into her lycra shorts on evenings like these had to answer any questions she might have. As her lips touched mine, my hands fell naturally to cup her trim behind.
“Of course I still want you,” I said. “Has there ever been any doubt?”
Ana pulled away from me and wrinkled her nose. “Okay, so how would you feel if I told you it wasn’t a guy who was hitting on me?”
Well, that knocked me out of the ballpark for a moment or two.
“Are you still angry?” she grinned, teasing me.
“That’s different,” I murmured.
“Different how?”
Ana was a professor at our fair college, and her specialist subject was math. In particular, she was big into logic. She’d always enjoyed testing my logic.
“It’s just different when it’s a woman.”
“Says the man who just came back from an equal opportunities conference in Seattle.”
I chuckled, knowing I had to avoid rising to any bait. “I don’t have to have an equal opportunities policy for people hitting on my wife.”
“So it’s okay when women hit on me?”
As she pulled out last night’s leftovers to heat up for my supper, I stopped to think about it. A woman had hit on my wife. I couldn’t help it -- the anger, the jealousy, it had all melted away. If I imagined a woman approaching Ana as she was working out in the gym, fluttering her eyelids at her, making some flattering comments subtle or unsubtle, I simply wasn’t the least bit annoyed. It was totally different to how I’d initially felt when jumping to the conclusion that a man had been coming on to my wife.
“So, you don’t feel jealous?” she said, holding on to the edge of the counter as the microwave hummed loudly beside her, somehow drawing my eyes naturally to the pleasing roundness of her breasts. “You don’t feel threatened when it’s a woman showing interest?”
I shrugged, “I told you. I don’t feel obligated to feel the same way about men and women hitting on my wife.”
But inside, it did bug me a little. It made me curious as to why I should feel so differently. After all, in our state there was nothing stopping my wife from divorcing me to marry another woman. In this day and age I should feel just as threatened by a woman trying to steal Ana away from me as a man. Yet here I was, and it was almost amusing to me that Ana had been propositioned by another woman. That annoyed me a little.
“What did she say to you?”
Ana tilted her head a touch, suddenly self-conscious. “Asked me if I’d like to get coffee some time.”
I laughed. “And you took that as hitting on you?”
“A woman can tell.”
“She’s probably just new in town, needs a few new friends to hang out with.”
“She’s been eyeing me up for days. Weeks, maybe.”
I shrugged, and Ana gave me a quizzical look, which I knew to mean that my reaction provoked some kind of interest or curiosity in her. “You’re really not bothered at all?”
“Why should I be?” I asked. “You’re not interested in her, are you?”
Ana gave me a mischievous grin. “She’s very pretty.”
I rolled my eyes.
*
Once Ana was showered and normal routine resumed up to bed time, the small matter of my wife’s new admirer quietly fell by the roadside. I didn’t even think about it until after her next visit to the gym -- but then the mere sight of her in those tight leggings, and a lycra top that left her toned midriff bare, reminded me almost instantly of the discussion we’d had the last time.
Oh, and then there was the fact that as soon as Ana looked up at me from where she’d been lounging on the couch watching HGTV, she said to me: “She was doing it again.”
Was she testing me? Trying to make me jealous? I had heard that some women do that just to get their men going, push them to show more interest in them. That didn’t seem like Ana. Was she merely trying to taunt me for feeling differently about how men and women interacted with her? I was all about equality, but I
“Of course I still want you,” I said. “Has there ever been any doubt?”
Ana pulled away from me and wrinkled her nose. “Okay, so how would you feel if I told you it wasn’t a guy who was hitting on me?”
Well, that knocked me out of the ballpark for a moment or two.
“Are you still angry?” she grinned, teasing me.
“That’s different,” I murmured.
“Different how?”
Ana was a professor at our fair college, and her specialist subject was math. In particular, she was big into logic. She’d always enjoyed testing my logic.
“It’s just different when it’s a woman.”
“Says the man who just came back from an equal opportunities conference in Seattle.”
I chuckled, knowing I had to avoid rising to any bait. “I don’t have to have an equal opportunities policy for people hitting on my wife.”
“So it’s okay when women hit on me?”
As she pulled out last night’s leftovers to heat up for my supper, I stopped to think about it. A woman had hit on my wife. I couldn’t help it -- the anger, the jealousy, it had all melted away. If I imagined a woman approaching Ana as she was working out in the gym, fluttering her eyelids at her, making some flattering comments subtle or unsubtle, I simply wasn’t the least bit annoyed. It was totally different to how I’d initially felt when jumping to the conclusion that a man had been coming on to my wife.
“So, you don’t feel jealous?” she said, holding on to the edge of the counter as the microwave hummed loudly beside her, somehow drawing my eyes naturally to the pleasing roundness of her breasts. “You don’t feel threatened when it’s a woman showing interest?”
I shrugged, “I told you. I don’t feel obligated to feel the same way about men and women hitting on my wife.”
But inside, it did bug me a little. It made me curious as to why I should feel so differently. After all, in our state there was nothing stopping my wife from divorcing me to marry another woman. In this day and age I should feel just as threatened by a woman trying to steal Ana away from me as a man. Yet here I was, and it was almost amusing to me that Ana had been propositioned by another woman. That annoyed me a little.
“What did she say to you?”
Ana tilted her head a touch, suddenly self-conscious. “Asked me if I’d like to get coffee some time.”
I laughed. “And you took that as hitting on you?”
“A woman can tell.”
“She’s probably just new in town, needs a few new friends to hang out with.”
“She’s been eyeing me up for days. Weeks, maybe.”
I shrugged, and Ana gave me a quizzical look, which I knew to mean that my reaction provoked some kind of interest or curiosity in her. “You’re really not bothered at all?”
“Why should I be?” I asked. “You’re not interested in her, are you?”
Ana gave me a mischievous grin. “She’s very pretty.”
I rolled my eyes.
*
Once Ana was showered and normal routine resumed up to bed time, the small matter of my wife’s new admirer quietly fell by the roadside. I didn’t even think about it until after her next visit to the gym -- but then the mere sight of her in those tight leggings, and a lycra top that left her toned midriff bare, reminded me almost instantly of the discussion we’d had the last time.
Oh, and then there was the fact that as soon as Ana looked up at me from where she’d been lounging on the couch watching HGTV, she said to me: “She was doing it again.”
Was she testing me? Trying to make me jealous? I had heard that some women do that just to get their men going, push them to show more interest in them. That didn’t seem like Ana. Was she merely trying to taunt me for feeling differently about how men and women interacted with her? I was all about equality, but I
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