He’d shown up with a combination of Old Spice and Jack Daniels Old Number 7 emanating from his pores and breath, respectively.

“Mr. Grant.”

She wanted to admonish him, but, in her defense, did not.

“Come in.”

“What’s for dinner, Mary?”

He wanted to embrace her, but, backed away at the last. She wanted to embrace him, but, backed away at the last.

“The return of Veal Prince Orloff. You’ll finally have your fill, Mr. Grant.”

Their laughter stilted and brief.

There was a gleam in his eyes she’d not seen before.

“You look really nice tonight, Mary.”

“Thank you, Mr. Grant. I haven’t seen you favor that turtle neck in quite a while.”

“I’m glad you remember it. I knew you liked it.”

Mary didn’t like it, but, she loved him.

Their friends had marked this attempt at a date as a mistake, a failure. But, they knew better.

Sitting side-by-side as his Edie-no-more had wed for the second time seared their relationship, had reignited a fire that had come dangerously close to dying out.

“Did I stand it, Mary?”

He had challenged Mary in the breathless silence of exchanged vows and the certainty of an official’s sanctioning.

“Yes, Mr. Grant, you stood it.”

The tears streaming down her face in the aftermath of total end.

He wanted to hit somebody, but, corralled his rage.

She wanted to hold him with all her might, to shade his eyes against her chest.

Both had watched in abject horror.

The meal was good, but, neither could nor would remember it. Conversation drew to the television station even though both knew that was “against the rules.”

“Dessert, Mr. Grant?” Mary had made chocolate pudding, cooked. She’d finished clearing the table as he’d taken anchor.

“No.”

He’d only been in her bedroom once before; to rally Ted as his wedding grew imminent.

He caught sight of her as she slid out the bathroom door, the light catching her in a direct flash. She was naked, white and gleaming, then just a shadow as Mary cut the light. She crossed quickly to the bedside and slid beneath the sheets and quilts.

“Hurry, Mr. Grant.”

“Mary.”

“Yes.”

She watched. It was not easy to extricate himself from that infernal turtle neck, but, he managed and was at once ready.

His mount was quick as if they’d coupled before. She gave him room, her long legs opening to allow him to come close. The scent of the Old Spice wafted thru reminding her of her father.

“You’re so warm.” Him.

“I want to be warm for you. And ready.” Her.

He felt his essence begin to elevate, even threaten expulsion.

“Uh, oh.” To himself.

He couldn’t remember the last time he’d had relations with anyone beside himself. He managed to calm the roil, but, the dam would not hold for long.

“I’ve wanted you to kiss me for so long, Lo ... Mr. Grant.” As incongruent as “Mr. Grant” seemed, “Lou” would never be ventured again.

Her lips were as soft as he’d imagined in boundless reflections thru their years together. It did not occur to either to part their lips. This, this was enough.

“I don’t want to wait. I’ve waited long enough.” Her.

She managed to wiggle down a portion and raised her center to greet him.

“Mary.”

“It’s okay, darling.”

“Mary.”

“Yes, baby. Do it.”

“You’re so wet.” Him.

“I want to be wet, only for you.” Her.

The urge to bury his face in the pillow as he had with Edie their entire marriage was no longer there. His movement slowed to a crawl as their eyes locked.

She saw the alarm register in those eyes as his body would no longer brook it’s holdings.

“Yes, Mr. Grant, I’m yours now, darling. It’s okay, you can give me what is yours. I want it.”

He stayed where he was, their breathing slowed and returned to normal, their eyes watching the other’s. He kissed her eyes closed, then kissed her forehead.

“What will they say at the station, Mary? They were so wrong.”

“I don’t care about them, Mr. Grant. I’ll tell you what though.”

“What?”

“It’s my turn to be on top.”

There would be no more dates, no.

There would be a courtship.

There would be concurrent proposals.

“They’d walk the walk, vow the vows and make the start.”