Oh, let me see your beauty when the witnesses are gone

Let me feel you moving like they do in Babylon

Show me slowly what I only know the limits of

Dance me to the end of love

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The afternoon sunlight was filtering through the curtains at his window, but Lucien wasn't sleeping anyway. He still could not quite believe the turn around in his life. A month ago he had been in despair, convinced Jean was about to leave him, but now his future had been transformed.

Since that afternoon in his surgery, Jean had agreed to marry him, and he'd spoken to a lawyer about starting the divorce. But the biggest change had come just a week ago, when Jean had appeared at his bedroom door late in the evening, dressed in only her pyjamas, and with a determined look in her eyes.

As her intentions dawned on him and he pulled her inside the room, there was a moment when she seemed to lose her nerve. Lucien dealt with that by kissing her thoroughly, and when he let her go she grinned and spoke for the first time.

"Do you mind?" she asked quietly.

"Mind?" he replied incredulously. "Why on earth would I mind? But are you sure about this?"

She nodded. "I'm sure. I don't want to wait any longer. I don't want to have any regrets about us."

He didn't need any more encouragement. So had followed a night of exploring and loving, and learning far more about each other. Lucien had been dreaming about this for months, and he was determined Jean would enjoy all of it. Just before they slipped into sleep, Jean confessed she worried about Charlie hearing them, and Lucien just chuckled quietly.

The following day Lucien took her to bed in the afternoon, shocking her slightly at first. It felt rather wanton to Jean, to make love like this; she should be working, surely? But Lucien reasoned with her that Charlie was at work, and he had no patients to see, so why not?

It became their habit very quickly.

So this particular afternoon found Lucien watching Jean sleep, satisfied and weary. He lifted the sheet covering her a little, letting his gaze make its way down her body. He was learning all of her gradually; where she loved him to touch her, and the parts she tried to hide from him.

He longed to run his fingertips over her breasts. He knew now how those curves would feel in his hands and how she would groan softly when he did that. But for now he resisted and lifted the covers a little more, seeking out the silvery lines across her hips, scars that showed she had lived a life before she knew him.

He knew from her shyness about them that the marks left by two babies embarrassed her, but Lucien loved her for them. She was a real, mature woman, and she had chosen him. How could he not love all of her?

He gently replaced the covers and started to turn over, away from Jean, but she spoke without opening her eyes. "My turn now."

He opened his mouth to object, but found himself giving way, as she opened her eyes and kissed his beard.

Feeling far more self conscious than he usually did, Lucien lay back with his eyes closed and waited to be scrutinised. Jean started tracing the pale scars on his shoulders and arms. She knew they covered his back too. The shock she had felt the first time she saw him without a shirt or singlet had passed now; the scars were part of him, and part of what made him the man she loved.

"Do they hurt?" she asked, circling her fingers around the raised scars.

"Not any more," he replied. She continued checking him over, playing with the hairs that curled on his chest, and then suddenly she ran her fingertips up the inside of his leg, with predictable results.

Lucien opened one eye and looked at her, mock-severely. "Jean!" he said, rather alarmed. "What on earth?"

She smiled cheekily at him. "Just checking it's all in working order," she said. Where had this new-style Jean come from, he wondered?

"You will be the last man I ever sleep with. I want to be sure I'm getting a good deal." He put his arm around her, strangely moved by her words.

"Each other's last...maybe that's better than being each other's first," he said thoughtfully. She rested her head on his chest and hummed her agreement against his skin.

They were just considering getting up when they heard the metallic click of a key in the front door lock. It could only be Charlie, home early for once. Jean sat up, alarm and embarrassment on her face. Lucien put his finger to his lips to warn her to be quiet, slid out of bed and swiftly got dressed. He then headed down the hallway to greet Charlie, hoping he wouldn't spot anything amiss.

Charlie wasn't fooled. The curtains in Lucien's room were drawn, there was no sign of Jean, and Lucien had clearly dressed in haste, if his crooked tie and messed up hair were anything to judge by. Charlie was essentially a kind man, but couldn't resist teasing Lucien just a little.

"Been having a nap, Doc?" he asked. "Has Mrs Beazley worn you out?" Lucien was rarely lost for words, but he found when he opened his mouth to reply, nothing came out. In the end he grinned at Charlie and shook his head.

"Not quite yet," he replied eventually, and headed off to his office. Jean meanwhile was dressed, and just waiting for the right moment to come out of Lucien's bedroom.

Armed with a pile of dirty laundry (an excellent housekeeper's disguise, she thought), she strode into the kitchen with a rather false air of confidence. One look at Charlie's face told her all her efforts were wasted and her face fell.

Charlie put his hand on her forearm, the first time he'd done anything so personal. "I'm happy for you both, Jean. And now you might as well move in with him, I won't be telling anyone."

Jean found she was already wondering if her clothes would fit in Lucien's wardrobe. She smiled at Charlie but then rushed away as her cheeks reddened in embarrassment. She would have to get used to that now. He was right, though, and she knew she wouldn't be spending any more nights in her own bedroom from then onwards.