Wendy tried finding something on TV that was interesting. She found nothing. Pressing the remote, she tossed it on the nightstand and sat up, reaching for Darrel's coveted black suitcase. She pulled it onto the bed with a grunt of effort, then sat with her hand on her pregnant stomach as she opened the sacred suitcase and took out some of Darrel's magazines. What trash, she thought as she spread them out on the bed. Big Ones? Hell, she qualified for that. Her breasts were growing enormous. Darrel planned on making lots of money when he returned to the states. British porno mags were big in America.
 "You fucking asshole," she swore to herself as she slapped the pages roughly aside one at a time.
 "If you knew I couldn't ski, then why in the hell did you plan a ski trip?" she continued. Her voice echoed in the empty room. She stopped briefly, looking at a beautiful, young, and non-pregnant girl in the magazine. He was off to Serre Chevalier, supposedly one of the places where James Bond skied. Who the fuck cared? How could he leave her in the Hotel Manchester alone on their anniversary? She decided to call his cell phone again. It annoyed him no end to be called while on the slope. Good, it served the bastard right.
 "Now what, darling?"
 "I'm lonely," Wendy said in her saddest, little girl voice.
 "Wendy, darling, call somebody will you. I will be back in two days, you know that. Right now I'm at the top of the slope, ready to swish down."
 "Who should I call?"
 "I don't know," he said, growing annoyed again. Wendy smiled and looked at the ceiling. "Call your mother, or better yet, call a tour guide and see London. You've always wanted too."
 "I wanted to see it with you."
 "You will, just as soon as I get back. Now please go away and do something," he said, breaking the connection.
 Wendy thumbed through a few more pages in the magazine. She suddenly realized that the lewd sluts in the magazines were making her horny. Dam her hormones, she was turning into a lesbian. Well why not, the girls were really pretty and she wouldn't mind going down on them. Just once.
 Wendy picked up the phone and called the front desk.
 "Hello, do you have a tour guide or something down there?"
 "No," he said in a snobbish voice. Wendy gave the phone the finger, then tried to talk as sweetly as possible.
 "I'm Wendy Sipes, in the bridal sweet."
 "I know that madame, I can see you on the switchboard."
 "You can?" Wendy asked, horrified. She was wearing a skimpy top and thong.
 "No madame, I can see the light on my switchboard. It tells me which room is calling.
 "Oh. Well I'm bored. Can you help?"
 "In what way?" he asked at the height of snobbishness.
 "Do you have anyone who would like to fuck a pregnant woman on your staff?" she demanded, tired of his sarcasm.
 "One moment, I'll check," he said, covering the phone. Wendy stared at her phone in horror. In a moment the snob came back on. "Yes ma'am, we have several. What are you looking for?" he asked in all seriousness.
 "Somebody young, athletic, and blonde," Wendy said with a slight giggle, which she knew he would disapprove of.
 "He'll be right up," the clerk said and hung up.
 "Oh fuck," Wendy gasped, replacing the phone. What had she done? What would she do if the guy really showed up? He did. There was a knock on the door, and a young man walked into the room. Wendy did not have time to cover her half- nakedness.