Every time I thought I was regainingsome semblance of self control, she would imperceptibly shift in mylap, or push a breast a little more firmly against me, immediatelysending a fresh surge of blood downwards, reducing me once more toincoherence.Ostensibly, she was talking about her upcoming course at our nearbyUniversity; modules of the newly formed Law and Gender Studies faculty.My wife struggled to take in her descriptions of matriarchal law;alternative relationships and societal rebalancing; political and legalstructures to enable and encourage alternative relationships; usingsocial media to undermine the patriarchy; the use of role reversal increating a new male iconography and other such rubbish. "That's nice,dear" said my wife, clearly meaning the opposite (my wife was verystraight laced).Every now and then Rosie would include me in the conversation by makingdouble entendres and piling on my discomfort. "Is it hard, Nunka?" shesmirked, when at one point I confessed to not. His face broke out in a huge smile, and he looked her over."Wow... " he admired."Wow yourself."He reached for her, kissing her gently. "Come in ma cherie!" he cooed.She came into the dim house, dropping her bag and removing her new jacket."You didn't eat dinner did you?" he asked."No, of course not." Good. I've cooked you a feast!"She followed him, and he spun around suddenly in the kitchen, taking her into his arms. "I love you," he whispered, kissing her."I love you too," she whispered, nearly crying in joy. He was so perfect."Hungry?" he asked, grinning at her."Yeah."Taking her hand, he brought her to the dining room, which looked out of a bay window. The view was spectacular, you could see for miles around. He'd removed several leaves from the table so it was round, and small. Candles lit it.She was totally impressed, and told him so. He'd gone all out. He was a good cook too. She tried to eat as much as she could, with out stuffing herself. She nearly cried when he brought out.
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