’I’m pretty sure you’ll find his camera in the bottom of the wardrobe, or if not it’ll be in the safe downstairs,’ Zac informed as I continued my hunt for Taylor’s camera supplies so I could arrange a little surprise for us on the honeymoon.

Zac, now there’s a complete waste of space to me, calamity central in this household and he almost always manages to go one step too far to make a total ass of himself. I had to pity him in that respect, I could see him falling up the aisle of his own wedding and perhaps managing to disgrace himself the night before with the stripper designed to tempt him into an adulterous one-night stand. Taylor’s terrified he’ll be chained to a lamppost half naked downtown on his stag night, I couldn’t care less just as long as he gets to the registry office on time and says ‘I do’.

Ah yes, my dearly beloved whom I shall nurse through sickness and health, what a flake he’s turning out to be. He’s what I would have called a wino back in the early days of high school, the stunner who everyone had a crush on but seemed totally clueless to the world around him. But this wino had appeal, and it came in the form of platinum cards, network contacts, public status and a big penis. Enough to make me stay with him and go through with this marriage even though I didn’t love him with all of my heart and my soul- just with my body. He had no complaints he got what he wanted too but I know he loves me and I’d tried so hard to avert that, make this about a blinding lust but he’d fallen along the way and I couldn’t change that. He’s clingy and always trying to be affectionate, I’d like to thank the academy for my stellar performances during all 24 hours of every day when were not in the sack doing the sort of talking I prefer to batter him with. ‘Oh yes baby, deeper’ and ‘you bad bad boy’ were things I were getting used to saying at the right time for that fendi purse I wanted back in New York. I love him all right, but not enough to act like a lovesick puppy dog. He had what I wanted and I had to do little to get it out of him, momma’s boys always were easy to pussy whip.

Upon arriving in his cold room I grinned at some of the boxes in the corner of wedding gifts that the postman had dropped by this morning whilst he was on his way out the door. They were already starting to come in but I guess with a job like him, you know a lot of people from a lot of places and in truth, that’s something I’ll always love, I mean what girl doesn’t like getting expensive gifts almost 365 days of the year? Those stupid fans of his will go all out to buy him something he’ll remember forever and some of the time he does, some of the time they get given to me and he never sees them.

Ignoring the gifts I walked over to his wardrobe, pulling open the large redwood doors to a mass of clothes, sandwiched in tight to the confined space. Some of the god-awful things he wears, and chooses to wear out of personal choice were blinding my sight, those god-awful trousers and that retro shit that should stay back in the 1970’s from whence it came. Pushing aside a bundle of shirts I crouched down to panda through the shoeboxes right to the back, holding my breath from the stench of leather and that clammy wardrobe smell you always get from tightly packed in clothing..

I pulled out some shoeboxes in order to get to the back to locate the camera bag, trying to remember in what order they all went back in, as if it would matter, I’d charm my way out of it with a kiss and a squeeze in the right place. In my clumsiness a couple lost their lids as I lost my balance crouching down and after a couple of profanities I reached to put the lids back on.

In doing so I noticed one bulging with papers, a crumpled manila envelope and black folio file balanced precariously on the top of the overflowing Diesel shoebox. I pushed the papers and file down so the lid would fit some more before going back to my quest for the camera. I rested on my hands, reaching for the bag right at the back and pulling it out, smiling to myself as I delved in for the camera to give me my clue that would provide a present for him and plenty of repayment for me. Nicam 356 series with lots of buttons and doo-hickies and a very worn out camera strap hanging onto the sides by a thread. I put it back in properly, hiding at the dark back of the wardrobe before setting about putting the boxes back the way I found them.

Just as I reached for the bulging paper box, trying to hold the lid on with my thumbs, I lost my balance and toppled onto my back, dropping the box and spilling the most of it’s content out onto the floor. The odd profanity escaped my pursed lips as I scurried about picking up all the things to put them back in the box in some sort of order I hoped would be similar to what it was before. But as I reached for a slip of paper I found the reason why this box was shoved deep in the murky depths of his wardrobe- and it took a good minute before I drew another breath.

