Anne watched Stan and Denise climb the stairs. Stan turned to look at her and she blew him a kiss, smiling at him. They bounded up the stairs out of sight and Anne fell back into her chair.
Watching Stan kiss Denise had been hard, very hard. Anne had thought it out beforehand, considered that Stan and Denise would be kissing and much, much more -- but as she'd told them, actually
seeing
it was something else.
Now they'd be upstairs, undressing. Denise had those wonderful large breasts, things that Anne had lost men to since she was a teenager. Would it happen again? Had she made a dreadful mistake?
For a moment Anne was prepared to get up and rush upstairs, to interrupt, to stop it -- but then she relaxed. Stan loved her. She knew that, knew it with every fibre of her being. 'Don't I?' she thought. 'He loves me. He really does, and the fact that he's with Denise, rutting with her,
fucking
her doesn't change that does it?'
Anne actually felt annoyed with herself. Her thoughts were normally controlled, disciplined. Now they were running away from her.
'I don't really think like that,' she told herself. 'Stan and Denise can
make love
and Stan can still love me.
Will
still love me.
Does
still love me.'
'Doesn't he?'
'This anxiety is quite normal,' she told herself. "Normal. Hah!" she said aloud, and then was quiet, hoping she hadn't been heard upstairs. 'As if they'll be listening out for me!'
"Right," she said aloud, more quietly, "I can deal with this. Like I said, music, wine, book!"
She went to Stan's CD collection and browsed for a minute or two, then realized she was humming a tune. "Romeo and Juliet, huh! Okay, let's find the Dire Straitsβ¦" she said to herself.
It didn't take long, and soon Mark Knopfler's beautiful guitar began to play over Stan's sound system. Anne put it on 'repeat' so she wouldn't have to get up again. She went to Stan's kitchen and found a bottle of Muscadet in the fridge. Approvingly, she opened it and carried it into the living room where she poured herself a large glassful. 'Better watch it, I have work tomorrow and I'm starting to carry a load,' she thought.
She set the glass down on the coffee table and went to Stan's bookshelf. Sure enough, he had 'Friday' too. She grinned to herself -- she and Stan had wide and overlapping tastes, though she'd never quite have the same feel for history that he had, and he'd probably never quite want to read the same science journals that she did.
'Music, wine, book. Now I just need to relax enoughβ¦'
Actually, the wine she'd drunk was more than sufficient to relax her. By the time she'd had that glass of wine and started on another, Anne felt quite floaty. When Mark Knopfler began singing about 'Les Boys do Cabaret' Anne was quite capable of singing softly with him, somewhat off-key and without really noticing. She cried a little as she read of Friday's troubles. By now Anne had stopped thinking about her man and his other love.
That changed when she heard shuffling steps on the staircase. Anne pulled herself out of Heinlein and looked up.
Stan was coming down the stairs in front of Denise. Both had obviously recently showered. Denise looked happy and content, Stan did too but his expression was also concerned as he looked over towards Anne.
Anne smiled. She stood up, swayed a tiny bit and then moved towards them both as they reached the bottom of the stairs.
Stan stood still when he got there, and Denise, coming up beside him, gave him a shove in Anne's direction. "Give her a kiss, you ninny!" she told him and Stan obeyed, taking Anne in his arms.
Anne closed her eyes, feeling him grasp her, smelling the sweet clean smell of his shower gel, then tasting his lips. A very slight taste told her that Stan had forgotten something, and for a moment Anne recoiled a tiny touch. Stan pulled back himself in confusion but Anne recovered, pulling him to her lips, kissing him, tasting
her
.
Several seconds and a century later Anne broke off the kiss and looked at Denise, who was watching with a smile on her face.
"You took good care of our man then, Denise?" she asked rhetorically, and Denise nodded enthusiastically.
"Yes, and he's every bit as wonderful as I'd dreamed," the shorter woman answered, "but you know that, Anne." Denise took Anne's hand and kissed her wrist. "Um. I had to remind Stan about a condom. You two ride bareback?" she asked.
"Oh, God. I'm sorry, Denise, I never thought. Yes, we do -- given our past history, or lack of it, we're safe, but I should have thought and explained -- and so should you, Stan. Little Stan doing the thinking again?"
Stan looked sheepish, and Anne went on, "Given that we're going to be exclusive, we ought to get ourselves tested properly and then we can stop worrying about such things. What do you two think?"
"That's a good idea!" Denise confirmed.
Stan nodded as well, thoughtfully. "I really disliked those things back when Caron and I were engaged, which is why she went on The Pill back then. They've not really improved much, either. I'm really sorry, Denise, you shouldn't have had to think of that just then." Suddenly Stan looked stricken. He looked at Anne and stammered, "I-I-er-sorry, I didn't mean to sayβ¦"
"Stan, I
know
what you were doing, you
can
talk about it you know!" Anne told him with exasperation in her voice. "Not very long ago we were saying we had to talk about things. Well, sex and condoms and such is exactly one of those things we have to talk about!"
Anne sat down in the chair again, heavily. "Now, what are we doing about sleeping?"
Stan looked at Denise, who calmly looked back.
"Don't look at me, Stan. What's today?"
"Wednesday," he replied.
"Who do you want to sleep with, then? No, I take that back. It's unfair. Anne, I've had my fun tonight, and I don't want to hog things. We'll talk about exactly who does what tomorrow, but for now, you two go to bed. I'll sleep down here."
"Nonsense!" said Stan. "The spare room's
there
, Denise, for tonight you can kip in there and we'll sort out everything else in the morning."
- - - - - - - - - -
So it was arranged. Anne led Denise upstairs while Stan switched things off, put a vacuum stopper in the wine and generally looked after things downstairs.
"You seem to have got a better handle on this than I have," Anne told Denise quietly as they made up Stan's spare bed.
"What makes you think that? It's still odd, Anne. With Elaine and Susan I'd just crash in the same bed, or if it was just a pair of us there'd be no problem.
This
isn't the same."
Anne considered. "No, it isn't is it? Well, how are you holding up?"
"I'm fine, really, Anne. I'm incredibly grateful, too. This has to be the most generous thing -- well, other than Laney and Susan, and
they
both fancied me, so I guess
there
was an ulterior motive!"
Anne laughed. "I guess so!"