I asked my husband once if he ever watches me when I sleep or do other tasks around the house with love in his eyes without my knowledge. He was hesitant but told me yes, and that that was one of his secrets.

My husband has secrets. Not the kind that he wishes I looked like the beautiful babes on "Baywatch," or strut like a runway model, but special secrets. They are of me.

He told me one. He watches me when I arise from a bubble bath. He said that my skin glistens from the water, and that the way the suds sensually glides down my body and stops at the curve of my hip or clings to my breast and erect nipple drives him wild. He watches in awe but does nothing. Sometimes if he's standing at the sink he'll watch me in the mirror, or passing by, he will stop and wait. When he comes in the bathroom to ask the whereabouts of his blue sock, it's to watch, not because the sock is missing.


I will no longer ask if he watches or daydreams about me during the day. I am thankful that he has these images of me and shared this most intimate thought.

Am I sorry that I asked? No, because my husband told me that his eyes will always watch me with an abundance of love and burning passion.

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