Sandra partially unpacked before busying herself in the washroom. She emerged wearing a black sports bra and panties and headed across the room to pull the drapes together and darken the room.
“We’re staying in?” Cinq-Mars asked, now in shadow on the carpet.
“It’s a night town, É mile.” She pulled the bedcovers down. “I’m resting up for the action.” Tongue-in-cheek, perhaps, but serious, too, she grinned.
É mile was just as happy to strip down and crawl into bed himself, ready for a snooze, and yet, after about ten minutes, they turned, and slid a little closer to each other, and that soon evolved into a snuggle. They tried napping in the spoons position but before sleep overtook them they both grew rowdy. Cinq-Mars honestly believed that he had not expected this, and yet he’d made an allowance for the possibility. To be on the safe side he took the time to ingest a Cialis while freshening up in the terminal after disembarking—in anticipation of the weekend, really, not this nap. Soon both were glad for his foresight.
Later they stirred. Somehow it seemed the right time to dip their toes, at least, into their mutual puddle. É mile was the first to wade in.
“We haven’t seen much of this lately.”
“Twice in the past week. I call that a major escalation. Or did you forget about that time at home already?”
“I meant further back than a week.” He seemed petulant to her.
“No one’s to blame, buddy. We’ve been at odds. I threw you for a loop.”
“I’m not too old to have my heart broken, I found that out. I’m not saying it broke, but that’s only because you haven’t left yet. But it cracked some. It’s getting ready to shatter.”
“Oh God. The melodrama! You’re holding up okay. For Pete’s sake, here you are, out fighting crime for the FBI on the blue bayou.”
“Leather-skinned on the outside. It’s all for show.”
She admitted quietly, “Yeah, I know. Mine cracked some just telling you that I might leave. More than I expected, I guess.”
He tilted his head further toward her. “In that case, shouldn’t we be trying to stay together?”
“We should. That’s what we’re doing, no?”
True, but it felt good to hear her say so. This was genuine encouragement. Rowing together in the same direction was so much easier than haphazardly flailing their oars. “Are you any closer,” É mile started in, knowing that he had to be careful how he phrased this or he could pitch himself into hot water, “to identifying what the core problem is? For you, I mean?”
Sandra fluffed a pair of pillows and arranged them against the headboard. She then lay back, partially upright with the sheet pulled high up. The air-conditioning cycled on again and, naked, she felt a chill. Reaching around to the back of her neck, she pulled her hair forward to let it fall along her right shoulder. Cinq-Mars noticed that strands of gray he detected previously were no longer visible. She must be tinting. A vacation tint. He propped himself up higher as well.
“It’s everything,” she decided. A single hair strayed over an eye and she inhaled and blew out two big puffs to send it back into place. “You mentioned sex, so okay, put it on the list. But you and I both know that sex is an extension of other things.”
“Including that I’m getting older.”
She looked at him then. They didn’t talk about this usually. “You take pills.”
“And I’m grateful to live in an era when that’s an option. But, also, you know, the libido. It’s diminished. That makes everything different.”
“How so?”
He really hadn’t wanted the conversation to come around to this. Now the matter was on him when she had seemed on the verge of opening up herself. He continued to speak cautiously. “When you remove the need, and, you know, the indiscriminate want, from sex—lust, essentially—the equation is different. You have what’s left, which is pleasure, intimacy, good things
“We’re staying in?” Cinq-Mars asked, now in shadow on the carpet.
“It’s a night town, É mile.” She pulled the bedcovers down. “I’m resting up for the action.” Tongue-in-cheek, perhaps, but serious, too, she grinned.
É mile was just as happy to strip down and crawl into bed himself, ready for a snooze, and yet, after about ten minutes, they turned, and slid a little closer to each other, and that soon evolved into a snuggle. They tried napping in the spoons position but before sleep overtook them they both grew rowdy. Cinq-Mars honestly believed that he had not expected this, and yet he’d made an allowance for the possibility. To be on the safe side he took the time to ingest a Cialis while freshening up in the terminal after disembarking—in anticipation of the weekend, really, not this nap. Soon both were glad for his foresight.
Later they stirred. Somehow it seemed the right time to dip their toes, at least, into their mutual puddle. É mile was the first to wade in.
“We haven’t seen much of this lately.”
“Twice in the past week. I call that a major escalation. Or did you forget about that time at home already?”
“I meant further back than a week.” He seemed petulant to her.
“No one’s to blame, buddy. We’ve been at odds. I threw you for a loop.”
“I’m not too old to have my heart broken, I found that out. I’m not saying it broke, but that’s only because you haven’t left yet. But it cracked some. It’s getting ready to shatter.”
“Oh God. The melodrama! You’re holding up okay. For Pete’s sake, here you are, out fighting crime for the FBI on the blue bayou.”
“Leather-skinned on the outside. It’s all for show.”
She admitted quietly, “Yeah, I know. Mine cracked some just telling you that I might leave. More than I expected, I guess.”
He tilted his head further toward her. “In that case, shouldn’t we be trying to stay together?”
“We should. That’s what we’re doing, no?”
True, but it felt good to hear her say so. This was genuine encouragement. Rowing together in the same direction was so much easier than haphazardly flailing their oars. “Are you any closer,” É mile started in, knowing that he had to be careful how he phrased this or he could pitch himself into hot water, “to identifying what the core problem is? For you, I mean?”
Sandra fluffed a pair of pillows and arranged them against the headboard. She then lay back, partially upright with the sheet pulled high up. The air-conditioning cycled on again and, naked, she felt a chill. Reaching around to the back of her neck, she pulled her hair forward to let it fall along her right shoulder. Cinq-Mars noticed that strands of gray he detected previously were no longer visible. She must be tinting. A vacation tint. He propped himself up higher as well.
“It’s everything,” she decided. A single hair strayed over an eye and she inhaled and blew out two big puffs to send it back into place. “You mentioned sex, so okay, put it on the list. But you and I both know that sex is an extension of other things.”
“Including that I’m getting older.”
She looked at him then. They didn’t talk about this usually. “You take pills.”
“And I’m grateful to live in an era when that’s an option. But, also, you know, the libido. It’s diminished. That makes everything different.”
“How so?”
He really hadn’t wanted the conversation to come around to this. Now the matter was on him when she had seemed on the verge of opening up herself. He continued to speak cautiously. “When you remove the need, and, you know, the indiscriminate want, from sex—lust, essentially—the equation is different. You have what’s left, which is pleasure, intimacy, good things
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