I pulled out my vintage uchiwa and gently fanned myself. I tilted my head back a little and let out a small sigh of relief. The cool air whirling around my body felt great. It was an absolutely beautiful day in Normandy, and I was standing outside of the villa waiting for my dad. I watched as the front door slowly opened before my 6' 3" tall dad stumbled out. I quietly giggled to myself as I continued to watch him struggle down the steps as he carried a large picnic basket and a rucksack. "I could use a hand here, Naomi." He called out. I lightly jogged my way over to him and removed the rucksack from his shoulder. "What on earth have you got in here?" I asked as I fought to fling the bag over my own shoulder. "My photography equipment of course." My dad was a freelance photographer. An amazing one in fact. We were in Normandy for the week so that he could add more photos to his portfolio. He would often travel the world to take incredible pictures, bringing me his only daughter. "I think you're hotter than ever! I keep telling you that, but you just don't listen."One of the many traits that drew me toward Monica when we first met was that she didn't seem to realize how beautiful she was. She had luxurious, soft, light auburn hair with natural waves down to her shoulders, and emerald-green eyes that sparkled when she smiled. That smile of hers sent bolts of lightning straight to my heart. She was a petite little thing with an athletic little body and an angelic face peppered with tiny freckles. Oddly enough, the trait that I found so endearing when we met had become an irritation. How could she not see how beautiful she was?She sighed loudly. "Yeah, well, I'm sorry to say my kinky sexy days are long behind me. I'm afraid you'll have to take what you get. Now, are you going to 'fuck' me or what?" Ooh, dirty talk!" I said, climbing on top of her. "I say that's progress."*The following Friday, just before Monica turned out the lights, I handed her a small gift.
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