Everyone thinks that I only enjoy the classics; classic books, classical music, classic food; but there is so much more in life than those. I know that. My entire life is not based on the classics. I just choose not to share much of myself with other people. It's not that I don't want to because I do. I yearn for a close relationship or two. But the one person I was close too died. Not by his choosing obviously but still he died. It took me many years to come to terms with that and as I did, I realized that those of us left behind really didn't matter much to the other. Don't get me wrong, I love my mother. She gave birth to me, nursed me when I was ill, made sure I had everything I could possibly need and more but she also tried to make me into her idea of the perfect little girl. Ballet lessons, piano lessons, etiquette lessons, waltz lessons; any lesson you can think of, she pushed it on me. My father was different; he let me be me. Taught me to play chess, how to ride my first bike, what the difference between classic Roman literature and classic Greek literature was, and before he died when I was eleven, he taught me the proper way of making sure a boy never does anything I don't want him too...knee first. Of course, I seemed to have forgotten that lesson lately.

But I regress. My life is not only about classics. We all have a guilty pleasure or two. Things we don't necessarily talk about with other people in our lives. Maybe eventually we share that pleasure with the person we fall in love with but for the most part, it stays private. And I; like other people; have a guilty pleasure or two. There's the small ones; like coming home after a long day at work, kicking off my shoes and just walking around barefoot. Small thing I know but when a long day at work could mean four days for me, kicking off my shoes and walking barefoot is a bit thing. Or climbing out of bed at 11 at night, wandering down to the kitchen in my pajamas and eating pistachio gelato from the container because the urge overcomes me. It's not like I have to worry about sharing it with anyone!

I think my biggest guilty pleasure though is food. Not just eating it mind you, but making it as well. There's something to be said about sitting down with a cook book and pouring over the pages looking for that one recipe that jumps out at you to try. Will it be something adventurous or an old classic that warms you from the inside? Then there's the getting the ingredients. Going to the market and picking out the fresh vegetables; the peppers, the onions, the tomatoes and whatever else you need; standing at the meat counter and finding the perfect piece of meat, slipping down the dairy isle for some cheese or milk or cream. And the people in the market. You know there are always some interesting people there. The man feeling up the melons, the woman dipping her finger into the salads, the older lady pinching the bums of the shelving men.

But the real fun begins when you get home and slip into something more comfortable than your shopping clothes. For me, it's a pair of loose black jogging bottoms, an old gray t-shirt from Oxford, and warm, comfy white socks. Everyone is different though so whatever. Then it's back to the kitchen to slip in a CD; something relaxing without any surprising moments as I wouldn't want to lose a finger. As the music starts to fill the air, I can get all my things together or as the American Chef Anne Burrell my Mise en place. Pots, pans, knifes, cutting boards, measuring cups, bowls, spoons and anything else I can think of plus all my ingredients. Once I have everything together the real prep begins. The washing and peeling of vegetables, the slicing and dicing that follows. Browning the meat, mixing together spices, slowly stirring something as it simmers on the stove; heating up slowly to bring out the intense flavors that just explode in your mouth.

Ruth paused; pen over paper as she heard the slight cough from the door. Glancing up, she blushed as she saw Harry leaning against his kitchen door frame.

"You okay there Ruth?" he asked, moving slowly into the room.

"Yyyees. Why wouldn't I be?

"Well, you had this weird look on your face as you bent over that paper."

"Look?" she asked, sliding her hands up and over the paper.

"Hmm." Standing behind her, he leaned over her shoulder and tried to read her writing. "One that looked like a mix between pure...bliss and something else."

Blushing, she quickly folded the paper before looking up at him. "It's nothing. Just jotting down some ideas."

Stepping to the counter, he picked up a glass and filled it with water. Turning, he leaned back against the counter and watched her. "For what?"

"Nothing important." Pushing the chair back, she stood. "I do think I'm going to pop over to that Internet Cafe on the next street though. Things to do."

Frowning, Harry took a sip of the water and watched her. "Why? You have a laptop in the other room that's connected to my wireless. And if there's a problem with that, there's always mine. You know you can use it without asking."

"I know. Just...don't want to use our laptops, that's all." Sliding the chair in, she moved to leave the kitchen.

"Please tell me you're not doing something that could constitute treason?"

Whipping around, she looked at him. "What?"

Pushing from the counter, he moved towards here. "Well, what am I supposed to think. You're sitting here writing something on a piece of paper that you folded and twisted into tiny pieces to ensure I can't get near it. Now you're slipping off to an Internet Cafe to do some odd thing when we both have perfectly good laptops sitting in this house with a perfectly good Internet connection and it's started to sleet outside."

Looking over his shoulder to the window, she saw he was correct. Sighing, she met his eyes again, knowing he'd keep pushing until she told him or start snooping if she didn't. Walking back to the table, she pulled out a chair and sat down; waiting as he did the same.

"I've been...writing."

"Writing?" he asked, trying to keep his face neutral; not wanting to let on that he knew.

"Yes, writing." With a sigh, she looked up at him, and continued. "A few months ago, a friend from Uni suggested I join a writing site. She's been pestering me for years to write something to be published but I've not wanted too. It seemed like too much of an invasion into my thoughts and life plus doing what we do, it could be dangerous. Addison; my friend; suggested creating a pseudo personality to do some writing on this one site. She's in publishing and it's something that they apparently do all the time. I thought she was crazy at first but when I started thinking about it...well, it sounded like fun. So I did it. Sat down one weekend, created an entire legend for the website and started writing. That's why I've been visiting Internet Cafes the past few months; I didn't want anyone to know." Blushing, she looked down at her hands, waiting for ... what she didn't know.

