The light from the screen bleached her skin a pale white. Even her shirt, a green tee, was a sickly lime color. Sighing, she rested her head on her hands, and wracked her brains for an inspiration. She had encountered a writer's block, and agonized over the deadline. How she would finish the story for tomorrow, she didn't know. It was already late, and she was finding it difficult to keep her eyes open.
Suddenly, the door opened, and Harry, her husband, poked his head in. "Hey, Marsha. What's my little author-for-a-wife working on so late?"
She leaned back in her chair and stretched, saying, "I'm working on a story for a porn magazine. One of their models is at the center of some controversy, so they don't want her spread in this issue. At the same time, they don't have enough time to do another photo-shoot. Their last hope is for me to write them a killer sex story."
He walked all the way into the room. "Ooh, that's unlike you. I like it! So, what's the problem?"
"Well," she said, "I've never written anything like this before. I have the characters, I have the setting. Now all I need is the scene. And, I'm stuck." She turned to him, and added, "This needs to be finished by tomorrow, or they will be forced to re-use a past spread! And, worse, I will be forced to admit that there's a story I can't write!"
Harry smiled and slowly made his way to her. "And you need a little bit of inspiration, I guess."
She smiled slyly. "Yes, I suppose I could." Then she pouted, adding, "But I'm afraid we don't have a good enough sex life to inspire me. I know I can only ever go one round."
Harry nodded, and, massaging his wife's stiff shoulders, said, "I know. Neither of us has very much stamina." He thought for a moment, and then sighed. "I shall share a secret with you. Follow me." He turned, and, gently taking his wife by the hand, led her from the room, down the hall, and into the bathroom. He closed the door behind them and pulled a stepstool from below the sink.
Marsha said, confused, "What in the hell are you doing?"
He answered, "This past week, I've had the good fortune to study a prime sexual couple, right next door. I accidently found them on Monday, and have been watching every night since." Noticing his wife's slightly disgusted look, he added, "I just wanted to change it up a bit for us."
She nodded, and started to smile. "I might've done the same."
Harry looked out the window again, and suddenly shouted, "Here they are now!"
Marsha began to step on the stool, only to say, "Wait, let me get something first." Then she ran from the room.
Harry called after her, "Well, hurry up! They're already making out!" He watched as the two made their way to the bed, kissing and grinding together, rubbing their hands all over the other's body, grabbing each others' groin. The man groped her tits, and lowered his partner onto the bed slowly.
Harry's wife returned, and stepped up onto the stool beside him. She pulled a pen and a notepad from behind her, and quickly flipped to an empty page. She held the pen poised above the paper, and began to watch the couple through the window, strategically placed behind their bed.