Emmet plowed forward, hair plastered to his head in sweaty strands, heart thrumming wildly, hands grasping Hyacinth's shoulders from underneath. Hyacinth's mouth formed an o, her fingers dug into Emmet's back, her large, full breasts rolled lazily to her sides. She constricted around him, driving him wild.

Then all at once and without warning they exploded simultaneously, taking both of them by surprise. Emmet's eyes went wide in delight; Hyacinth squeezed hers shut.

"Splendid!" he exclaimed, burying his face in her bosom and kissing her damp chest.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, embarrassed.

"No need to apologize! We came off at the same time," he exhaled sharply. He hadn't had that happen in a long time; he could count on one hand how many of those he had experienced with Jeanne.

Emmet fell back on the pillows, sweating, gasping for breath. He rolled onto his side, looking at Hyacinth one-eyed, smiling dreamily.

"Why are you looking at me like that, Emmet?" she questioned, feeling somewhat self-conscious.

"This is the way a man looks at a woman after they've made love," he said smiling, his eyes half-closed.

"Is it appropriate for a man to look at a woman like that?" she pulled back.

He gathered her into his arms and slowly kissed her neck, shoulder and décolletage, breathing her in deeply, "Yes, it is appropriate for a man to look at a woman like this, especially after making love."

She lay stiffly, "Richard never looks at me like that. Especially after making love," she added quietly.

"I'm not Richard," he sighed, all too aware that he was violating Richard's trust and friendship. A pang of guilt hit him in the stomach, and then subsided. He was becoming comfortable with this situation.

"The Major never looks at me like that," she added.

"The Major is a lout and a clod," Emmet sniped. He despised the Major.

"Emmet!" Hyacinth scolded, "Don't be rude. I find envy to be a very lower-class emotion." She rolled her eyes.

Emmet chuckled to himself and continued his ministrations. Hyacinth looked round the room nervously.

"Emmet, we've got to get up. Now!" she said impatiently.

He traced a finger along her shoulder and collarbone, "What's the rush?"

"I've got to change the sheets and get things straightened up," she tried to wrangle out of his embrace, but he held fast.

"Hyacinth, you said it yourself that you could get this room ship-shape in ten minutes. Calm down," he said and pressed a warm open-mouthed kiss in the crook of her neck, sending a delightful shiver down her back. He was a gentle lover, not at all like the short-fused Major or the gruff and dirty Commodore. She was not used to lying in another's arms and cuddling. She wasn't sure how she felt about this level of intimacy.

"Emmet," she stammered, "I-I-I-I-I'm not sure how I feel about this," she tried to extricate herself from his arms, but he was too strong.

"You were pretty sure a few minutes ago," he reminded her and smiled, arching an eyebrow.

"I really need to get to work," she said, her blue eyes pleading.

"Hyacinth, stop it! Stop. Just calm down," he said firmly, his dark eyes narrowed, "Richard won't be home for another three hours. I don't want to just do it and be kicked out afterwards."

"I can get the room fixed up and go downstairs and put on some coffee," she smiled nervously.

Emmet ignored her comment. He pulled her back into his embrace, "Now…where were we?"

She wriggled uncomfortably, "I was going to tidy up the room."

"No. You are not," he said resolutely. He could see she was not used to languishing in the afterglow. He would have to work on that slowly.

He slowly ran his hand up and down her thigh and over her hips, reveling in the smoothness of her skin. Although no longer taut and nubile, her body was very much feminine and alluring. He buried his face in her bosom as her hands cradled his head. He kissed her passionately as he pressed urgently against her belly.

"What?" she looked at him incredulously, "Again?"

"I'm afraid so," he said sheepishly. His eyes were dark and intense. He rolled her under him.

Round two and Hyacinth was really antsy to get cleaned up and put the room to right. Emmet shook his head and sighed. Hyacinth leapt out of bed and began to gather the comforter and sheets. She shook the pillows from their cases and added them to the pile. Emmet snatched up his clothing and began dressing. He felt like a teenager, but not in a carefree sort of way. No, he felt like a teenager who was afraid of getting caught at his girlfriend's house after curfew.

"I'm leaving, Hyacinth," Emmet announced.

"Yes, dear," she said matter-of-factly, pulling fresh sheets onto the bare mattress.

He watched as she bustled around the room, dressed only in a pair of panties. He marveled at how her bum looked like two footballs wrestling inside a duffel bag. He paused and stared a moment, smiling.

"Do you need help?" he offered.

"Oh, no!" she scoffed, "I can manage! That's what sets me apart from other women is my ability to keep an impeccable home."

He shook his head, laughing to himself, and quickly dressed. He gave her a quick peck on the mouth and headed downstairs and out the kitchen door.

Richard entered the bedroom to hang his suit jacket and change into his house shoes and a cardigan. He noticed the comforter, sheets and pillow shams were different from the ones that had been on the bed when he had left for work earlier in the day. His mouth formed a straight line and he clenched his fists exasperatedly.

