Part of it was that she had got very much into cleaning the house. Part of it was the feeling that he was, in some way, there with her as she worked. ...artly, perhaps, she didn't want to see that remarkable, proud and strong-willed man reduced to total dependence. Along with all those she had an underlying feeling of being unworthy of his friendship. So she dusted and wiped and swept and vacuumed, even wiping down the woodwork. It may have been imagination, but she felt he knew and approved of. By not having to suppress our feelings, we'd actually become a much better couple, because we could truly tell each other ANYTHING. From the mild to the wild, we were free to have as much fun as we wanted as long as we did it together or not at all.His jaw dropped, he couldn't believe what he was hearing.He asked what it felt like to watch his wife with another woman, and asked what it was like for me to be with another man?I told him to think about the wildest fantasies she'd ever shared with. ‘Where are we?’ ‘It’s called Red Horse Inn,’ Angelo supplied. ‘The main building is down through there. Gabe got you a private cottage.’ She walked up the steps to the cottage as if in a trance. The entire interior was in shades of white, cream, and soft grey. There was a sitting area, which consisted of two wing chairs set before a fireplace. Toward the back corner of the room was a king-sized canopied bed, draped in gauzy white curtains. The sunlight poured in through the large windows that. It was a fine day; it was going to be a hot one, as Charles rode into the classic bike enclosure and parked next to a Harley. He was followed by a beautifully restored Scott 'Squirrel'. The rider removed her helmet and smiled at him."Now then, Charlie, where's Laura?" She was a perfect complement to the bike, petite, and auburn haired."Did you not know? She ... died ... March, last year."Her face fell. "Oh, Charlie ... I'm so sorry. I wondered why we hadn't seen either of you around. Is this.