She was wearing this delicious red dress. Her hair loose and her skin so fresh and creamy, I wanted to bury my face in her cleavage. When she smiled it was a bright flash of blood red, on others it might look tarty or garish, not on her face, not with that smile.

My wife. Entertaining and mingling and socialising. And as I watch I'm wondering just where I fit into all this. It's never been my scene, all this political wrangling, too much ass-kissing and subsequent back stabbing. Yet she loves it all, even now, months after we've moved from the core of it, no more White House position or government agent. A retired couple, fairly young I guess to be retired, but still I'm enjoying it.

I move away from the gaggle of pink polished females tramping over the grass in my direction and hide beneath a tree from the harsh LA sunshine. We've been spending the majority of our time in Vermont. Karen, surprisingly, has become quite the gardener. Though you wouldn't think it to see her now, the expensive dress, the heels, the fresh manicure.

I want to drag her beneath this tree and take her up against it.

I wonder once again how I ended up being dragged to this. We visit LA rarely enough as it is now, and it just so happened that this political shindig in some grand house with ever flowing Champagne would coincide with Karen's sister's birthday.

That I don't mind. I can cope with family, even her brother who seems intent on putting her accomplishments in the White House down. I'd like to ram his napkin down his throat when he starts. He doesn't know what she went through, what we both did.

I thought I'd lost her after two months apart.

She almost lost me in the space of a two minute phone call.

Funny thing, love, and forgiveness.

She approaches me with a knowing smile, a half smile, some smug expression, turning her wine glass delicately between her fingers.

"Hi," she whispers as she reaches me, turning so her shoulder brushes mine and facing the grounds, the crowds.

"Hi, having fun?"

"I am, you're not." She nudges my elbow.

I shrug, "What can I say; I don't fit this mould anymore, if I ever did."

"I know. Want to leave?"

"Not yet, you're revelling in it, just don't be tempted back in."

"As if, I have roses to prune."

"Life's important aspects." I twist my head to look at her and she nods smiling.

"I'm having naughty thoughts," I say looking down her body, then back up to the swell of her breasts.

"Oh?" she smirks, "What kind?"

"You, in that dress, up against this tree."

She giggles now, then takes a sip of her wine. "My dress would be ruined against the bark, and it's new."

"I know, I was there when you chose it."

"That's marriage you know, having to shop with your wife."

"Strangely, I'm rather enjoying those expeditions."

"The underwear section holds your attention right?"

Now I laugh, "Something like that."

For a while we're quiet, watching the guests chatter on and fight for the attention of the dignitaries. The sun is setting and a bell is rung for the meal. I move a little, reacting and trying to wake myself up.

She reaches down and holds my hand, folding her fingers with mine.

"We should rush," I say, "don't want to end up next to the dull ones."

"Yes." She breathes slowly, I feel my heartbeat increase. "Maybe at home, we have trees. I'll wear an older dress."

And she lets go of my hand and steps out onto the shadowed lawn, "come on, I want you sat next to me during dinner."

Being retired and living in the middle of nowhere has its advantages.

At home, our LA home, I'm flaked out on the couch, jacket over the back of a chair, shirt loosened and my tie in one hand – I stare at it, Karen chose it, tying it up into little knots then pulling them undone again. The dog is by my feet watching then he hears a door close upstairs and jumps up, dashing forward to beat Karen into the kitchen.

"How comfy the old man looks."

"I am slightly drunk I feel, afternoon drinking has never suited me."

She's still wearing the dress but without shoes and I watch as she moves about the room, transfixed by the light sweep of material over her hips as she bends to drop a paper onto the coffee table. Barefoot. Red toenails.

"We might have to suffer dinner tomorrow night, I think I fell into a trap."

"You should know better."

"Hmm," she somehow climbs on top of my legs, curling her feet beneath her, "but then we have to socialise some of the time. We can't hide away for the rest of our lives."

"I do socialise."

"Chatting with the local dog walkers isn't really…" but she laughs before she finishes the sentence.

"Come here," I whisper, still playing with the tie.

"Are you planning on tying me up with that?"

"No… not yet…" But she's already slinking down, her head close to my stomach; she kisses my chest and nibbles on my chin.

I groan at her touch, at the feel of her body, the warmth, pressed tight against mine.

"Are you happy?" She whispers against my mouth.

I'm slightly caught off guard by the question.

"Aren't you?" I say impatiently, pulling her back a little, my hands firm on her shoulders.

"Of course," she smiles stroking my hair. But then she gets that look in her eyes, the one that makes my chest tighten. "I've never been happier, I didn't think I'd fit the 'wife' role."

"You don't," I squeeze her ass. "You fit the Karen role."

"That sounds ominous! Thank you very much."

"Ah, I was just about to say that I love the 'Karen role' very much."

"Oh," she snuggles against me, her legs between mine on the couch and Hawk on the floor waiting for some attention. "Well, I love you too, that's what I was saying wasn't I, very much." She pauses and looks at me earnestly, "more than I ever thought I could."

