Who I have these happy sexual memories with...The blankets need to go on, then off, then again. The soup will not cook itself, even if some days I hav... to let her chop the onions.Because at the end of the day, when I finish pushing the rock up the hill and watch it fall back down only so that I can start all over again the next day it doesn’t matter that the hill is steep, that the rock is heavy, that I feel so tired…That my hands hurt too much to write like I want…There is someone by my side,. Then I knocked at the guest room’s door.The door opened and Anita entered the living room.All eyes were on her. My sensual wife was dressed entirely in black: high stilettos, long black skirt, slashed to her tiny waist by a shiny, black nylon blouse; a wide leather belt. But most strikingly, was to find she was sporting a white mask. Her curly blonde hair was piled high on her head and she wore a black choker around her neck. She looked breathtaking... She turned slowly around, allowing us to. It seemed to take me forever. I finally managed to grip the strap and unhook it. I released it and then lowered my arms and shrugged out of it.They had ample opportunity last night to see my breasts. Jon had even brushed his fingers over my nipple at one point. Yet here I stood, all but naked before two fully dressed people who were nearly three times my age and I believe that I was much more embarrassed than I had been last night. It occurred to me that last night I had not been entirely. I don’t think she is.” That got a nod. We both knew the woman we were talking about. Impossible to pin down, always surprising: elusive one day, passionate the next. Lucy with her stratagems. The menu arrived. I chose their salad with goat’s cheese and sweet peppers. She chose salmon and pasta. My usual favourite. I considered my situation. My heart went out to this tiny, determined woman. Perhaps it was because my situation was so similar to hers. Perhaps it was because it wasn’t – I was not.