Remember Me?

“Are you comfortable with me touching your breast?” he murmurs as he starts undoing my bra. “I guess so,” I murmur back. Why is he squeezing me? It's like he's buying fruit. He's going to give me a bruise in a minute.

Anyway. Stop being picky. This is all great. I have a fab husband with a fab body and we're in bed and Ouch. That was my nipple. “I'm sorry,” whispers Eric. “Listen, sweetheart, are you comfortable with me touching your abdomen?”

“Er... I guess!” Why did he ask that? Why would I be comfortable with the breast and not the abdomen? That doesn't make sense. And to be absolutely honest, I don't know if comfortable is the word. This is all a bit surreal. We're moving around and panting and doing it all like in a book, but I don't feel like I'm going anywhere. Eric's breath is hot on my neck. I think it's time for me to do something else. Buttocks, maybe, o r . . . Oh, right. From the way Eric's hands are moving, looks like we're jumping straight to inner thighs. “You're hot,” he's saying, his voice urgent. “Jesus, you're hot. This is so hot.”

I don't believe this! He says hot the whole time too! He should so have sex with Debs. Oh. No. Obviously he shouldn't have sex with Debs. Erase that thought. Suddenly I realize I'm about three steps behind on the whole foreplay thing, not to mention the sex talk. But Eric doesn't even seem to have noticed. “Lexi, sweetheart?” he murmurs breathily, right in my ear. “Yes?” I whisper back, wondering if he's about to say “I love you.” “Are you comfortable with me putting my penis into your” Uurk! Before I can stop myself, I've pushed him off me and rolled away.

Oops. I didn't mean to shove quite so hard. “What's wrong?” Eric sits up in alarm. “Lexi! What happened? Are you okay? Did you have a flashback?” “No.” I bite my lip. “I'm sorry. I just suddenly felt a bit...um...” “I knew it. I knew we were rushing things.” Eric sighs and takes both my hands. “Lexi, talk to me. Why weren't you comfortable? Was it because of some... traumatic memory resurfacing?” Oh God. He looks so earnest. I have to lie. No. I can't lie. Marriages only work if you're totally honest. “It wasn't because of a traumatic memory,” I say at last, carefully looking past him at the duvet. “It was because you said 'penis.'” “Penis?” Eric looks utterly stumped. “What's wrong with penis I 228 ”It's just... you know. Not very sexy. As words go.“ Eric leans back against the headboard, his brow knitted in a frown. ”I find 'penis' sexy,“ he says at last. ”Oh, right!“ I backtrack quickly. ”Well, I mean, obviously it is quite sexy...“ How can he find the word ”penis“ sexy? ”Anyway, it wasn't just that.“ I hastily change the subject. ”It was the way you kept asking me every two seconds if I was comfortable. It made things a bit... formal. Don't you think?“ ”I'm just trying to be considerate,“ says Eric stiffly. ”This is a pretty strange situation for both of us.“ He turns away and starts pulling on his shirt with jerky gestures. ”I know!“ I say quickly. ”And I appreciate it, I really do.“ I put a hand on his shoulder. ”But maybe we can loosen up. Be more... spontaneous?“ Eric's silent for a while, as though weighing up what I've said. ”So... should I sleep here tonight?“ he says at last. ”Oh!" In spite of myself I recoil. What's wrong with me? Eric's my husband. A moment ago I was all for having sex with him. But still, the idea of him sleeping here with me all night seems... too intimate. “Maybe we could leave it a while. I'm sorry, it's just...” “Fine. I understand.” Without meeting my eye he gets up. “I think I'll take a shower.”

“Okay.” Left alone, I slump back on the pillows. Great. I didn't have sex. I didn't remember anything. My mission totally failed. I find “penis” sexy. I give a sudden gurgle and clap my hand over my mouth in case he can hear me. Beside the bed the phone starts ringing, but at first I don't moveit's bound to be for Eric. Then I realize he must be in the shower. I reach over and pick up the state-?of-?the-?art Bang & Olufsen receiver. “Hello?” “Hi,” comes a dry, familiar voice. “It's Jon.” “Jon?” I feel a white-?hot thrill. Eric's nowhere in sight, but even so, I dart into the adjoining bathroom with the phone, then shut the door and lock it. “Are you crazy?” I hiss in lowered, furious tones. “What are you ringing here for? It's so risky! What if Eric picked up?” “I was expecting Eric to pick up.” Jon sounds a bit baffled. “I need to speak with him.” “Oh.” I halt in sudden realization. I'm so stupid. “Oh... right.” Trying to remedy the situation, I put on a formal, wifely voice. “Of course, Jon. I'll just fetch him” Jon cuts me off. “But I need to speak with you more. We have to meet. We have to talk.” “We can't! You have to stop this. This whole... talking thing. On the phone. And also not on the phone.” “Lexi, are you drunk?” says Jon. “No.” I survey my bloodshot reflection. “Okay... maybe a tad.” There's a snuffling sound at the end of the phone. Is he laughing? “I love you,” he says. “You don't know me.” “I love the girl... you were. You are.”