( Author's Note: Corrections, suggestions, comments - all good. )

He brought a draft of cold air into the house as he pushed the side door open with his hip. His hands were filled with purple folders and dangerously loose white papers.

He had snowflakes in his hair and eyelashes. Julie, leaning on the door frame between the mudroom and the kitchen, watched her husband attempt the triple feat of holding on to his papers, slipping off his slick leather work shoes, and winking at her.

"Having fun?" she asked, her lips curving into a smile. Her voice was smooth and golden.

"Can't you tell?" Wilson shook his right foot free from its shoe.

Julie laughed and turned from the frame, walking into the dim light of their kitchen. Wilson followed, slipping the key ring from his finger onto the key wrack and dropping the files on a small wooden table next to the door. He slid toward his wife, arms wrapping around her waist, chin tucked against the back of her neck, his breath warm and gentle on the shell of her ear. He squeezed lightly, nestling his face into the nook of her shoulder. Small beads of melted snow fell from his lashes and ran across the silken skin of Julie's neck. She closed her eyes and rested her head against his, her hands raising to rest on top of his, caressing both her husband and herself.

"James," she said softly. "James."

He pressed his lips against the back of her jaw. The nape of her neck. The top buttons of her spine. He slipped his hands from around her waist and brought them to her back, under the thick fabric of her sweater, up the flesh of her back. Julie sighed, leaning against his smooth, steady hands. He pressed kissed on the base of her neck, the back of her ears, to her jaw once more, her hair, her temple. And his hands slid to her stomach which shivered in delicious ripples against his touch. He pulled her against him, inhaling her scent, relishing the feel of her warm body rubbing against his erection. Julie laughed, twisted in his arms to bring her cheek to his.

"James," she whispered into his ear.

Wilson tilted his head and kissed the full slopes of Julie's lips.

"Julie," he sighed against her cheek.

From the kitchen table the Wilson cordless phone rang.

The Mr. And Mrs. Wilson paused. The Wilson cordless phone rang.


James found her sitting at the head of the dining room table, elbows pressed against the polished wood, caressing an orange coffee cup with one hand and massaging her temple with the other.

"Hey," James said. He said, "Come to bed. I'm done with work for the night."

Julie drew her fingertips across the glass of her cup, up and down and then in circles of increasing radii. She bit at the corner of her mouth.