'I see.' John fell silent and recalled a page of irrelevant information about the preceding chapter that had nothing to do with his rival before murmuring, 'And I'm supposed to catch you sleeping innocently in his arms in chapter.

'That's tomorrow night,' Marcia whispered, hoping the reader wouldn't hear. John discreetly acknowledged the always-surprising fact that he had a boner before crossing his legs and asking, 'Aren't you supposed to be sneaking off to cheat on me with that struggling, under-employed painter?' John noted two paragraphs worth of Marcia's considerable physical assets with a healthy amount of lustful yet restrained and heroic-sounding internal admiration, although it felt a good deal like what he had done in an earlier scene when he had observed her walking through the expansive gardens outside his mansion while she wore a thin frock that unbeknownst to her the bright sunlight had turned semi-transparent. ' She swallowed and looked around in confusion.

'What am I doing here?' she repeated, in the event the reader had forgotten John's question. She allowed her conflicted feelings about him to rise and ebb before she felt a pressing need for dialogue and remembered she hadn't answered him. Marcia indulged in several paragraphs of describing John and the room to herself. 'Marcia.' As she had never been in this part of the house, or seen him in his present casual yet attractive attire, John waited for her to take in his appearance and that of his surroundings before he asked, 'What are you doing here?' 'Hello, John,' Marcia said as she sauntered into the room.

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