"I'm not the sort of person who falls in and quickly out of love
But to you, I give my affection, right from the start.
I have a lover who loves me - how could I break such a heart?
Yet still you get my attention."

Joan Armatrading

She had finished work on the Friday and gone home to pack her back. It took half an hour. She didn't need much, she never did.

Harry picked her up at nine for dinner before she went. He kissed her as she got into the car, lightly on her cheek. She flushed, but not from the kiss. His smile so warm and loving, he pulled off. He switched the station on the radio to some easy quiet music. They sat in silence, they always did. No small talk when he drove, another detail she didn't understand about them.

They pulled up at her favourite restaurant, she turned to him and smiled, she hoped he couldn't tell it was fake. Under normal circumstances she would have been ecstatic, but tonight she was on the verge of tears. She didn't let it show.

He got out of the car while she sat stealing herself for what she was doing to him. What was she doing? A few stolen kisses? A few meals in a downtown restaurant? And now a weekend away, alone, together. It all amounted to nothing really, nothing physical had happened beyond a few kisses. But mentally she had betrayed him at the deepest level, even now it made her sick as she planned to run away for a weekend.

What she expected from the weekend she didn't know. Did she want to fall completely for this man? To get confirmation that her feelings for Harry had completely dissolved? She didn't know what she wanted and that was dangerous. She knew what he wanted though. What did most men want a weekend away with their mistresses for?

She jumped as he opened her door, taking her hand and pulling her up out of the car.

"My lady" He said with a smile as she rose out of the seat.

They walked hand in hand to the doors, he gave his name at the reception and they were lead to her favourite table. He treated her so well, he knew exactly what she wanted, needed, liked. What did this new man know? Nothing.

How she was managing to stay there sat at the table, her hand in his, she didn't know. They made small talk and ordered drink and food. His foot gently sweeping over hers under the table. A look of sheer adoration in his eyes. Did he see hers cooling? Grey and cold, distracted?

Their starters came and went, he poured another glass of wine, white burgundy, and they drank nothing else. It was one of their little traditions after their first date, something she doubted would ever change. With a knowing smile from the waiter and their main courses Harry began to quote a famous philosopher. She couldn't stand it any more. His intellect was her favourite thing, the attribute she loved more than anything. The way he made her feel secure in her own knowledge.

She could feel the tears burning behind her eyes. Feigning a choke on her food, she excused her self, running towards the bathroom. Locking herself in a cubicle she registered the look of concern she had seen on his face when she coughed. Sometimes she wanted to see contempt for her there, she deserved it. He didn't hold it for her though. She didn't know if he was capable of it. She wished he was, she wished he was doing the same to her. Hurting her in this way, letting her be taken in by his lies and deceit. But he wasn't.

She sat shaking, wishing she could stop it, tears burning. She scalded her self for doing this. She wasn't supposed to feel like this. She was the bitch; she wasn't allowed to cry over this. It was her own doing, her own fault. She was being so damn selfish, and she hated herself for it. She composed herself and returned to the table. He asked if she was ok, she replied that she was fine.

They finished the meal and he drove her home. He got out of the car to walk her to the door; he automatically locked it knowing she would invite him in. They entered her house and followed their usual routine, a drink, a kiss, and the retreat upstairs, the slow, intimate love making. Tonight she cried as he came inside her, the tears flowing down her face. He held her close to him, not asking her why. His arms around her, keeping her safe, keeping her warm, reminding her of what she was at risk of losing. He laid her down next to him and whispered "Sleep don't weep" and brushed a tear from her face. She smothered her face into the pillow to still her sobs.