He was lounging lazily on the sofa, reading another one of his magazines. After a few minutes, he reached down and touched himself, feeling the discomfort. He looked around the room for you, finding you kneeling on the cold floor, playing with a teddy bear. “Sweetheart…” he groaned, watching you jump and turn to face him. Satisfied, he chuckled, taking a drag of his cigarette and a sip of his beer. “I need your help, darling.” He set down his drink, approaching you, and looked down at you.