Mona applies another layer of her favorite red lipstick. It glides over her plump lips. Staring into the bathroom mirror, she smiles, runs an equally plump tongue over her white, straight teeth. Spent plenty of daddy's money on those, she thinks, feeling beyond worthy of such spending. Flexing her buttocks, she sticks it out behind her, takes a quick selfie, those same lips puckered, almost pouty. Her purple workout bra clutches her breasts like a greedy, selfish lover. Momentous cleavage takes center stage of her selfie, which she ponders, briefly adjusting the contrast, trying to erase the wrinkles creeping slowly, but persistently across her still youthful face. Her exhausting exercise routine now completed, her cheeks sing like Alice's roses. Accepting the selfie, she posts it to all her socials with a heart and winky face emoji.
Will, her husband of a decade, is off exercising himself, running late at night like he's ashamed to be seen in daylight hours. She takes this rare hour he doesn't clutch her side like the aforementioned workout bra to post on her Vulture account, an adults' only site where people, mostly horny middle-aged men, pay to watch her touch herself, or just post nudes. She pops out one of her large breasts, a deeply brown, almost red nipple is exposed. It's what her viewers pay for . . . and now she really pouts, sticks a manicured finger in front of her lips as if saying "shhhhhhh". Snapping a pic or three, she finds her favorite and posts it to Vulture. The likes begin in earnest. Giggling, she tucks her breast back into her bra and turns the shower on behind her. Water hits the ivory colored tile of the shower stall.
"Where did you post that photo?" Will asks behind her, standing in their bedroom doorway.
Mona, used to running this man, looks him over, sees his pathetic face dripping with fear and says: "Wherever the fuck I want to post it. We going to fight over my phone again, Willy? Get a gentle grip of your balls and mind your business."
Will's face burns red, rage consuming him. He hits the side of the open door. Mona jumps but only slightly. She knows this routine, and she says: "Look, babe. I took it for you. Come here. Come see."
He does as he's told and peers over her slender shoulder to see the recent pictures of her exposed breast. He says: "You didn't post those?"
"No, my love," Mona replies, taking off her joggers and workout bra. Standing there naked, waiting for Will to make a move towards his usual clumsy attempts at sex, he grunts, reaches out and holds her left breast. Squeezing it, he stops, looks at himself in the mirror, long face haunted and gaunt, and he moves away from her, no doubt in search of cold water after his run. She grins, not bothered by his dismissal, and steps under the near scalding hot shower. Steam rises and covers her form.
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