Harry smiled, pleased that she had shared this with him. Reaching across the table, he lightly laid his hand against hers. "May I read what you've written?"

Blushing harder, she lifted her face and met his eyes. "No!"

Smile faltering a little, Harry nodded. "Of course. I'm sorry for asking."

Sensing his disappointment, she put her other hand over his. "It's not that I...it's...I mean it's personal and I'm not ready for anyone else to know. I never planned on anyone I know knowing about it."

"Ruth it's alright really. I shouldn't have asked." Squeezing her hand, he let go and stood. "I should probably take Scarlett out for a walk before it gets too bad out there."

As he moved towards the door, she stood and turned to him, a feeling she couldn't describe settling over her heart. "Harry." she called softly.

He paused and turned back. "Yes Ruth?"

"Maybe one day."

"Of course."

Feeling guilty as he made his way down the hall, she sighed and sat back in the chair. Something had changed with them over the past few weeks. She couldn't describe it but it had. Even with everything going on and the mess she'd made of her relationship with Peter, something had changed. And while it scared her to think about, it was a good change. As she sat there contemplating, her cell phone rang. Reaching for it, she absentmindedly flipped it open.

"Hello?"

"Hello Ruth."

Tensing, she sat up. "Peter?" she asked hesitantly, all thoughts of harry and their changing relationship slipping from her mind.

"Miss me darling?"

"Wh..what do you want?"

"To talk. You've been avoiding me; not answering my calls, never home when I stop by and you've not been to the Internet Cafe in weeks. I'm disappointed in you."

"I told you, it's over."

"Oh no Ruth. It's not over until I tell you it's over."

"I'm sorry Peter but I can't do this anymore. Please don't call me again."

Hanging up the phone, she set it on the table and tried to calm her shaking hands. As it rang again, she stared at it willing it with all her might to stop. It did for a moment before it started to ring again. And she ignored it again. After the fifth time the phone rang and stopped; rang and stopped, Ruth finally picked it up.

"Hh..hello?"

"That wasn't very nice of you Ruth."

"Please leave me alone."

"No!" a chill went down her spine as she heard the anger in his voice. "I will not leave you alone. You do not tell me what to do. You are not in charge of this relationship - I am. Now, I let you have your little fantasy about how fast it was going to move but that's over. You will be at my house. Tonight. 7 PM."

Hearing the door shut in the distance, she shook slightly, the phone clutched in her hand. "No Peter. I told you, we're done."

"You're not understanding me Ruth. I tell you what's going to happen, I tell you how things are going to be. And you do what I say. Now firstly, you are going to leave that old man's house. I don't appreciate you staying there these past few weeks. Completely inappropriate."

"What are you talking about?"

"Really Ruth, don't lie to me. You're sitting in his kitchen right now wearing a hideously baggy green jumper with your hair a fright. And I know you're all alone in that big house. He's out walking that mangy mutt of his. I made sure of that before calling."

Gasping, she looked up and out the window into the back yard. Not seeing anything, she stood and slowly crossed to the glass. Hearing his chuckle through the phone, she strained her neck trying to see where he was.

"Oh my poor darling. Do you miss me so much you need a glimpse of me?"

"Ruth? What's wrong?"

Turning at Harry's voice, she saw him in the doorway concern on his face as he brushed the moisture from his hair. Ignoring the person on the phone, she flung herself across the kitchen and into his arms, crying out his name. "Harry!"

Harry stood shocked, the feeling of her pressing herself to his chest. Slowly, he wrapped his arms around her, holding her close. Leaning down, he pressed his lips against her ear. "Ruth, what is it?"

Still wrapped in his arms, she mumbled into his chest. "I...it's...Peter."

Pulling back slightly, Harry kept his arms around her. "What do you mean it's Peter?"

Meeting his eyes, she slowly held up her phone.

Frowning, Harry lifted a hand and took the device from her. Lifting it to his ear, he listened.

"Harry is it?"

Gripping the phone in his hand, Harry growled at the voice on the other end. "Peter I would assume."

"Shut up old man and listen. I don't know who you are or what you want but she's mine. You're going to let her go and you're going to step away. Then she's going to walk out her door and come back to me."

Harry held Ruth tighter as he glanced at the back door. Satisfied to see the double locks in place, he slowly started walking them down the hall, his grip on Ruth not loosening. As he neared the front door, he checked that the locks were in place before reaching for the alarm. Quickly ensuring that it was set, he turned his attention back to the phone.

"Ruth will not be going anywhere near you; not now and not in the future. I suggest," he said, his voice going deathly quiet, "that you forget about Ruth and move on. Otherwise I will make your life unbelievably painful - and short."

Snapping the phone closed, he wrapped both arms around Ruth and held her to him. Leaning down, he lightly pressed his lips against her hair. "It'll be alright, I promise."

He felt her tense a moment then nod. Hugging her tightly for a moment, he reluctantly let her go. Taking her hand, he waited until she met his eyes and led her into the living room. Sitting her onto the sofa they'd fallen asleep on the night before, he pushed her into the cushion. Grabbing the throw from where it had landed on the floor, he wrapped it around her shoulders. Running his hand down the side of her face, he watched as she met his eyes and tried to smile. He smiled back, his fingers lingering for a moment before he turned and made his way to the window. Glancing outside, he took in every one that was moving along the street. Pulling the curtains closed, he opened Ruth's phone and dialed a number. As the man on the other end picked up, he looked back at Ruth.

"Adam, we have a problem."

I'm not too sure about this chapter. It sounded right in my head but on paper... Thank you all for the lovely reviews. I'm glad to see people are enjoying this. Please let me know what you think. =0)

The prompt was "write about a guilty pleasure"