The sleek black folio file had fallen open, displaying it’s content in one of those shimmery little poly pockets, the projection of a half naked female frolicking up to her knees in water, she look vacant, distant and cold.

’Well Well Well, what have we here?’ I thought to myself gingerly smoothing my hand over the plastic for a clearer view. There stood an awkward looking woman trying her best to portray a distant beauty and failing miserably. No doubt these pictures belong to Taylor, why else would they be shoved deep in the recesses of his wardrobe where no one could find them, maybe that was the best place for them, his choice of modal was hardly a great one. I chuckled too myself lightly as I grasped the corner turning the page to see just how vacant and awkward this skeleton with split ends could get.

It was no surprise to me that Taylor was hiding this naked ‘beauty’ from me, I know what he’s thinking, quaking in his boots that if I knew he’s taken some nudey pictures I would flip out, give him the whole third degree and throw him outside to think about what he’d done, thus leading him to believe our relationship would not make it to the alter after all. Far from it, any third degree would mean a kiss and make up because I’d refuse to miss out on my little golden opportunity with the light blonde hair. What did amaze me was the fact he’d have the gaul to do this and not confess up straight away as soon as I stepped off the plane, guilt didn’t become him but then again why should it, just looking at her it would be enough to turn him gay I expect.

The next picture I found was her totally stripped with just a flower covering her supposed decency which had probably seen the likes of many men before, her total lack of morals in taking her clothes of for hobby photographers was blatantly obvious, so much to the point she looked so out of it she wasn’t even giving off an aura she was enjoying it much. Her breasts were moderately proportioned but looked flat as pancakes as she laid out on the muddy rock , her hair smoothed over them but the slight glimpse of nipple could be seen poking out. Her eyes closed, probably for the best they looked like coal pieces in the last one and not at all bewitching. Her lips didn’t appear to exist, they seemed to sink into her face like the rest of her features, and maybe that’s why she didn’t qualify as stunning, alternatively beautiful or even cute. Now me, that’s a definition of cute, I know how to use it and I know damn well I do after all I’ve planned to go after Isaac should things fail with Taylor, I’ve seen the way he looks at my behind when i’ve bent over to pick one of the silly little brats toys up off the floor when Diana insists I baby-sit. The quicker me and my little moneyman get away from his icky family the better.

I didn’t even bother to continue on anymore, I’d only burst out in hysterics at Taylor’s rather off-Ish attempt at artistic erotica or dare I say it, creative imagination? He’ll never know I know, it’ll just be my little secret it’s not like there was any threat for the title of Mrs. Jordan Hanson now is there? I didn’t even have a place to be jealous, after all his body and money is all I revel in and she’s obviously no threat to either of those things. Weather she appeared stimulated or not in the pictures wasn’t an issue, I was just trying to understand why he would choose such a sour-puss for a setting that could have given him a little more potential with someone like me posing in it. I’m willing to bet he felt sorry for her, understood that the only satisfaction and validation she gets is from taking her clothes off for strangers, maybe it gives her some warped kick to make her more confident in herself. What a sad life to lead. Who knows, she might be the girl sleeping under the railways bridge on the outskirts, to me that’s all she looked fit for. Mucky light coloured hair, kinda curly by the looks, coal eyes, pencil line lips and an average figure, no striking curves, no stunning long legs and no manicure hands. What a little oddity.

Taylor is far too generous sometimes, as is the obvious case here for there seems to be nothing else promising for the girl. He may as well put them where we can all see and have a good chuckle because lord knows they aren’t damaging to us, not even a slight dent in our ‘relationship’. But in the end I’m thinking it’s good to make him worry a little, perhaps be a little guilty that he’d done something like this because he’ll make every attempted to pay back for damage he thinks I’m none the wiser about. Damage could mean a dinner and a night of enough sex for me to actually get a slight taste of an orgasm or damage could mean that Dolce and Gabbana dress I saw in their window that’s $2000….damage is good.

I chucked the file back in with all the other stuff still chuckling to myself. That poor sad woman, how much she could make herself likable and attractive with a rich husband, a good plastic surgeon and a good letterhead. After all, that’s how things are done nowadays.