The Nuru Fund

Sonia Harcourt and Brad Newman are lounging on the couch after a hell of a morning. Their kids won't barge in for a while, dinner's getting delivered later, so they've got hours to kill. Brad wants to run something by her first though—a big money move he's made. He's taken some of their farm cash and dumped it into a brand-new product: Nuru gel. Sonia sits back and listens while he walks her through the whole business plan, telling her this stuff's recession-proof, sex sells even when wallets shut tight. "Is it really that bulletproof?" she asks. Brad grins, tells her if his gut's right, this'll set them up. Only one way to know. He grabs a bottle, squeezes the slick gel onto Sonia's skin. She looks at the goo, smirks, calls it weird but hot. They strip fast. Sonia climbs onto Brad's back, pours more gel over herself, and starts sliding—tits, thighs, everything gliding across muscle. The gel's like liquid sex, turning them both on fast. Before long they're fucking right on that couch, slippery and laughing, officially sold on the product and done arguing about the investment.