"And up the stairs to the left is the master bedroom." The real estate agent's voice could be heard a floor below Diane and Kurt.

This was the fifth place they'd seen today, and about the 30th place they'd seen over the past month. Each place was rejected either by Diane or Kurt.

Diane had only rejected 5 apartments, Kurt had rejected the rest. Typically, he'd find a problem with it, and it wasn't even a major problem. Too small, no garage, too much light, the bathroom was ugly. She could tell by the look on her husband's face that they'd be looking at quite a few more apartments today.

Diane gave a cursory glance into the guest bedroom and did a quick circle through the master bedroom. Her husband didn't even bother. He just stood in the hallway, devising a scenario with which to reject this place too.

"Millie?" Diane called down to the agent.

"Let me guess? No?" came the woman's lilt.

"Just give us a few minutes, ok?" Diane requested.

"Sure, I'll be outside scoping out the next place."

Diane turned to her husband. "What's wrong with this one? Termites? Alien invasion? Oh wait, I know, it reminds you too much of a book you read in high school and you're afraid of the ghost in the attic?"

Kurt smirked at his wife. She had a point. His excuses were getting lame, even for him. He sighed. "Diane, I just want us to have the perfect place, is that too much to ask?"

"Kurt, I'm sorry, but I'm not moving out to the country. This is the perfect neighborhood. Close to both of our offices, the L train, restaurants, so, what is your problem with this one?"

"I….it's…well…." Kurt was trying to decide how to tell her his problem with all of the apartments they'd been looking at. His neighbor had approached him over a month ago, over a delicate matter. And another neighbor last week. And one this morning. Kurt hadn't had the heart to tell Diane the issue, but it seemed like he wasn't going to escape unscathed.

"What? Kurt? How are we supposed to find your perfect place if you won't tell me what's wrong with this one?"

"It's, well….there's no privacy."

"No privacy?" Diane scoffed. "Kurt, it's 4 stories, has assigned parking, which is practically unheard of in Chicago, and it shares a terrace with one neighbor. How is that not private?"

"There's neighbors on both sides, and the walls are thin!" Kurt began to descend the stairs.

"The walls aren't thin! Your skull is just too thick to realize that this is a great place!" Diane trailed after him.

"Ok, there are windows everywhere! There! There! There! and there!" he pointed out each one. "And oh look! A neighbor!" He scoffed.

"Well, I'm sorry that I don't want to live in an underground bunker! Heaven forbid we let sunlight in!" Diane was getting more pissed.

"I just think we need to find some place more private!" He roared as he descended to the second floor.

"This is private!" She was hot on his heels.

"Why are you so adamant about this place?"

"Why are you so against it?"

"I told you, privacy!"

"And I told you it was private!"

"It's not private enough!" He snarled.

She grabbed his arm before he could go down the last set of stairs. He whirled around, his frustration evident.

"How much more privacy do we really need?" She was pissed.

He stood there, his jaw set. Unwilling to answer her.

"I asked you a question!"

"We need thicker walls and an end unit!"

"What the hell for?"

"So that the neighbors don't hear you scream when we fuck!" he bellowed.

Diane's mouth hung open in disbelief. Of all the reasons he husband could've presented to her, this was nowhere on the list. She closed her mouth, and then reopened it. But nothing would come out.

He was breathing hard, embarrassed by his admission.

She finally made a squeaking sound "what?"

"I…er…"

"Kurt, tell me."

"I…er…our neighbor, approached me about a month ago when they found out we were moving. She suggested that we find a place with a little more sound proofing."

"You mean, they listen?"

"Well, you are rather loud." He smirked at her.

"I am not!" she swatted at him.

"Yeah, you are." Was his quiet comeback. "Not that I'm complaining!"

"Kurt!" she was embarrassed.

"What? I like that you are a screamer." His arm wrapped around her.

"I like it too." She purred as she leaned closer to kiss him. "I like it a lot." She kissed his cheek. "I especially like what you do that makes me scream." She bit his ear lobe, tugging on it.

"I like what I do that makes you scream. But I like it more when you can't make a sound."

Diane smiled at him. She tugged his hand and lead him down the last set of stairs.

"Millie?" she called out to the agent.

"Out here!" was the muffled response from outside.

Stepping into the bright sun, Diane informed her "we're going to need to change the parameters of our search. Maybe an end unit with a bit more privacy?"

"Ok, let me see what I can find." Millie went back to scrolling through her listings.

"And something with a garage." Was Kurt's input.

"Why are you worried about that?" Diane asked.

"Because I haven't told you what our other neighbors told me." Diane's eyes widened at her husband's response. He lowered his voice and spoke directly in her ear. "Apparently, we're the talk of the neighborhood. Especially after last week."

Diane thought back to last week. Suddenly, a blush crept up her décolletage and her cheeks. They'd gone to dinner, she'd had a lot of wine, and she'd fucked him silly in the driver's seat of his jeep. "oh." Was her quiet response.

"And the neighbors across the street…and the ones behind us."

The blush got more crimson.

"Millie, are there any underground bunkers for sale?"