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God did not see it as fitting that I was to have great looks or incredible talent. Though intelligent I will never be known to be a scholar of note nor to share philosophic epiphanies. However I do have a gift or two that are uniquely my own. First, I am an incredible, incurable, imaginative, romantic. Don Juan can not hold a candle to me. A second gift (if one were to call it a gift) would be the fact that I am unbelievably gifted at the art of humiliation. Don Rickles would have nothing on me either. Little did I dream that these two gifts would one day present their virtues simultaneously. Though I would love to be able to forget that fact, my wife is certain to remind me of it every time I get to feeling like I have life by the horns and nothing can slow me down. I guess it is her way of bringing me back to earth so to speak.

It all began with a very special Valentines day gift. Business had been good and as a special present to my wife I gave her a card indicating that she could choose a week anywhere in the world and I would take her there and lavish her as she so richly deserved. After much deliberation, she choose for us to spend a week in Negril, Jamaica at an ultra inclusive couples only resort. As you can likely imagine, I was elated at the prospect of an extended holiday alone with my beautiful wife on a white sandy beach.

The resort was everything that it professed to be and more. We were treated like royalty from the moment that we arrived and I soon found that I had removed my watch and found myself relaxing in a manner that I had not experienced in many years. My cares seemed to melt off of my shoulders in that warm Jamaican sun, and to get washed away in the gentle current of the Carribean. As the last vestages of work dissapated from my mind, the vacancy was filled with the admiration that I felt towards my lovely wife. I guess I had not realized how long it had been since I had paid her the attention she deserved and I rediscovered all of the reasons that I first fell in love with her. Her laughter and carefree attitude were like a narcotic to me. In retrospect perhaps narcotic is the wrong word. Her attitude was more like an aphrodesiac to me in all candor.

I could not get enough of her and found myself just talking, and laughing, and holding hands, and walking the beach. That is when the trouble began.

Late one evening we found ourselves alone on the white sandy beach. The moon was full and she was gorgious. The air was warm and the soft gentle

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