Chapter 4

Anne wouldn't let me go into work on Monday, not that I was desperate to do so. The headache was fading, but still present. She made me promise to lay off the caffeine until the headache was completely gone, pointing to her boxes of Rooibos and herbal teas and reminding me of the boxes and boxes of orange juice in the fridge.

"It's a nice day, you could have a gentle walk in the park," she commented, "I'll let the boss know you're off sick."

That seemed a good idea. I strolled the four miles of so to Forge Dam, which would normally take me an hour, arriving at midday, had some lunch (manfully resisting the temptation of their coffee, which is amazingly good) and strolled back in time to cook tea.

I had enjoyed the day, but when Anne walked through the door ... what can I say? That it was like the sun coming out from behind a cloud? Or dropping a heavy rucksack after a long hike? I held my arms wide and she walked into them and snuggled close. Nothing else mattered; I wanted this woman in my life forever.

I don't know why folks get so worried about natural smells. OK there are some unpleasant ones, but our normal skin secretions are designed to attract the opposite sex. Holding Anne, I could smell her hair; faintly coconut from her shampoo, but mostly woman. I breathed in, deeply.

"You smell wonderful," I whispered.

She wriggled in my arms, and her arms tightened around me.

"So do you..."

"Food about twenty minutes after I start the Pasta," I said.

She giggled, "I should be grateful I get a higher priority than food!"

I frowned, as if in thought, "I guess that would depend how hungry I got..."

She stifled another giggle, "you're treading a dangerous path, mister!"

I released her, tilted her face up to look at me... "I know; and so are you," I remarked seriously, and kissed her gently. "Go, kick your shoes off and relax; I'll get the pasta cooking, and bring a glass of wine in to you."

"Sounds like a plan," she agreed.

I don't know whether what I cooked would properly be called bolognese, but it tasted pretty good.

Anne agreed; "You're a good cook, lover."

"Do you think you'll stick around, then?"

"Sure," she smiled, "for a week or so, anyway!"

"Actually, I was thinking rather longer term than that ... Anne, will ... would you consider marrying me?"

She met my eyes, I waited for an eternity before she spoke.

"I'll consider it, certainly. Ask me again tomorrow evening."

What? What sort of answer is that? Mind you, what sort of question was it in the first place!

My headache was quite gone, but now I was on tenterhooks over what she would say. When we climbed into bed that night, though, she was affectionate, and we made love; slowly, sweetly but intensely.

I woke in the morning with her lips on mine, her breasts rubbing against my chest, my erection between her legs. She reached down, put me in position, and pushed down onto me; looking me in the eyes all the times, she began to move on me. When we came, together as almost always, she held me in position, still holding my gaze. I felt as though she was looking into my soul; perhaps she was.

"I haven't forgotten your question," she said. "I want you to stay home today, OK? And you'll get an answer if you ask me again this evening.".

Once she'd left for work, I settled down to catch up on some personal admin stuff, accounts, correspondence, that sort of thing. I cleared my email inbox, checked out some websites I kept an eye on; but by the time I'd had lunch I was getting quite bored. I can waste quite a lot of time playing solitaire on the computer, it takes a lot before I'll match wits with the computer at chess, but I was reduced to that by three in the afternoon. Then the door-bell rang.

I ran downstairs, opened the door, and was astonished to see Julie standing there.

"Can I come in?"

I didn't know what to do; my mind was a blank. Social convention kicked in and almost automatically I said,

"Er, yes, I suppose so." I stepped back and shut the door behind her. "Get you a drink?"

"You do a pretty good Latte, if I remember rightly," she smiled.

"OK, one Latte coming up."

We chatted about inconsequentials for over an hour; I was quite enjoying it, catching up on people we'd known when we'd been together, who then stuck with one or other of us... 'Bill, oh yes, still with Marje... ' 'Amy? She left town and moved to Glasgow of all places. We keep in touch.' but then,

"Have you thought any more about giving me another chance?"

"Sorry, Julie; no. I told you weeks ago, I'm with Anne, and I want to be with Anne."

"What is it with you? What is it about your mousy little girlfriend that's better than me?"

I laughed. I'm sorry, I know I shouldn't have, but I laughed. The idea of Anne, fit, competent and desirable, as 'mousy' (or, for that matter, little — she was no shorter than Julie, and I'd be surprised if she wasn't heavier, if only because of her muscle).

Julie's face tightened.

"I'm sorry, Julie, I couldn't help laughing. Anne may be quiet, but in no way is she mousy. The point is, whatever you may think of her looks, I love her. She's my soulmate. We fit together." Saying it, brought home to me the truth of it. Anne was my soulmate; I just hadn't thought about it like that before.