HOW ABOUT A CUP OF COFFEE?

The person who lives in the other room will leave the building within an hour. At present her splashing noises tell me where she is, and I am gallantly avoiding that part of our apartment, so as to guarantee her a measure of privacy. This despite the fact that she has a nice body of which it is well worth catching a glimpse.
I myself will probably not bathe till just before nine thirty, when there is no one here who could wish to catch a glimpse of my nice body. My privacy is a fore-gone conclusion.

I'm still on my first cup of coffee. At some point soon I shall head into the kitchen and spark a cheroot near the open window. While not thinking about nice bodies. And you will no doubt understand that my definition of nice bodies is not the same as yours. The kitchen is not a place for nice bodies.
Naked and wet or not.
Darn.

I am not fully awake yet. The mental concept "naked body" does not require one to be fullly alert. A normal man can dwell upon entirely imaginary nice nakedness even when nearly asleep. It's a keenly honed skill which the other gender (often referred to as "nice naked body") does not grasp.

At this hour of the day, nice bodies (the other gender previously referenced) are contemplating breakfast. A woman wakes up with food on her mind, a man wakes up with dirt on his.

This probably explains why breakfast places always seem to have a feminine touch, and there are no naked men to be found.


I think I'm ready for that second cup.


I'll be naked around nine thirty.


No one else will be here.


A very great pity.


Coffee.



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