One morning, Mr. Black, fully content, finally got out of bed in great spirits.
He turned around and glanced at his young wife still in bed, her cheeks flushed, with a smile playing at the corners of his eyes and mouth.
"I'll go run your bathwater; you soak for a while before heading to filming; it'll be more comfortable," James Black said to the woman in bed.
"Hmph! A stick and then a sweet date! If I'm late, you're sleeping on the sofa tonight!" Jane Sampson retorted angrily, grabbing James Black's pillow and hurling it directly at him.
"Stick?" James Black caught the flying pillow, pondered the word for a moment, and then nodded seriously, "Can't say that adjective is completely wrong."
"..." Why does he always manage to say things so seriously that make one blush?
That wasn't at all what she meant.
"You rascal!" Jane glared at the man standing in the doorway of the bathroom and dove headfirst back into the quilt.