"Damn!" he closed his eyes and shook his head slowly. He knew what his wife was about, but every time he was faced with the evidence of her dalliances, it pained him. He pretended to be all right with this arrangement; he'd had over twenty-five years to grow a thick skin and be accustomed to her activities, but she was his wife. He was also concerned about whether or not she and her paramours were using protection. He wasn't worried about pregnancy, she was well past childbearing years. He was more bothered by the possibility of STDs. He would discuss it with her after dinner. Over tea.

xXx

"Hyacinth, there's something I wish to discuss with you which I feel is rather important," Richard said, his jaw set.

She stirred her tea, oblivious to him.

"Hyacinth!" he snapped, "I need to discuss something with you!"

"Oh, that's nice, dear," she said faintly.

"Hyacinth, are you ever listening?" he steamed.

"Yes, dear. What is it?" she stirred her tea and took a sip.

He chose his words carefully, "I see you've been entertaining one of your gentleman friends again..." He reached for a biscuit and set it on the edge of his saucer.

She gave him a look, her face twisting and contorting. She didn't like it when he referred to one of her lovers as her 'gentleman friend'. That was what Hyacinth referred to Rose's illicit sexual encounters as. Hyacinth considered her own lovers to be of the highest socio-economic calibre, of the highest breeding, practically aristocracy.

"Richard!" she winced, "Please refrain from labeling my paramours in that demeaning term. It sounds so lower-middle class. Me sister Rose has 'gentleman friends'. I do not have gentlemen friends."

"Then what would you have me call them?" he cringed at the plurality of the term.

"Oh, I don't know," she smiled and hugged herself, "I'd like to think of them as 'companions' or 'therapists'. Lots of people have therapists nowadays. It's very en vogue." She swept her hand in the air nonchalantly.

He laughed at the absurdity of it, "All right. I see you've had a therapy session today."

"...it was lovely," she reminisced.

"I don't want to hear about it," he said looking round the kitchen. He tried to contain his emotions.

"I think we're making progress; I feel as though I'm getting better, on the verge of a breakthrough..."

"Hyacinth! I don't want to hear about it!" he exploded, apoplectic, his voice climbing several octaves, and his face flushing crimson.

"I'm worried about you having sex with strange men and not using protection!" His face was beet red and his eyes bugged. Hyacinth had never seen him so agitated before. It frightened her and she sat gaping, her cup of tea in mid-sip. She was speechless for a second and then regrouped, regaining her composure.

She smiled widely, nodding, "Of course, dear! But you needn't worry. That alarm system you had installed for our anniversary will alert me to the slightest intrusion. If our home is breached or penetrated, the constable shall be along post-haste!"

Richard clenched his fists, shaking with anger, "I can't believe it! How does she manage to not listen; I never could!" He noisily gulped a mouthful of tea.

She wrinkled her nose in disgust, "Oh, Richard! I do hope you're not going to start making sewer noises at the table! If there's one thing I cannot endure, it's sewer noises at tea."

"Here!" he said, handing her a small brown paper sack, "I picked up some prophylactics for you."

She dumped the bag, emptying the contents onto the table; a small box fell out.

"They have the Royal Warrant on the box," he said, "I know how important having items By Appointment is to you."

She cupped his face in her hands and lightly kissed his lips, "Oh, Richard, you do care about me!"

She scrutinized the box, "Colours!" she squealed.

He smiled tightly, "I thought you might like some variety."

"I bet those Barker-Finches never had colour-coordinated French letters with the Royal Warrant on the package!"

The phone rang, jolting Hyacinth and Richard from their quiet tea time. Hyacinth sprang out of her seat and rushed to answer it. It might be someone important!

"The Bouquet residence, lady of the house speaking!" she trilled.

"Sherrrrridaaaaan!" she greeted happily, "So kind of you to ring your Mummy!" She twirled the phone cord round her fingers.

Richard popped his head into the foyer, "No more money this month!" he mouthed.

She frowned, "What makes you think he wants money?" she said, covering the receiver with her hand.

"That's all he ever calls for!" Richard murmured through gritted teeth.

"You'll never guess what your father has bought me!" she bubbled, still holding the package.

Richard rolled his eyes and returned to the kitchen.

"He bought me a box of coloured balloons with the Royal Warrant on the packaging!" she smiled.

"What's that, dear?" she said to her son, "You and Tarquin also have the Royal Warrant on your package? We have a special bond, you and I. It's almost psychic! But you don't call them balloons? Then what do you call them, dear?"

Pause.

"Raincoats. I see. What do you and Tarquin use raincoats for?"

Pause.

"It's private? Sheridan, you and I have no secrets! Please tell me that you and Tarquin aren't getting mixed up with any loose and immoral girls while away at university? Hmm?"

Another pause.

"Well, that's good, dear. That's Mummy's little man! One must stay focused on his studies!"

She dusted a tchotchke on the shelf above her white slim-line telephone, "You need how much, dear?"

Richard cringed, "He's not getting any more money this month!" he yelled through clenched teeth from the kitchen.

"What do you need eighty pounds for?" she asked.

Pause.

"Oh, I see. Yes, it would be impossible for you an Tarquin to take a walking tour of Greece without any money."

Richard groaned loudly as she hung up.