Anthony and Ingrid sleep like spoons. It's the most comfortable position, particularly in a sleeping bag. It gives Ingrid a peaceful feeling, Anthony's strong chest against her back, his strong arms around her chest and stomach, his strong legs supporting hers.

But those aren't the body parts that wake her up.

"Mm, morning, Ang—Ingrid."

"Ton—Anthony, you're nudging me."

"Huh?"

"You're, you know."

"Oh, him. Well, he likes your tush. You know that."

"Yes, but what does he want—? I mean—" I'm glad my back is turned to him since I'm blushing.

He moves his head forward and kisses my cheek. "Baby, it's OK. He doesn't want anything in particular. He's just a morning person."

"And a night person."

He laughs. "OK, and an afternoon person. An any-time-you-want-him person."

"Any time?"

"Well, out of our two days a year, yeah."

Do I want him now? What do I want from him? Well, Anthony and I have tried different positions over the years, and even just last night. But there's one that I haven't done since Michael. In a two-person sleeping bag as it happens.

"Anthony?"

"Yes, Ingrid?" His tone is teasing but sweet.

"Well, do you like doggy style?"

I don't have to see his face to know he's grinning. I hear it in his voice on "You kiddin' me?" And I can feel it in on one of the cheeks of my derriere. "Do you like it?"

"It can be fun." I don't say that it was hardly something that Geoffrey, or even Grant, would've been likely to suggest. It takes an earthier sort of man for that, or at least to suggest it to a woman like me.

"Well, in that case—" he puts his hand between my tush and his crotch as if to guide his way in.
"Anthony, you can't just—"

"I'm sorry, Baby! You want some foreplay first?"

"No, I mean you need a condom."

"Oh, right. Let me get one."

"Oh, and wash your hands first."

"Yes, Dear."

I roll my eyes but he can't see it. He scoots out of the sleeping bag, nudging my back and my hair along the way. "Excuse me, sorry." He hops onto the ground. "Oo, that's cold!"

"Well, come back to bed as soon as you can."

"I'd love to, but there's one little problem, Ingrid."

"What's that?"

"This tent doesn't exactly have a bathroom en suite."

"Oh, right." Last night, when I peed before supper, I had to do it in the woods, on a bush. And then I went down to the lake with a bar of soap to wash up.

"Come on, we both need to freshen up. Out of that bag, rise and shine! Let's move it, let's do it!"

"Anthony! It's too cold! And the lake will be even worse, especially this early in the morning."

"Come on, I dare ya!"

In a way, I want to tell him to forget about it, all of it, the bathing in the lake, the condom, the doggy style. But then I think Ingrid would race him down to the lake.

So I hop out of the sleeping bag and unzip the tent before he even has time to react. And I run downhill—nude!—to the lake. It's cold but sunny this morning, with the light dancing on the lake ahead of me.

He catches up with me despite his late start. He grabs me just as I reach the water, so I splash him. He splashes me back. And then we kiss.

It's like an Ingrid & Anthony version of our drunken kiss: naked, crazy, elemental.

And then suddenly it becomes something else. Anthony brought the bar of soap and he caresses me with it, no pun intended, although there's an idea for another ad that's appropriate for Playboy. He gently bathes me, my hands, my breasts, my bottom, and between the legs in particular. I want him so much that I'm aching with it. But when I reach for him, I realize how cold the water is.

"He'll come back." He hands me the soap and I wash his hands, even though they're cleaner just from cleaning me. Then I wash his muscles and his flaccid penis.

We're both shivering, and not just from the cold lake.

"Come on, that's fresh enough." He takes my hand that doesn't have the soap and we run back up the hill. We dive into the tent and I put the soap aside, while he quickly grabs a condom out of the pockets of my shorts. Then we dive into the sleeping bag.

"Warm me up, Ingrid," he says, so I rub my feet against his while he puts the condom on himself. "Yeah, I love your warm toes!"

I try not to smile that this is the closest Anthony and Ingrid have got to an I-love-you.

"Thank you."

"OK, let me warm your back now."

I turn as best I can in this narrow space and we spoon again. Then he kisses my ear and strokes my breasts. "Did you know that you're beautiful?" he whispers.

"It's always nice to hear." No one has truly made me feel beautiful before. Well, maybe it's different for Ingrid than for Angela.

"I love to look at you from every angle. I wish I could look into your eyes right now, watch the smile on your face. I can imagine them, but what I need you to do is to tell me with words, tell me what feels good, what doesn't."

"It all feels good so far."

"You can't see my eyes or my smile either. So I'm going to tell you that it feels good to me, too. Usually when I have doggy style, the woman is on her knees, maybe resting her top half on the bed."

"Oh. Did you want—?"

"No, I want spoony sex right now. I like cuddle-sex with you in this sleeping bag."

"I like it, too. It's just different than when we're facing each other."

"Yeah, I can't do this in that position." He reaches around with his other hand and teases my most sensitive area.

"Mmm, Anthony!"

"That's right, Ingrid. Tell me when you like it."

"I really like it."

"Good. OK, I'm loving playing with your breasts, but I need that hand back. I'm gonna guide myself in, just slow and shallow, OK?"

"OK."

"Don't be nervous, Baby. It's the same thing as before, just from a different direction."

I laugh. "I know."

"It's just me. It's just Anthony. See, here I am again."
"Hello," I say as he penetrates me.

"Hi, Ingrid. Good morning again."

"Good morning, Anthony."

"Let's just pretend we woke up and started making love. You woke up in my arms."
"Mmm."

"And you let me inside you again."

"Yes!"

"I wish we could spend the whole weekend just making love, falling asleep like spoons, and then waking up and making love all over again."

"That would be nice." Very nice.
"But I've planned an afternoon hike."

I laugh, although I'm not sure he's kidding.

After awhile, he cries, "God, Baby, you're hot!"

"Mmm, thank you!"

"Why didn't we do this before?"

"I think I become more Ingrid every year."

"You'll destroy me by the time we hit our fiftieth anniversary."

I laugh and then I pull away and climb out of the bag.

"Ingrid!" he groans. "Where are you going?"

I don't go far, just to the outside of the tent. Then I grin down at him through the almost transparent ceiling.

"Are you gonna stand there and taunt me?"

"No, I'm waiting for you to come get me."

"Oh, in that case." He crawls out of the bag and the tent. I expect him to grab me, carry me down to the lake, and throw me in the water. But instead he grabs me and enters me from behind. I lean against the tent and expect it to collapse, but he's got too tight a hold on me, one hand around my waist, the other on my bottom.

After awhile, I pant, "You're—hot—too—Anth—un—ee!"

After my third consecutive orgasm, he asks, "Ready for that hike?"

"I thought you said it was an afternoon hike."

"Oh, right. Let's go take a nap."

We crawl back into the tent, back into the sleeping bag, and back into each other's arms. I realize we haven't had breakfast and we've already had quite a bit of exercise, but all I want to do now is sleep with Anthony.