Deck Chairs, Moonlight and You

Stephen and Betty sat on the deck chairs on their makeshift veranda. It was a balmy summer night. Stephanie and Katherine were in bed and Betty and Stephen were getting in some much-needed Mummy & Daddy alone time.

"I always wondered something, Stephen," Betty mused, entwining her fingers in his.

"Mmmm?" he swiveled his head in her direction.

"That first night we were ever together, did you intend to make love to me?" she asked, arching an eyebrow.

"No," he said quietly, slowly shaking his head, "The settee was too short for me and my back and shoulders and legs were cramping. I had slept the night before in my car and I was exhausted and miserable."

She smiled understandingly as he continued, running her fingertip along the edge of her tea cup.

"I tried to sleep on the floor, but Tiddles bit my feet and clawed my back."

She tittered, "You don't seem to mind when I claw your back!"

"Cheeky!" he squeezed her hand gently, "So I figured I'd slip in and sleep on my stomach so as not to snore and to keep things at bay, so to speak. I intended to sneak back to the lounge before morning.

The next thing I knew, you had kissed me and I woke up to see you staring at me. Even in the dim light, I could see your eyes. And you had this look that I had never seen. No one had ever looked at me like that before. You didn't look at me with critical eyes or disgust. When I leaned in closer, you didn't back away. I thought I was dreaming. When I kissed you, you didn't pull away. I never felt a kiss like that in my life! It was exquisite. I didn't want to stop. Did you not want me to make love to you?"

Betty's head swam thinking back to that evening. She blinked a few times and smiled, her dimples shining in the moonlight, "I didn't know what to expect. I was so surprised to find you in my bed. You smelled so wonderful and your eyes were soft and you didn't have that stern, uptight look that you usually had back then. I couldn't stop staring. Then you moved toward me; I couldn't believe it. You didn't seem very affectionate at work…"

He ran his fingertips up her arm, tracing little circles on the inside of her elbow. He fingered her shoulder and gently touched her neck. Betty flinched as he tickled her, tilting her head and capturing his hand between her cheek and shoulder.

"I was never allowed to show affection; I was starved for human touch. I had all these feelings inside me and no one to share them with. I would flirt with customers and with Rumbold's secretaries and no one would give me the time of day. You and I were an unlikely pair," he said softly, "And there you were, mere inches from me and touching me. I didn't want to waste a moment," he sighed loudly, "Oh, God, Betty! I love you!"

She reached over and stroked his cheek with her fingertips, "I love you, Stephen!" she whispered, her lips curling up at the corners. He really had come a long way since that first night together. It was as if all that was needed to melt his heart was a little warmth and love.

"Any more questions?" he breathed, taking a sip of his tea.

"Just one more…" her voice raising a little.

"Hmmm?" he murmured, giving her a sideways glance.

"How did you become such an experienced lover? That first night, you were a little awkward and unsure. That whole next day was kind of rough and sloppy, like you weren't sure if you'd ever get it again."

"I was afraid I was never going to get it again!" he admitted, looking down at the candle flickering in the jam jar.

He bristled and did a double-take, his eyes darkening, "I beg your pardon! What do you mean I was 'rough and sloppy'?" he gaped, "I must protest; I've never been sloppy! Why didn't you say something then?" He pouted; his pride had gotten the better of him.

"Well, I was inexperienced, so I had nothing to compare it to. You know, one doesn't like to seem ungrateful about these things. I just chalked it up to your being out of practice, that's all…It doesn't reflect on your current level of performance."

"I had that whole year I was going through the divorce…I read a lot of 'gentlemen's magazines' and learned a few techniques and also what women want- someone to cook for them once in awhile, bring flowers, make up his side of the bed…"

"I'm sorry if I hurt your feelings with my 'rough and sloppy' comment. You are neither rough nor sloppy; you're actually quite good." she said squeezing his hand and smiling lovingly.

He shook his head, grinned widely, his ego sufficiently puffed up, and then looked her straight in the eyes, "You know those romance novels you read?"

"Yes," she drawled, "What about them?"

"Sometimes I take them into the loo and read them! I open the book and flip right to the steamy sex scenes and get ideas!" he announced proudly, as if he'd discovered the Holy Grail., "…and I have a well-loved, dog-eared copy of Lady Chatterley's Lover!"

She couldn't help snickering at his confession, her bright blue eyes dancing. He leaned over and pressed his lips against her cheek.

"I've always loved this birthmark on your cheek," he murmured against her skin, tracing her lips with his fingertip.

She turned to him and he covered her lips with his. She gently cradled his cheek in her hand; his eyes fluttered closed as he deepened his kiss. He ran his fingers through her hair, twirling a curl around his finger.

Pulling back, she huskily breathed in his ear, "Let's go inside, Dear."

Obliging, he stood and proffered his hand to her and led her back to the window to their bedroom, his darkened eyes shining in the moonlight.