I hold her tighter, and smile, at times like this I struggle to know what to say for the best.

"But there's something missing?" I finally ask, running my hand down the back of her leg and inching up the dress.

"Perhaps," she shakes her head. "I'm not sure. I mean," she looks at Hawk, "I knew it would be hard at first, such a drastic change to our lives. And I'm not saying I hate it, because I don't." She looks at me again. "You know that right."

I nod, "But you're a whirlwind of emotions and contradictions. You want to come back here? Has that what this weekend has shown you?"

"Not entirely." She strokes my cheek again with her fingernail, delicately, across my lips and down to my chin. "Bill."

"Karen." I tease and she smiles again.

"I don't want you to feel that you have to move for me, or that I'm upsetting things by suggesting this."

"I'm not entirely sure what it is that you are suggesting! Come back to LA? Try and get back into work?"

"Maybe, I need something." She's suddenly intensely serious. "Bill, I love you, and I love Vermont and I've loved the past two months living out there just being us and relaxing, actually falling into what it is to be married and live together."

"Wow, can you imagine that? Married couples living together!"

"Stop it," but she grins and dips her head down, covering her smile. "But I feel like we've been on an extended holiday, and its time for it to end now. I want to come back to civilisation!"

"We've hardly been hunting our food."

She frowns, "So you don't want to leave it?"

"I didn't say that." I sigh, "You're right, it is time to come back, I'm not sure LA is it though. Too much has happened here. Too much has changed. And I don't want to sell the house in Vermont."

"God forbid, no! I love that house, I want to have Christmas there and get lost in the snow."

"And Hawk would never forgive us if we sold it."

"No, he wouldn't." I agree looking at the brown Labrador give in and settle down on the rug in front of the fireplace. "So, lets go some place else. Washington, you have connections there, an apartment we can live in until we find something more permanent."

Her smile is broad and her eyes sparkle, "How do you do that?" She pushes her breasts against my chest. "Read my mind and make everything so easy for me? I was worried."

"Ahh, but then I'm a Buchanan and we're always right."

"Well, so am I now." She kisses me gently, "I won't be changing my name back neither, when we move to Washington."

"I should hope not, I like having you as the official Mrs Buchanan."

"Does that mean there are women out there who are 'unofficial Mrs Buchanans?"

I only raise my eyebrows and then pull her to me for a kiss. A proper one this time. Until she moans into my mouth and I feel her body move on top of mine. My fingers stroke her bare leg and the contrast of her hot skin and the silk of the material rubbing against the back of my hand is divine.

"I want you all the time," she whispers and I wonder if that's true or if she's being exceedingly nice to me because of the easiness of yet another change to our lives.

I take the initiative though and ease my hand up between her legs and she jerks against me, her hands splaying out on my shoulders and her body rising up a little at my touch.

"Her mouth slips from mine and she trails kisses down my neck, along my collarbone as she pushes my shirt aside, "I love you," she repeats and I'm already half way there, falling into the eternal bliss and rapture that is my wife. Her hand slides down my body and my blood pulses in my ears as I know where she's heading, eagerly flipping open the buttons of my trousers to slip her hand inside and,

"Ahh!" I gasp like some god damn randy teenager. "God Karen."

She giggles, moving her mouth back to mine, "Thinking of the tree, and this dress?" She breathes, "Or was it public displays that did it for you?"

"Hardly," I moan opening my eyes and running my hands back up her body, "I want you all to myself."

"Good." She lifts herself up and I gasp again as her hand works its magic; making love when you're older is so different to when you're young. Everything is rushed and impatient, I know I was, with her I take my time and relish each and every second of it. She's like ripe sweet strawberries and fresh cream mellowed in a summer's day and sweeping over me, my fingers draw down the straps of her dress and I can't help but feel blessed, not only a red dress but matching underwear. I take her breast through the material of her bra, teasing her nipple with my mouth until she's sitting back on me rolling her hips and I'm leaning forward hungrily tasting her skin.

We're both lost, I can hear her voice saying my name, and those wonderful sounds she makes, urging me on and wrapping me in her joy.

I'm startled when she slides her hand into my hair and sits forward, ending the rhythm of our rocking.

"What's wrong?" I'm open mouthed staring up at her.

She slips from my lap, trembling a little as she stands, and I watch in wonder as half dressed she creeps to the window and presses the switch to close the blinds. Those legs, the slink of her hips, I almost fall off the sofa as I turn to watch every movement.

"Karen?" My voice is husky.

"I'm not going anywhere," she returns to the sofa again and I hold my arms out for her ready to slip back in, but she stops and lifts her dress up and over her head dropping it to the floor. "That was expensive." She says matter-of-factly.

I grin, "Ever the pragmatist. Come here," I beckon, suddenly sensing a hormone-driven impatience. "I'm old you know, I might not last long."

"Oh you do," she's happy, I can feel it, "you wait, every single time." I don't respond, I know what she means. I lie there as she removes my shirt and slides her hands over my chest, we've been jogging in the country, keeping fit, I'm glad of the stamina at moments like this.

