My wife Ann is thirty-nine tomorrow. Tonight I am enjoying watching my, ever blossoming, 'English Rose' seated, almost naked, at her dressing-table brushing her hair. Three years ago, almost to the day, we invited our long-term, close friend Arik to join us in bed for the first time.
Until that night we had never really discussed the subject. I had often suggested that she might enjoy a long, romantic evening in bed with myself and someone else at the same time. Unfortunately Ann never seemed to take me seriously. "You're just being naughty." She would tell me.
Throughout the years that Ann and I had been together, Arik had been our close friend. Though he obviously adored her, their relationship hadn't changed.
Arik, though a talented, fine looking man with a nice nature, and remaining a true romantic, never seemed to find the right girl. Consequently, as the three of us shared the same interests, we seemed always to be together enjoying every minute of each other's company.
When our happy trio was invited to parties or were just out for an evening together, Ann and Arik would gently flirt with each other, though 'flirt' is too strong a word to use, as both of them giggled at every phrase and gesture. At the end of most evenings out, when Arik was either walking us home or to the car, Ann would walk, 'arm in arm', between us, every so often, depending on how many 'G and T's' had 'flowed', giving each of us a 'quick peck' on the lips.
On the Saturday night in question, all three of us were sprawled on our favourite sofa in our sitting-room, enjoying a bottle of 'Pomerol' whilst relaxing after a busy week and a dreary house-party at a mutual friend's house the previous night. Just after ten Arik had announced that he ought be heading home. Of course, he'd slipped into his usual defensive, mildly humourous, mode and informed Ann "I really hate to tear myself away from you, darling." Adding "But I need a pee."
