Dylan was a senior creative at a major advertising firm at only 33, and by all accounts had a good life. He had married Clarice, a model from one of the company's campaigns, and they had been quite happy for the first few years. Since then, though, the spark seemed to have died a little. She was distant, sometimes furtive, away on modelling assignments for longer and longer. When  Clara was home, their sex life... well, it had never been especially adventurous, but now it was more infrequent and stilted than ever.

He had gathered his courage and visted the friendly local adult goods store for some props to improve things... but the woman he met there, and his wife's reaction to the toys and lingerie only served to confuse him more.

Dylan stood 6'3” tall and was well-muscled, being the captain of the company softball team, an avid rower, runner and weightlifter. Good genes and all that exercise gave him a powerful physique, though his naturally charming and polite demeanour kept him from seeming too threatening. His face was broad, with masculine features, bright blue eyes under dark brows, and a wryly expressive mouth. He spoke with a hint of a Southern drawl, a remnant of his childhood.