"So beautiful," I whisper without thought as my fingers stroke her hip, waiting.

She tugs my belt off and drops it to the floor, lifting herself back up on top of me, "So are you."

The way she kisses is like, how can I describe it? Like everything rolled into one, like being given life, like when you reach the top of the highest rollercoaster and you're just waiting to tip over the edge and that glorious feeling in your stomach, like the best present you've ever received, or when you first tasted fine wine or took a plane ride. Excitement and anxiety and want and need and fresh new feelings that she always brings in me each and every time.

I don't even notice her hand pushing my briefs aside, I'm so caught up in the kissing, and scent of her, and the feel of her hair as my fingers get lost in it. I'd never dated blondes before, always preferred brunettes. But Karen… that smile. That body. I could write sonnets about her curves.

I gasp again as she takes hold of my erection, she's never been shy about sex, she knows what she wants and what she likes and I love that about her too. That she can be so confident sexually and yet somehow, as our relationship has grown, I've seen her change and become loving, open and giving and actually making love to me.

It's like being set free.

"Oh Bill," her voice suddenly fills me as the heat of our bodies joining hits her, "Bill, Bill, Bill…"

I hold onto her hips as she sits back and slowly, so slowly and tantalizing, rolls against me. Her head tips back but I keep my eyes on her, the length of her creamy white neck, down to the swell of her breasts and the contrast of the deep red of her bra.

My eyes close involuntarily, I feel myself collapse inside, and the air in my lungs sucked out as she overtakes me. "Love me…"

Her body slides forward and her arms fall either side of my head driving me deeper inside of her, "I do." Her mouth covers mine and how I wish time could freeze right now and let me wallow in this moment forever.

"You've made me soft."

She's lying in her side leaning to the coffee table for her drink, and I'm squashed in behind her unhooking her bra. Pointless after the act but still… I want to cuddle against her and feel her skin next to mine. I throw it over her head to puddle with her dress.

"You'll have to explain that to me," I chuckle kissing her shoulder as she comes to lie down beside me again, pulling a blanket over us.

"Sentimental, gushy over things like other women's babies and adverts on television where they use cute kittens. I've never been the type of woman who fell for all that stuff." She flops onto her back looking up at me. "Funny what love does to you."

"Hmm," I trace a line down from her chin, down her neck and between her breasts. "Love or the menopause."

She grabs my finger tightly, "Ah, how dare you! I'm not that old!"

But she's laughing along with me as I kiss her neck and along her collarbone and her fingers are tangling in my hair.

"Bill, do you ever wonder…"

I hate it when she asks things like that.

"…what it would have been like had we met when we were younger."

"Mmm, tiring." I mumble against her skin.

"I wonder if we'd have got on, you might have hated me, I was so ballsy, like the iron lady. We might have had children."

"I like how those two thoughts go together," I can't help but chuckle as I look at her, laid there all flushed and bright eyed, hair spread over the cushions. "On the one hand, cold and ballsy. On the other – we might have had babies."

"I said children." She tugs on my shoulders until I lie above her. "And we might have, had I been brave enough to face a) pregnancy and b) motherhood. I was too selfish. AM too selfish."

"I wouldn't say that."

"I would, I know me. Not as much so now, still it might have been different, I might have been, with you." She shrugs. "Never even got the offer for the White House because I'd been at home raising your babies."

"Babies now," I kiss her forehead, "not children."

"Whichever you like."

"I might have been a house husband, I could have managed that. Cooking, playing with the kids, doing the school run. Easy life."

"And so putting down a million housewives world wide."

"That's hardly what I meant, I meant compared to what I have done."

"Ohh like saving the country and flying around like an idiot in helicopters."

"An idiot? Hold on!"

"No, you hold on, you aren't James Bond."

"I could be the American version."

"You're too old, and you're never to set foot inside a helicopter and take on any dangerous escapades ever again."

"Yes mother."

She doesn't like that, she pouts, I like that.

"Pretty," I say tracing the outline of her lips.

"Sweet talker." She pinches my ass.

"Hey, that's mine."

"Mine actually," and she lifts her head up to kiss me.

I move behind her again, resting my head on her shoulder and holding her tight against me.

"Afternoon drinking followed by sex and I'm ready for a nap."

"Me too, that's another wonderful thing which comes with age."

"You have years on me," she whispers squeezing my hand.

I kiss the back of her neck, "not too many, besides you love me because of it."

"I love everything about you."

"I love you too."

And before I can even lean over to kiss her again she's asleep; Hawk lifts his head up to stare at me then flops back down again, stretching in the late afternoon sunshine.

I feel the same. Completely happy. Completely and utterly at ease.

I hope a year from now I feel the same, when she goes back to work, if she does. I bet she will. Maybe I will too. I'm half asleep. Washington again, all the problems that place bought.

She moans and wiggles back against me, warm and soft, and my eyes cast over her face, catching a flash of the red dress lying on the floor. The delicious red dress. Worth every penny.