which was met with an unrepentant chuckle. When the closing credits rolled, Anne's husband walked to the television and pressed the power button to turn it off. She set her knitting aside on a little end table. He took her hand, and when she stood he swept her into his arms. She placed her arms around his neck, melting in his magnificent eyes as she was carried to the bedroom.




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