Chapter Five
Then
“Last night was pretty interesting, don’t you think?” I asked him.
It was the Sunday morning following what had been, in different ways for both of us, a night of revelations, the girls were still with my parents and he was seated at the breakfast-bar with his Daily Telegraph and a tea as I joined him with a cappuccino I’d made for myself and mail I’d just collected from the mat.
Those “revelations” I speak of not to his liking in the cold light of morning if the redness of his face spoke true.
The silence with which he greeted my question emphasised his discomfort and I knew that if I wanted to get this particular ball rolling I would need to ease him into it.
For a while, anyway.
“Strange how a little bit of fantasy play can make things… well… hotter,” I began as
